#anyway. do i have time for this? or anyone else who would host it with me? probably not

[j-esbian]

in one of those moods where i’m like. damn i want to start a podcast 😔

[the-blorb-system]

Omg boo- we have a boo as well. I mean that's just one of her three names but it's the most commonly used one.

I would say more about her but I'm afraid of snitchers who'd tattletale me to a gatekeeper.

Oh yeah the imaginary stories. I as a 4 year old heard a story about the lion who wanted strawberries, and then proceeded to apparently babble for 90 minutes about god know who because no one understood a word I said.

..guess who doesn't like strawberries anymore

- Digi

Oooooof

I usually don't like strawberries. Or most fruit, actually, until I tried organic and realized it's because most produce just tastes like chemicals to me. (Autism moment, L)

I don't remember much of anything from being a kid (but I have a handful of pinpoint memories), so I couldn't say whether those home teachers were getting a real story or not XD

I'm also pretty lucky that most of my headmates seem to have decided that what I share on this blog is okay. It's risky, and we acknowledge it, but we've debated making the blog for months, and doing so was a very distinct decision. Hopefully we get to do more with it!

-Lizzy

[simplyholl]

The Newlywed Game

Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.

He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.

When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”

“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.

When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.

Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”

“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”

You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”

Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.

Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”

You take a deep breath. This is hell. But you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.

You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.

Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.

You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.

The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.

The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.

“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.

Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.

But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.

He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.

Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.

You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.

The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.

Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.

Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.

That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.

You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.

Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.

That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.

You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.

“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”

“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.

“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”

“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.

Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: gn reader but afab with descriptions of feminine clothing (also katsuki calls you princess like once or twice idk), alcohol consumption, everyone is 24+, shouto is bisexual asf, katsuki and reader are married, reader did not go pro, some mlm action (todobaku content scattered throughout bc i am a god and can make them do whatever i want!!), shouto cucks a little bit, also shouto is a nasty closet perv lol, overstimulation, inappropriate quirk usage, oral (reader receiving), spit roasting, backshots, idk what else i could possibly mention other than this is nothing but filth GENRE: SMUTTTT MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+ ONLY SUMMARY: after a party celebrating their top spot as heroes, shoto gets a little too drunk and has to stay the night with you and your husband, dynamight. shenanigans ensue. a new boyfriend is acquired? WORD COUNT: one million billion (jk it’s 10.4K) 🦊’s A/N: god help me. shoutout XENOVA for the celebration party idea. uhm pt2 maybe if this blows up idk. also this was not proofread bc i’m running out of time and it’s too long. and uhm its not exactly manga-canon bc i think deku deserves to be the no.1 hero idgaf. horikoshi when i catch you. // anyway enjoy lol

     it was mina’s idea to hold the party originally, and you who offered to host, since you were the one dating the number two pro hero, dynamight, and had enough space to accompany the old class 1-A. it took a little persuasion from your end to get katsuki on board, but he eventually agreed, despite his bitching about how you two needed to whip this place into shape before anyone dared to set foot into your shared home. 

     this, of course, meant more work for you in the end since your husband was so terribly busy with work. ….that’s not to say he wasn’t helpful, though; of course not! whenever he wasn’t bone tired from whatever villain attack or whatever there was that day, he was more than happy to help you pick up (well…… that’s how the phrase goes, at least; bakugou himself didn’t mind cleaning with you and helping out around the house, per se, it’s just that he always came off as aggressive in the everything that he did) and really start getting the house ready for the upcoming party this weekend. 

     when it was all said and done, everything had been dusted and all the floors swept and vacuumed; the pillows on the living room couch had been fluffed and the kitchen counters were wiped down and had been bleached in preparation for the day you were about to spend in the kitchen cooking for this party. at least katsuki was there to help you with this the most out of all the other chores — and it was really the most time consuming one, too, so his help here was greater than he realized. him being an actually good cook just so happened to be an extra, heaven-sent bonus. 

     despite this, you had actually gone out of your way to prepare three main courses: (cold) soba, katsudon, and then something on the spicier side for your husband for the top three heroes you were celebrating tonight, along with some appetizers and snacks, of course.

     finally, the day of the party was upon you, and you finished running your last couple of errands (namely stocking up on alcohol) right as ashido and the rest of the girls arrived in a limo. …..guess yaomomo went all out, huh? well, it's not like you could exactly blame her—it had been years since you had All been together due to everyone being busy with their own work, even now there were a few who couldn't make it, like satou and koji, or mezou and fumikage, due to circumstances out of their control. it was a shame really, you would have loved to have some of rikido’s sweets since he was such a good baker. ah, must not have been meant to be then. no use in dwelling on it. especially when everyone was beginning to pull up!

     “eeee, my pookie! how have you been!? how’s life with baku—no, dynamight?!” mina eagerly squeals as she runs towards you, arms extended and ready to grip you in a crushing hug. 

     “ackgh–! too tight, too tight–!” you choke out as she squeezes you half to death. 

     “oh, sorry!” she apologizes, letting go and backing up slightly as the rest of the old 1-A girls come up behind her and the limo driver drives back to yaoyorozu’s manor until it was time to come pick the ladies back up. “now. spill all the tea,” she says, giving you a serious look all of a sudden, and you feel a smile stretch across your face. it’s nice to know she’s just the same as she was in high school.

     “well—why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” you gesture to your shared home, to which the girls gawked at in awe. it wasn’t an estate or anything like yaomomo’s place of residence, but it was certainly large enough to accompany everyone attending and then some.

     leading them inside, you open the already unlocked door (katsuki was busy in the kitchen aggressively finishing up the fruit platters and charcuterie boards, making sure they were up to his standards before serving them) and led them all in.

     “kats, ‘m home! n’ all the girls are here!” you shout loud enough from him to hear you from the foyer. 

     your husband swears and grumbles under his breath, eyes darting to look at the clock just as it struck 17:00 (that’s 5pm for those of you who don’t use the 24hr format). goddammit, they were perfectly on time. whatever, he was done arranging the meats and cheeses of the charcuteries anyway. 

     moving to set the trays on the coffee table in the living room for everyone to enjoy, he greets you at the door with the softest little smile ever, one mina just barely catches sight off, which she immediately teases him for and his usual scowl makes a re-appearance in record time as he becomes prickly and sharp again, huffing out a gruff make yourselves at home or whatever. 

     after that, it was another twenty-ish minutes before nearly everyone else arrived. 

     shouto, however, was the last to get there due to him getting into an argument with his father prior to leaving. it was a surprise to even himself that he decided to come anyway, but he had grown to be more sociable than he was back in high school, and also he was one of the three people the party was actually being thrown for, so…. it would just be incomplete without him there, and he recognized that. 

     soon, the party kicked into full swing and the alcohol was excitedly opened and everyone could feel themselves relaxing as it grew closer to dinnertime—which you happily (and tipsily) served to everyone around half past seven. 

     once everyone had eaten and had time to let their food settle, people began saying their goodbyes as the night grew later and later. all except shouto, that was, who was actively still drinking, sitting on your couch with a bottle of sake in his left hand as he watches everyone else clears out. 

     “fuck’s he doin’? just sittin’ there,” bakugou grumbles, coming up to stand next to you after seeing eijirou and denki to the door (uptight as he could be, even your husband was capable of relaxing after a drink or two…. or several). he wasn’t… erm, upset with shouto’s prolonged visit, per se, but he was definitely tired and wanted some alone time with his spouse for fuck’s sake. 

     “be nice, ‘tsuki,” you scold him lightly, moving to walk towards shouto, who had a sleepy look in his eyes, to stand in front of him. “hey, todo, y’okay?” you ask, waving a hand in front of his tired face.

     “mmh? ‘m fine.” his words slur together slightly as he refocuses his blurry gaze on you, and for a moment, the number 3 pro hero thinks you look like an angel sent from heaven to take care of him—until katsuki ruins the moment by walking over and saying;

     “great, then you can obviously get yourself home!”

     “katsuki!” you hiss, looking over to where he stood next to you. “you can stay the night if you need to, shouto,” you tell him softly, squatting down in front of him and placing a hand on each knee to look up at him from almost between his legs — something your husband absolutely did not appreciate. 

     “hey—” he tries to interject, but the young todoroki had already accepted your kind offer, knowing better than to walk or drive home in his current state. 

     “relax, kats, he can sleep on the couch if you don’t want him in a guest bedroom—even though that’s what they’re for,” you suggest/remind him. 

     “i guess,” he huffs, crossing his arms as you finally stand back up.

     shouto, meanwhile, moves to stand up from where he sat, swaying a bit before you put both hands on his broad shoulders and force him to sit back down.

     “nuh-uh, you sit right there, sir,” you say playfully. “is there something you need?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as katsuki grits his teeth while you tend to that drunk icyhot cunt. (as if he himself wasn’t also wasted).

     shouto pauses to think for a moment, thinking about his words carefully before opening his mouth. 

     “do you have any—” he lags and forgets the word he’s looking for mid-sentence. “uhm. ….unfrozen ice?” he asks, tilting his head partially to the side like a confused creature might. 

     “oh my god,” bakugou groans at his request as you break out into a fit of giggles. “you fucking mean water?” he asks his fellow pro-hero. god. what a sorry fuckin’ sight he was — can’t-stand-up-drunk on katsuki’s couch, while he forgot a word as basic as water. jesus christ, he cannot believe you offered to let this fool stay here without even asking him if it was okay first. whatever. he’d just have to fuck you so good that that walking peppermint couldn’t sleep at all. yeah, he could totally do that.

     “water, yes,” shouto follows up as you have to wipe the tears from your eyes at his drunken words. standing up straight, having doubled over from laughter, you nod and tell him yeah, we have unfrozen ice, and that you’ll get him some.

     after you had left the room, though, katsuki huffs loudly and stares down at shouto, who was still seated on the plush sofa. 

     “listen, todoroki,” he spits out, one hand splaying out in an aggressive manner as his quirk popped off quietly. despite the alcohol in his system, katsuki was still just as…. well, just as aggressive and competitive as always despite the way he had grown more outwardly affectionate (towards you specifically) over the course of the evening.

     “i dunno, or care, what you’re trying but just know—” an embarrassing hic cuts him off and his face flushes from more than just the alcohol. suddenly, his big tough guy act drops as his blush reaches the tips of his ears and you come back into the room with two cups of water, handing one off to shouto and the other to your husband.

     both men silently and gratefully take the glasses from you, gulping it down before they even realized just how thirsty they were until the cups were empty and they were looking at you, causing you to suddenly feel small under their intense gazes.

     “‘ll go—get s’more,” you slur, taking the now empty glasses back from the two men, and also this moment alone to calm your racing heart, and maybe pour yourself another shot. or two. or three. calm down, you’re only alone with the two finest men in the world — one of which you’re married to!! you think to yourself as you begin pouring them another glass from the nice water pitcher you had specifically set out for tonight. 

     taking the bottle of vodka from its spot on the counter, you look at how much is left and simply decide on drinking straight from the bottle and polishing it off. little did you know, you’d need that liquid courage for later on tonight. before bringing the two well-built men their water, you dispose of the vodka bottle, putting it in the recycling and heading back into the living room.

     after a comment from katsuki about how it was getting late, you escort shouto upstairs to a guest bedroom and show him where the bathroom is before excusing yourself to your shared bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind you, just for katsuki to barge in seconds later as you move to the master bathroom to start brushing your teeth.

     he joins you shortly after, having discarded his nicer dress shirt and pants in the bedroom’s laundry basket, leaving him far more comfortable in his unfairly flattering black boxer briefs.

     “jesus—kats, how are you so fuckin’ fine?” you ask after spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, and he only chuckles and lets a small smile stretch across his lips.

     “dunno—could ask you the same thing, though,” he quips back, grabbing his own toothbrush from the little cup it sat in, running it under the water before putting the toothpaste on it and bringing it up to his already white teeth and scrubbing the night’s grime away.

     you giggle at his words, running your toothbrush under the water and giving your teeth a final once over with the brush and scrape your tongue, rinsing it one final time, and then tapping it against the sink’s edge to get some of the excess water out. 

     finally, you made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as you watch your husband finish up in the bathroom before he stalks over to you, an almost predatory look in his eye as he comes to tower over you and you can feel a chill run down your spine as he sizes you up from your spot on the king sized bed. 

     “katsuki..? what’re you—”

     your question is almost immediately cut off as his slightly chapped lips come crashing down against yours as he knocks you back onto the bed and stands between your now spread legs—which quickly wrap around his narrow waist as his large and calloused hands find purchase on your hips. 

     “mmmfgh,” your hum turns into a moan as you focus on the feeling of your husband’s lips against yours, melting into him as he leans over you, teeth clacking slightly as he tilts his head for a better angle to kiss you at.

     “was getting tired of that icyhot bastard,” he grumbles, eyebrows furrowing together as the grip on your hips tighten possessively at the mention of shouto, as if your husband wasn’t the one to bring him up? 

     his words make you chuckle nonetheless as a smile spreads over your pretty, soon to be kiss-swollen, lips as you lean back on your palms, the bed sinking beneath your weight.

     “‘m sorry, tsuki,” you mumble softly before you feel his tongue run over your lower lip, silently begging for entrance to your hot mouth — to which you eagerly granted access to, moaning quietly when he licks into your mouth. he tastes like tequila and spicy udon, and it’s utterly intoxicating (or maybe that was the last of the vodka you’d downed earlier taking effect). “didn’ mean t’invite him withou’ askin’ you,” you slur out, rolling your hips up against his growing erection.

     “‘s okay, i guess,” he pants, pulling away only slightly in order to look you in the eyes, letting you know that he really didn’t mind. sure, shouto was quiet and didn’t actually interfere with what he had planned tonight (or so he thought), so he was only mildly annoyed instead of genuinely bothered. besides….. he had left the door partially open after barging into the bedroom on purpose… just in case that walking candy cane happened to overhear and wanted a peak at the show he wouldn’t be allowed to join.

     and just like that, your husband’s lips come crashing down against yours yet again, tongue easily seeking out your own and swirling around yours before sucking it into his mouth, humming pleasantly around the wet muscle (he was in a shockingly good mood, actually…. guess he enjoyed the party more than he let on—that and the alcohol was a large factor, too) before pulling off of it with a nasty, wet pop! noise. 

     “mmh, glad you’re not mad,” you mutter, eyes fluttering open to take a peek at him. and what you saw was downright angelic — a harsh contrast from his usual demeanor and appearance.

     “why would i be?” he asks, and you straight up laugh, ruining the moment entirely. “hey–!”

     “sorry, ‘m sorry—it’s just—” you wipe a tear from your eye. “you’re usually not so— what’s the word? calm? something like that,” you try explaining to him, a smile gracing your features.

     “i’m calm! i’m always calm!” he spits out, raising his voice, sending you into another round of laughter. 

     “god—i love ya s’much, kats,” you tell him after composing yourself, shifting on the bed so you were leaning against the plush pillows lining the headboard and bakugou eagerly follows after you, moving between your legs, which easily wrapped back around his hips, pulling him closer against you, and he shifted so that he was propping himself up on a forearm, his other hand coming to press against the small of your back, arching it for you as his lips found their way to your neck, where he began to nip at the sensitive skin there.

      “you’re pretty great too, i s'pose,” he grins against your flesh before beginning to suck at the junction of your neck and shoulder, determined to leave a mark dark enough to last a week, at least. 

     “yeah? ‘s good t’hear,” you giggle breathily as he assaults your neck, and one hand comes to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his mysteriously spiky hair (you’ve never once seen him use hair gel—hell, you’ve even searched his entire side of the bathroom because you didn’t believe him when he told you it’s just like that).

     it doesn’t take long for bakugou to get fed up with the clothes separating your bare skin from his, desperate to physically feel you against him, and in record time, he has the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips, you’re sitting up slightly, and he’s tugging the fabric the rest of the way off, carelessly throwing it onto the floor.

     shouto, meanwhile, lay awake staring at the ceiling in your comfortable guest’s bed, drunkenly reminiscing back to high school, and the crush he didn’t know was a crush he had on you. had he known, he probably would have asked you out sometime in your senior year—instead, he misinterpreted his affections as an intimate friendship with admiration for you and your quirk. what always baffled him, though, is why you would pick katsuki bakugou to love out of all people (not like you really had a choice in the matter…… one day you woke up and realized your supposed hatred for him was, in fact, a bone-deep love that consumed you whole).

     with an achy sigh, todoroki sits up and gets up to use the bathroom. after washing his hands and splashing his face with some cool water to sober up at least a little, his ears perk up on the way back to his temporary room. on his way back, however, he happened to catch the faintest echo of a feminine moan, and before he can stop himself, he’s silently stalking down the hall to the master bedroom, where he found the door to be cracked open wide enough for him to get a surprising view of dynamight with his head between your legs and your underwear and dress strewn across the otherwise neat floor.

     immediately, his dick twitches to life in his nice dress pants and he nearly groans at the way you moan katsuki’s name so sweetly. god…. that should be me, he thinks to himself enviously as your husband focuses solely on eating you out.

     “aa-ahh! mmm, katsuki!” you cry out, both hands coming down in attempt to push his face away from your messy cunt, but to no avail. katsuki offered you no respite as his hot tongue explored your puffy folds as he began to suck on your clit. “katsu—fuck!”

     you’re ignorant to the feeling of another pair of eyes on you, too caught up in the feeling of being eaten out, but katsuki isn’t — he feels shouto’s burning gaze, and he can’t help but smirk to himself. so he was right: icyhot couldn’t resist a good show, and boy, was katsuki about to perform.

     “hmm?” he hums, one hand resting on your thigh while he uses the forearm of his other arm to keep you from bucking your hips up. he doesn’t exactly care about what it is you’re whining about; he knows you’re fine and he intends to make you cum at least thrice tonight to show off to shouto, who was apparently a giant closeted pervert.

     and it was true. shouto was nasty without even realizing it — and that’s not to say he slept around, god no (he was 24 and still a virgin….), he just had fantasies. many of which involved you, and shamefully, on occasion, you and katsuki. it made his cheeks burn to even think about, but he would be a liar if he said he’d never gotten off to the idea of a threesome with you and your husband. jesus, and now, here the opportunity was laid right there in front of him, and what was he doing? slowly starting to palm at his erection and bite his bottom lip as he watches the scene in front of him unfold.

     “i— shit–!” you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back as you tug at his hair. “god, just—! slow down!” you whine, and katsuki’s eye twitches. 

     like in every other aspect in his life, bakugou tended to be rough and aggressive in the bedroom; put simply, you turned him into a feral man—brought out the inner animal in him. he was, as surprising as it may seem to some, a generous lover, however, due to his have to be the best at everything mentality, so, by extension, this included his ability to give and inflict pleasure (mixed with a healthy amount of pain, because, well.. it’s katsuki). 

     “nah.” blatantly ignoring your request, he pulls his head away from your drooling pussy, the lower half of his face covered in your slick, and blows a cold puff of air against your throbbing slit, causing you to whine out his name as he nips at the fatty skin of your inner thigh—dangerously close to your cunt—sucking and biting until a dark purple mark begins to form. a smirk stretches over his somewhat thin, although plump, lips knowing shouto would never get to litter your body in bruises and hickeys the same way he does. 

     “mmh—jesus, kats–!” it’s all you can do to whimper as he resumes the disgustingly messy way he was tongue fucking your pussy.

     shouto almost groans as he gets harder and harder, almost painfully so, as he watches katsuki fervently eat you out, and suddenly, he wishes it was him between your legs with bakugou watching instead. 

     as silently as he possibly can, todoroki begins to unbuckle his belt in order to slip a hand past the waistband of both his pants to feel himself through the fabric of his sickeningly tight boxers. he’s careful to bite back what would be any whimpers or quiet moans, knowing it’s so shotover for him if he gets caught.

     “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he watches as you’re eaten out until you’re cumming with a loud cry of your husband’s name (shouto pretended it was his name you were calling out), and he goes to turn around to hide in the bedroom you’d so kindly allowed him to stay in to jerk off until he hears—

     “y’gonna come out, icyhot, or are ya just gonna stand there like a loser cuck all night?” katsuki lifts his head from between your legs to look at the half-and-half bastard peeping on him and his spouse…… what a fucking freak.

     “sh–shouto!?” you squeak, not having noticed his presence until the man you’d married had pointed him out. “wh–what’re you—!” you can’t even think of what to say before he’s trying to apologize and katsuki’s cussing him out—telling him to get his ass in here before he really makes him sorry. 

     just how drunk was your husband? or shouto for that matter? truthfully, you were probably the most sober person in the room.

     slowly, silently, and shamefully, shouto makes his way into your bedroom, where he comes to stand at the foot of the bed with a horribly noticeable tent in his pants. he wants to look down at the floor, but he’s physically incapable of taking his eyes off your naked, sweaty form—and katsuki’s toned back, for that matter. he gulps anxiously as he waits for the perpetually angry blond to inevitably break the ice. 

     much to his surprise, however, it was you to speak up first, admitting that you didn’t mind shouto’s presence—followed by katsuki sarcastically asking if you wanted him to join, to which your body stiffened and cheeks flushed at the thought. 

     “what? don’t tell me you like the idea of that half n’ half idiot joinin’ the fun?” a wicked grin stretches over his slick lips as he quirks a brow up at you before shrugging and saying; “fine, just remember: you asked for this.”

     “you heard ‘em, todoroki, get the hell over here,” he spits out, and shouto complies immediately—he could not believe what was about to happen and neither could (nor katsuki for that matter).

     as he closes the gap between you three, he fumbles with the buttons of his dress shirt before ultimately just ripping it open and shrugging it onto the floor. repeating the same action with his pants, he struggles slightly with the zipper before tugging it down and quickly stepping out of them, nearly tripping in the process—to which katsuki has to stifle a laugh.

     shouto feels dizzy and light-headed from how hard he is, and he bites his thick bottom lip as he nervously crawls onto the oversized bed, sitting adjacent to you as he awaits further instructions from the ever-demanding bakugou. 

     “katsu—”

     “shut up,” he says gruffly, one large hand coming up to cover your mouth—he was about to dictate everything that was about to go down. “you—todoroki—listen real fuckin’ closely, because i’m not repeating myself. you can look, but ‘m still deciding if you’re allowed to touch yet—” katsuki directs his attention from him to you and asks; “whaddya think, princess? would y’like that? both of us touchin’ you?” and it’s all you can do to nod, cheeks physically heating up in shame and embarrassment. 

     “i guess i’ll allow it, then,” he says, moving his hand away from your face so he can manhandle you into a sitting up position, making you straddle his lap and telling shouto to move behind you.

     you feel your heartbeat quicken significantly now that you’re naked and sandwiched between two of the hottest men you’ve ever been blessed with the chance to encounter. dear god. take a breath, you’ve got this. …..and that’s why your pussy’s all but drooling right now? you can’t help but roll your bare cunt over your husband’s erection, letting out a delicious little moan in the process, and shouto’s equally large hands hesitantly find purchase on your hips, and you look back over your shoulder as he leans in attempt to kiss you—just to be blocked by katsuki’s hand against his pouty lips.

     “i didn’t fuckin’ say you could kiss them,” he hisses. shouto, however, mentally shrugs this off, grabs the angry blond’s wrist to move his hand, and leans in over your shoulder, pressing his chest firmly against your back, in order to—kiss your husband instead????!

     holy shit—this is so much hotter than it should be, jesus christ. you’re genuinely ashamed of the way shouto moving to kiss katsuki rather than you turns you on, and you even let a little oh my god slip in awe and horny amazement. 

     “what the actual fuck, icyhot!?” your husband explodes, trying to shove shouto away from him, but causing you to fall back fully into his lap, where you can feel his boner pressing up against your ass.

     “n–no,” you speak up. “d–do it again.” you try your best not to mutter the request, looking between the man who had crushed on you all through high school and the one you’d ended up marrying. 

     “huh!? have you both lost your fucking minds?!” 

     “please..? do it for me, ‘tsuki?” you beg as sweetly as you can, a pout tugging at your lips as you did your best kicked puppy eyes. as tough as bakugou acted, deep down, he did, in fact, have a soft spot for you, and would do nearly anything for you—and this, unfortunately, was about to be one of the things he was willing to do. maybe he had the whiskey to thank for his… bravery, but for some reason, the idea of making out with that peppermint bastard really didn’t seem so bad. ….jesus, what is he thinking?

     “tch, fine,” he clicks his tongue before he’s suddenly snatching you out of shouto’s lap and bringing you back onto his, where he shifts so his back’s against the headboard and says; “‘f y’can ride me, then sure, ‘ll do whatever you want, sweetheart.”

     nodding eagerly, you tug the waistband of his boxers down just enough to free his aching cock, where it hits his lower tummy and you impatiently use one hand to line up the angry red tip with your slick entrance before sinking down to the base with ease. you both moan at the feeling and katsuki beckons shouto over after pressing a quick kiss to your shiny lips to remind himself why he was doing this.

     shouto’s dick aches enviously, desperately wishing he could feel your heat, but quickly gets over it as his chest presses against your back once again and his lips land against katsuki’s. actually, todoroki was not an experienced kisser—at all, really; he was only copying what he had seen in movies, so he’s a little surprised when the blond’s tongue runs over the seam of his lips and his heterochromatic eyes fly open at the feeling. 

     katsuki, however, reaches around you to grab shouto’s cheeks, forcing him to part his pretty lips, and he easily slips his tongue past his kiss-swollen lips. meanwhile, shouto’s strong arms wrap around your waist while he allows your husband to explore the inside of his mouth, his face heating up despite the way a chill runs down his spine. 

     “mmh,” he hums quietly, freezing his tongue in order to give your husband a little surprise—which works very well, seeing as how katsuki pulls away with a heaving gasp.

     “what the fuck?” he pants, rolling his hips up into dripping cunt, and you let out a little moan, grinding down against him at the same time, allowing him to brush up against your g-spot while shouto moves to kiss katsuki again, large hands coming up to cup his flushed, tanned cheeks, trying to tilt his head for a better angle as he mimics the way the blond’s tongue had run over the seam of his lips, and is pleasantly surprised when he reluctantly parts his slightly thinner lips for the much calmer man. 

     jesus christ, you think to yourself, trying to bounce against your husband’s dick to the best of you ability, but groaning in frustration when his absurdly calloused hands come down against your hips to hold you in place.

     “mm—’tsuki,” you whine as he wholly focuses on kissing shouto (who was currently living out his wet dream). it’s all you can do to wiggle in place, trying to grind your clit against his neatly trimmed pubic hair, desperate for any kind of friction. meanwhile, shouto’s freezing hand comes up to grope your chest, causing you to let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of him tweaking roughly with your nipple.

     poor, poor inexperienced shouto had no gauge or concept of what exactly he was doing, relying on instinct and everything he’d seen in the little porn he had watched; he silently prays he’s acting accordingly and soon his heated left hand is coming up to grab at your other tit.

     “sh–shouto!” you moan, almost causing katsuki to pause in his action as a growl leaves his throat—now this just simply would not do, no, no, no. !!!! fuck! his dick twitches inside you as he ruts his hips upwards while holding firmly onto your hips. “je–jesus! katsuki!” 

     that’s better, he thinks to himself, a smug, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his plump lips as he tries not to overthink his kiss with todoroki. god. as fucking  embarrassing, humiliating, and shameful as it was, …..katsuki absolutley could not deny the fact that he was feeling so, so, so many things right now, things he never would have considered sober, let alone acted on, and now….. now, he was rock fucking hard as he feels the inside of shouto’s mouth, tracing his tongue along the grooves of his blindingly white teeth and inner cheeks before swirling it around his own heated muscle. 

     he wants to tell shouto he’s not half bad at this when he begins to suck on his tongue—taking him violently by surprise—but can’t bring himself to dole out the praise, not wanting him to get an ego about how well he was managing to keep up. 

     you can feel your stomach doing flips and your pussy creaming around your husband’s cock as the two men you’re sandwiched between really go at it, and suddenly your mouth feels dry as you let out a low, drawn out whine.

     “fuck,” is all you’re able to say as you dig your nails into katsuki’s back while arching your own, with shouto still pinching and tweaking with your poor, erect nipples—his hands were almost at extreme temperatures, and you choke out something about how good it feels, offering the number three hero the praise he needed—something bakugou wasn’t a huge fan of. 

     half n’ half wants to use his quirk? that’s fine—he can, too!

     the next thing you know, your hips feel scorchingly hot and you’re hearing the sound of a very small-scale explosion, and you yelp out your husband’s name, pussy fluttering around his achy length, and you have to bite your lower lip when you feel tears welling up in your eyes from all the stimulation. had you known inviting a drunk shouto to stay the night would lead to this, you would have done it years ago! …because honestly, you were crushing hard on him your freshman year of highschool together—but unfortunately for you, that’s when he had first begun to actually explore his emotions for the first time in his life, leading you to believe you never stood a chance with him.

     katsuki, however, while his primary emotion was anger, you could tell something was up with him and his feelings towards you when he stopped yelling at you as much compared to the others. don’t get one wrong, he definitely still shouted at you, because that’s just who he was, but….. it was enough for you and the girls of 1-A to pick up on—something they teased you relentlessly about behind closed doors because nobody ever dared to mention anything in front of bakugou in fear of ruining your chances together (as you see, mina and a few others were die hard shippers while the rest enabled this behavior). 

      “christ’s sake, katsuki,” you hiss as his quirk repeatedly pops off against your reddening skin and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep yourself grounded enough to scold him. …try to, anyway. “thi— this isn’t a—ahh! fuck!—a compe–titon! jesus!” you moan.

     a competition. 

     that word ring in katsuki’s ears as he pulls away from his kiss with shouto, admittedly a little breathlessly, a smirk stretching over his glossy lips.

     “now that’s an idea,” he muses out loud, causing shouto to tilt his head and your eyes to widen. goddammit, you just had to go and open your bigass mouth, didn’t you?

     “n–no; whatever you— you’re planning, forget about it,” you say as firmly as you can despite the way your pussy flutters around him.

     bakugou clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the way you whine out such a ridiculous request. 

     “mmh, nah,” he grins, hands holding you firmly in place against him, preventing you from even rolling your hips—something you’re quick to bitch about. 

     “god–dammit!” sometimes you wish your husband wasn’t so goddamn strong—it made it that much easier for him to manhandle you into any position he wanted. 

     “y’up for a little challenge, icyhot?” katsuki ignores you entirely, focusing his intense gaze onto the slightly younger man.

     “...sure,” he nods, albeit a little reluctantly, unsure of what exactly he was agreeing to. he hopes he’ll get a chance to steal a kiss from you, but for now, he figures it best to go along with whatever bakugou was about to suggest. 

     “whoever can make princess here cum the most in five minutes each can fuck their cunt,” he begins, just for shouto to interrupt him. 

     “and what of the loser?”

    “i was getting there—impatient sonuva bitch….” he mutters the last part under his breath like he wasn’t also an impatient sonuva bitch. “anyway, the loser—in this case, i’m sure it’ll be you, y’fuckin’ virgin cuck—can…. fuck right off and watch,” he finishes, cock twitching deep inside you at his own words. he was absolutely positive he’d win the little proposition he’d struck up, which is why the punishment for the loser was so harsh. when in all reality, if he was feeling kind enough, he’d let you suck shouto off as a consolation prize. ….maybe.

     “sounds good to me,” todoroki agrees to bakugou’s conditions, feeling his own dick twitch as he steels his nerves—he was so fucked. in this moment, shouto’s never been more grateful for being a fast learner, as that was his only chance at possibly succeeding in such a task. he wasn’t particularly familiar with the afab body, and so he has to actively recall all the porn he had seen—mind you, he was incredibly picky about what exactly he’s watching—when suddenly an idea strikes him and he’s asking katsuki to move his hands so he can pull you off his cock and reposition you so your back was against the bed.

     you and your husband are both confused until shouto’s pushing your thighs apart and nestling between them, icy lips kissing down your body until he reaches the mound of your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but get shy—not because you weren’t used to being eaten out, no (katsuki often ate you out until you couldn’t see straight), it was because you just simply were not expecting that from the inexperienced shouto todoroki! but it’s okay, just take a deep breath and—

     “aa–aah! fuck! shouto!” you cry out, caught off guard by the way his full lips wrap around your erect clit and begin suckling on it, his freezing tongue moving to swirl around it as he does. he doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and is more or less figuring it out as he goes based on your reactions and moans. 

     katsuki is just as taken aback as you were, but for totally different reasons; this was probably one of the last things he had expected todoroki to do, but, but, but…!!! fuck! he couldn’t even be mad about it either because he was the one who had decided to turn it into a competition. shit. okay, whatever, he’d just work around this.

     “nngh–!” one of your hands comes to run through shouto’s split hair, tugging the soft locks gently. “wh–where the fuck did you—aah! hhngh!—learn h–how to do this?” you ask breathlessly, looking down at the man between your legs, and you feel a chill run down your spine and goosebumps erupt over your skin when you realize he’s looking right back at you—staring at you intently, doing his best to gauge all your little reactions, both verbal and physical.

     katsuki can’t help but agree with your question, because seriously, where the fuck had he learned this shit!? 

     all he’s able to do, though, is watch with awe as shouto focuses wholly on his attempt to eat you out — which he was seemingly doing a good job at — as one large and calloused hand subconsciously comes down to jerk himself off slowly, thumb swiping over his bright red, leaky tip, and he hisses out a quiet fuck while your back arches off the bed.

     shouto, however, doesn’t answer, in favor of bringing a heated finger down to your slick entrance — gently prodding at it before slipping it in with ease. 

     “mmmffgh,” you whine as he curls it up slowly, all while sucking on your throbbing clit, and it doesn’t take long for a knot to build up in your lower stomach. “nngh– sh–shouto!” 

     he simply ignores you as he begins to slip a second finger in—gradually heating them up as he did—and you moan pathetically as your husband watches on in awe, his mouth horribly dry and dick achingly hard, and for a moment, he’s scared he might cum to the sight of another man eating his spouse out—so he intentionally slows his pace to something almost painfully slow to make sure he doesn’t prematurely ejaculate, wanti—no, Needing to cum inside you. 

     starting to scissor you apart now, you clench around shouto’s burning fingers desperately, whining as his freezing right hand comes up to pinch one of your already stiff nipples. 

     “nngh–!” it’s not long before you’re cumming with a loud cry of shouto’s name while pulling at his soft hair, back arching deeply off the mattress as katsuki lets out a growl at the sight, already seething with envy….. whatever; he takes in a deep breath to calm himself down and slowly starts to increase the pace at which he’s jerking himself off, groaning softly as he does. 

     todoroki doesn’t relent in his pace, however, messily eating you out throughout the duration of your orgasm, resulting in you cumming a second time not long after.

     “nnngh—’s too much, shouto—” you choke out, pulling at his hair while trying to push him away at the same time. “f–fuck!” it had maybe been two minutes, meaning you had to endure for another three. but how exactly were you meant to do that? with the way he was all but making out with your cunt, you turn your attention to katsuki, pathetically mewling for help—just for him to shut you down! reminding you that you agreed to this and that he knows you can take it.

     the most your husband had ever made you cum in one night was four times—a record he was gunning to beat tonight. 

     by the time shouto’s time was up, he had managed to make you cum three times, on his way to working you up to a fourth, before katsuki’s letting go of his dick and burying his thick fingers in todoroki’s hair, yanking him away from your pulsing heat. 

     “hey—” shouto pants breathlessly, lower face covered in your slick.

     “time’s up, icyhot,” your husband rasps out before asking you how many times you’d cum.

     “th– three, but— i need a break before we keep goin’,” you tell him, panting heavily with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. 

     katsuki simply nods in acknowledgement, untangling his fingers from shouto’s hair as all three of you take this moment to catch your breath. then, after a brief three or so minutes of rest, bakugou’s crawling on top of you as shouto watches on this time, cock leaky and painfully hard as he palms himself through his horribly tight boxers while katsuki kisses you.

     “love ya, kats,” you’re able to pant out, and shouto feels his heart break a little; he wishes he could be on the receiving end of those words some day... but for now, he shifts so he’s kneeling on the bed, legs tucked neatly under him with his thighs spread wide enough for his heated left hand to sneak past the waistband of his boxers in order to grope himself.

     bakugou smiles against your lips at your words rather than returning them, and his tongue slides out to poke its way into your already open mouth, easily licking over the insides of your cheeks and grooves of your teeth. 

     as he watches the two of you makeout, todoroki begins to reflect on his kiss with katsuki earlier, and he finds himself yearning to hear those three little words from him, too, or to be able to kiss you as well….. maybe when this is all said and done… maybe he can work up the courage to ask to join your relationship..? or maybe he’d leave early in the morning full of shame…. he isn’t quite sure yet.

     “mmngh—” you moan softly as one of katsuki’s large and calloused hands trails down your side, moving to cup your puffy cunt, before two thick fingers easily insert themselves into you without much of a warning—fortunately, you were still soaked from your slick and shouto’s spit from where he’d eaten you out so good, so your husband didn’t meet any resistance when scissoring you apart. “k–katsu–!”

     “yeah?” he pants as his cock drools uncomfortably. it’s okay. he’d just have to make you cum four times in five minutes, and—the idea that shouto might beat him at a challenge he proposed due to your fatigue from allowing that icyhot cunt to go first suddenly flashes in his mind, and he’s hardened over with a certain resolve he’d allowed to slip in his overwhelmingly horny state of mind.

     “i— ah! hnnngh— ‘m still se–sensitive,” you whine out, arching your back off the bed at the stimulation, and it’s all you can do to pull at his hair when you feel the calloused pad of his thumb press against your swollen, oversensitive clit. as the fingers almost knuckle-deep inside you press into your g-spot, you go crosseyed from the combined feeling of being finger-fucked and having your tongue sucked on (when’d he start doing that!?).

     katsuki, however, ignores your weak mewls in favor of kissing you so hard your teeth clack together briefly before he’s tilting his head for a better angle and nipping softly at your tongue, causing you to squeak in surprise. 

     rolling your hips up and grinding down against his hand, desperate for more fiction, shouto watches on in awe and horny amazement, taking notes on how your body reacted to katsuki, hoping he could imitate his actions, or develop them into his own, next time he got the chance. 

     soon, though, katsuki’s five minutes come to an end, with you only having cum twice by his doing—something that makes his eye twitch as he realizes that meant icyhot would get to fuck your cunt. ….goddammit! he’d gotten too caught up in the feeling of your lips against his to focus fully on fingering you! sure, he was just about to bring you to your third orgasm–but! oh, this so wasn’t fair! if only he’d gone first! then you wouldn’t have been so worn out!

     shit. with a sigh, he pulls away from your body as his eye begins twitching and he looks over to shouto—who currently had his hand wrapped around his cock—and lets out a huff.

     “there’s no way i’m letting him fuck you,” he grunts out, crossing his muscular arms.

     “kats, that’s not— ‘s’not fair,” you chide him, panting heavily and sitting up on your forearms. “you said— said the winner—” your cheeks flush as you remember the words he’d used and you shake your head to clear the thought from your mind. “...could fuck me—you wouldn’t wanna go back on your word, would you?” 

     shouto’s heart rate increases as you stick up for him, and he feels the extra blood circulating throughout his body go straight to his throbbing dick as his eyes light up with hope—never in a million years would he think he’d get the chance to have sex with you!

     “mm, …fine,” katsuki agrees, salty he’d lost at his own competition, but willing to do whatever to make you happy, so… he almost retches a little at the thought and he feels his heart break in his chest ever so slightly, but… if staying true to his word and letting that half n’ half bastard fuck you would make you happy, then…. he guesses he can let it slide…

     with that, shouto’s shifting onto his knees a little more in order to slide his boxers down his well-toned thighs so his pretty cock can slap against his lower tummy and he’s quick to grab you by the hips, pulling you towards him before katsuki’s words cause him to pause.

     “not so fast, icyhot, if you’re gonna fuck ‘em, then they can at least suck me off while you do,” he growls, moving so that he’s behind you and then manhandling out of shouto’s grasp so that you were facing him. “get on all fours, sweetheart,” he instructs you, and you obey with a nod, presenting shouto with your ass and drooling cunt and he swallows thickly at the sight. 

     his hands plant themselves on your hips once more and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips—you were glad shouto would at least get a chance to enjoy himself, as you’re sure he probably doesn’t have many good stress relievers, if any at all… 

     with that in mind, you make sure to arch your back nicely for the man on his knees behind you as you take your husband’s dick in one hand while supporting your weight with the other and press a little kiss to the bright red tip before slowly taking it into your hot mouth.

     katsuki hisses out a groan at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks as you gradually take him down to almost the base, your hand wrapped around what doesn’t currently fit in your mouth, and swallow thickly around him.

     “shit—” a hand is quick to bury itself in your hair to guide your pace as shouto’s jaw slackens in the slightest before he gets a grip and starts to align his swollen and leaky tip with your creamy pussy, moaning much louder than he was expecting to at the feeling of your warm, gummy walls wrapped around his virgin cock. suddenly, whatever metaphorical grip he did have immediately slips away from him as his physical grip tightens to an almost painful extent, and you’re sure he’ll leave bruises in the shapes of his fingertips—similar to the way your husband so often does.

     “aa–aah! fuck!” todoroki whines as he takes his time bottoming out—biting his tongue as he pushes into you almost agonizingly slow, causing you to moan around your husband’s dick, resulting in him pushing your head down further against him and your pussy to flutter around the poor, overwhelmed shouto.

     you nearly gag as his mushroom-headed tip hits the back of your throat, but are able to suppress your reflex to do so well enough to remove your hand from around him while you focus on breathing through your nose as you take him down to the base, until your face is flush against his pelvis, light blond pubes tickling your nostrils slightly. 

     you try to stay that way for as long as possible, swallowing around him continuously to fight your own gag reflex rather than out of consideration of his pleasure, but it’s only been a few seconds when you’re fighting against his strong palm to come up for air.

     after pulling off him with a disgustingly wet pop! and panting heavily, you make the suggestion that the two should kiss again — arguing that if your husband is just gonna offer your pussy to be fucked without asking you, then the least he could do was makeout with the man balls deep inside you.

     “what?” katsuki barks out, looking down at you, with your head between his thighs. 

     “please, ‘tsuki?” you ask nicely, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

     shouto wants to join in with your pleading—to ask katsuki for a kiss, too, but he knows better, knows your husband will begrudgingly cave to your demands and that he’ll ultimately receive another kiss.

     “tsk… fine—c’mere, icyhot,” he grunts, one hand pushing your head back down onto his dick as the other reaches for shouto. both men lean over you in order to lock lips, and the younger one can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he gets what he wants. 

     todoroki’s hips press flush against your ass as he leans over your sweaty, overstimulated body to makeout with your husband. god, you weren’t, like, …a fujoshi or anything, but…. something about the idea of katsuki and shouto going at it in particular had your stomach in knots and cunt clamping down snugly around shouto’s girth. 

     “jesus—” the half and half man pants at the feeling of your pussy, and he honestly doesn’t know how he’s managed to go this long without it. ….or if he’ll be able to live without yours specifically from here on out…… okay, it’s decided. he’d ask to join your relationship, somehow, when this was all said and done, but for now he isn’t sure whether to focus on his kiss with katsuki or the feeling of his dick throbbing almost painfully inside you. 

     ultimately, his attention is drawn to the way bakugou nips harshly at his lower lip—enough to draw a small amount of blood—and a moan gets caught in shouto’s throat, coming out as something more akin to a whimper instead; something that certainly makes katsuki’s ears perk up. had todoroki just fuckin’ whimpered from something he had done? for a reason other than getting pussy for the first time in his stupid virgin life? needless to say, it quickly goes to bakugou’s ego as he begins sucking on shouto’s lower lip, tongue swiping over it quickly at first, and then a second time that was considerably slower and more teasing in nature.

     poor shouto can feel himself going cross-eyed as he ruts into you sloppily, heavy balls smacking against your clit, and he knows he won’t last long like this at all. he’s kinda bummed he can’t …make love to you the way he would prefer, but right now, he doesn’t find himself picky at all—just grateful to be a part of this entire thing, even if he may not get the chance again in the future. that’s why it was critical for him to be present in the moment, literally drooling from how good he feels, as he uses his quirk on his tongue while swirling it around katsuki’s, the now freezing muscle licking over the insides of his cheeks and grooves of his teeth, sending a chill down your husband’s spine. 

    the saliva being exchanged between the two begins to dribble out from the corners of their mouths and drip down their chins and onto your arched back. holy shit. you nearly choke on katsuki’s dick at the feeling of their spit rolling down your spine and you moan in both disgust and twisted pleasure. 

    “nnmgh,” you moan, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his dick as shouto drills into you. now it’s you who finds themselves drooling profusely, your spit running down katsuki’s cock, soaking his balls. 

     the blond can feel himself throbbing down your throat and he groans from the combined stimulation of you blowing him and shouto’s icy tongue—he’s close and he knows it. …meaning that half and half whore was definitely about to cum, with the way your pussy is surely milking him for all he’s worth. 

     “shouto,” he grunts out, pulling away just enough to tell him that if he’s gonna cum, then he has to pull out—that katsuki was the only one allowed to cum inside you. 

     todoroki was more taken aback by the usage of his first name from bakugou of all people, and it’s all he can do to nod and mumble a quiet yeah. 

     it’s not much longer before both mean reach their climax around the same time—with shouto pulling out to jerk himself off for a few more seconds and he’s cumming all over your back with a loud cry as your husband cums in your mouth, thick cum spilling down your throat, past your tongue, not even giving you a chance to taste him.

     after both men catch their breath, katsuki slowly pulls you off of him as he gazes down at you with a particularly soft look in his eye—or maybe it’s satisfaction, you’re too fucked out to really tell. 

     “y’okay, princess?” your husband rasps out, grinning to himself at your teary eyes, one hand cupping your cheek, and you blindly lean into his warm touch.

     “mmhm,” is all you can hum in response, borderline brain dead from how many times you’d cum tonight—clit still throbbing from the earlier stimulation. 

     “good….” he directs his attention to shouto, but doesn’t ask him anything, instead looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his dick for a moment longer than he’d like to admit. he quickly redirects his gaze to shouto’s heterochromatic one, and the softest, barely there smile tugs at the corners of his lips. it was so small and brief, one might think they were hallucinating had they seen it, but todoroki catches sight of it, and he wants to say something, but finds himself speechless; so instead, he leans in to kiss your husband again, and, very much to his surprise, he doesn’t immediately recoil. given, he doesn’t lean in to meet him either, but he does kiss him back as you shift to the side, panting heavily while you watch the two muscular and domineering men go at it for the nth time tonight, and you can hardly believe your eyes.

     one hand slips down in between your legs as they kiss, rubbing gently at your sensitive bundle of nerves while shouto takes the initiative this time, running his now heated tongue over the seam of katsuki’s lips before licking into his mouth, but moans quietly when the usually angry, but now somewhat calm, blond begins sucking on the hot muscle, one hand coming up to almost cradle the back of shouto’s head as he buries in fingers in his two-toned hair, pulling at it roughly.

     “y’know icyhot, you’re really not that bad at this,” he tells him, which is the closest to doling out praise he’ll ever get. 

     shouto, however, takes this to heart as a soft smile pulls at his lips and suddenly he finds himself cupping katsuki’s face and knocking him onto the bed, clumsily clamoring on top of him, and your jaw genuinely drops at the scene in front of you. holy shit.

     “yeah?” shouto breathes from on top of katsuki, who was just as shocked as you were, if not moreso. what the fuck? how the fuck? what was he meant to do? he looks over to you for an idea of where to go with this, and his eyes widen when he sees you touching yourself to the sight of them. …alright, he supposes he can get behind this.

     looking back over to shouto, he replies: “sure, ..but i’m better,” and easily manages to flip the pair so that he was on top instead.

     “nngh–” you moan as softly, your free hand coming to grope one of your tits, pinching and tweaking with your already erect nipples. you don’t know if you can handle another orgasm, but the sight of the pair in front of each other is simply too hot to not jerk to.

     shouto, meanwhile, wraps his arms around katsuki’s neck as he pulls him in for a disgustingly sloppy and heated kiss, lips parting by themselves as he cranes his neck upwards. similarly, he moans as well, tongue already seeking out katsuki’s while you fondle yourself and slowly work yourself up to one final orgasm.

     nipping at his lower lip the same way he’d done to shouto earlier, katsuki retaliates by pulling away from the kiss to bite at his neck — even going as far as to suck against a few particular spots, leaving hickeys to bloom in the place of his mouth. for a moment, the idea of jerking shouto off crosses his mind, but that would be going too far for bakugou. 

     you, however, encourage this behavior, telling them to put on a show for you as you try not to cringe at the feeling of shouto’s cum drying on your bare back.

     so, it’s shouto who finds himself reaching for katsuki’s dick without a second thought, and he heats up his hand a bit to tease the poor blond (there is nothing poor about that man…), causing him to hiss in a mix of surprise and pleasure. 

     “shit—you’d think you would ask someone before just grabbing their dick,” he grunts out, making shouto chuckle a bit at his words.

     “sorry,” he says simply, thumb running over the leaky slit of his mushroom-headed tip, and he really, really wishes he could suck him off…… christ. maybe… maybe he should ask? you were the one who told them to put on a show after all..!

     shouto ultimately decides against it, though, too embarrassed to do so, and instead settles for jerking katsuki off slowly and with intent. 

     “nngh–” bakugou nearly whimpers—not that he’d ever actually do something like that, obviously—and he pulls at shouto’s hair, dick still sensitive from the way you’d sucked him off so good a few moments prior.

     it doesn’t take too long before katsuki finds himself cumming sooner than he’d like to admit, biting down on shouto’s neck in order to cope with the stimulation from his former classmate and fellow pro-hero. 

    you, too, find yourself cumming rather quickly, back arching off the mattress as shouto slows his pace to a halt, pulling his hand away and licking katsuki’s cum off it while making full eye contact with him—something that, shamefully, turned both you and the blond on. 

     you two would have to have a very serious discussion after this about how to move on from here, but for now, the two men turn their focus back to you, finally worn out for the night. katsuki easily shifts to lay next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as shouto moves to get off the bed and go back to his guest room where he’d lay awake for the rest of the night—until he hears you call out for him softly, inviting him to sleep in your bed for the night; something katsuki doesn’t protest against, too tired to do so—and even if he did, his heart wouldn’t be in it. unfortunately, he very much enjoyed his time with the two of you tonight, and might seriously have to entertain your future request of letting shouto join your relationship.

     in the meantime, however, shouto abides and comes to lay on the other side of you, flushed and sweaty body pressing against your back as your chest smushes against katsuki’s significantly warmer one, and you’re quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat and shouto’s steady breathing.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

[destinationtoast]

1/3 - Hi there! Three (I think) part ask incoming. You're the main person I know of who compiles tons of interesting fandom stats, so I wanted to ask you about it if you have the time to answer. :) I think a lot about how AO3 works great as a fan*fic* archive, but for other fanworks, like images, audio, video, etc., it's only as good as wherever the media is being hosted. With the way hosting sites come and go, or change their TOS to nuke nsfw or queer content, etc., it makes me wonder

how many broken image links litter AO3 at this point. I know it's not considered the primary place to find fanart, but a lot of folks do post images there—for events like Big Bangs, as standalone art, and even as decorative section breaks, etc. My question is: do you think there's a way to look at, say, works tagged with #fanart (of which there are 99,504 atm) and determine what percentage of those are broken links? From what little I understand, one would have to (perhaps with the use of a simple bot?) try to open any link bordered by the <img src> html, and see what portion of those return an error versus what ones actually load? I suppose it could even be something like looking at fanart posted in 2007, 2012, 2017, and 2022 to compare how many older links are broken versus newer links. Anyway, this may be completely unfeasible, but I figured I'd ask about your thoughts! Thanks!

Ooh, thanks for the great question! I took a while to answer because I wasn't initially sure what to recommend and ended up gathering some data to investigate. (If anyone else also has relevant data, please share in the notes!)

I liked your idea of looking at samples different years going back, and I decided to look through 100 AO3 works tagged "Fanart" (or a subtag) that were posted 10 years ago -- as a very fast starting point, I didn't even take a random sample of works, I instead looked at the first 100 multimedia fanworks posted in July 2014. (And August, when necessary; see more notes on methodology at the end.) Please keep in mind that this sample that may not be very representative of AO3 more broadly; to get better estimates, more sampling would be needed. Based on this initial data gathering (and the fact that most fanworks on AO3 were posted within the past 10 years), I would tentatively guess that that most fanart, fanvids, and podfic on AO3 still have accessible multimedia.

Given how many broken links and embeds there are on older webpages, I assumed that a ton of the links from 10 years ago would be broken. But I was pleasantly surprised by the results:

Wow -- 10 years on roughly 90% of the multimedia still works! I was honestly floored; I'd been originally planning to also look at 5 years ago to see how much better that was, but if ~90% are still working 10 years on, 5 years ago doesn't have room to be dramatically better. (However, I'd love to see more follow up sampling across different years to find out.)

There were a lot of AO3 users in this sample who posted multiple works -- some posted as many as a dozen multimedia works in July 2014. I didn't want the results to be overly skewed by any one fanwork creator, so I also redid the analysis with just one work from each unique creator:

Okay, cool, those results are pretty similar. I also did some further breakdowns on this smaller set of works to look at which hosts creators were using, and how many of the hosts were still working:

The most common fanart host used in this sample was Tumblr, then wixmp -- which I think from some very quick googling might be because Deviantart switched to using Wix for image hosting at some point? (i.e., I think most of those artists may have posted their art on Deviantart, then linked to/embedded the image on AO3, and the image's direct URL was was wixmp.) There were a few other hosts at the time that were used by 5+ different artists in the sample, and then there were a whole lot of hosts were used by just one or a few artists.

Most of the 10-year-old fanart is still up for all of these hosting categories! Photobucket is the least reliable of the most commonly used hosts. In the Other category, 25% of the links are broken, but that's still better than I expected (see full host list here).

This is getting long, so I'm moving the breakdowns for fanvids and podfic beneath the cut:

Fanvids were almost all hosted on YouTube, Vimeo, or both (the above categories are not mutually exclusive). All the Vimeo links still worked, whether they required a password to view or not. Most YouTube links were working, and the few missing ones had almost all been taken down by YouTube for copyright reasons (according to the errors I got -- I'm not rendering judgment about whether they were actually fair use), rather than by the vidder who posted it. And almost a third of vidders also linked to other hosts besides the big two, but many of those links were broken; 59% still worked. (see full host list here)

For podfic, mediafire was a popular solution 10 years ago, though many podficcers used it as a backup rather than the main link that they shared. A lot of podficcers made use of a fandom hosting site that specialized in podfic -- either parakaproductions.com or audiofic.jinjurly.com. Four podficcers used soundcloud (often as a backup). And once again there were a lot of less-frequently used hosts, often used as backup links; 69% of those still worked. (see full host list here)

Some methodology notes and further thoughts:

For fanvids and podfic (but mostly not from fanart), the fanwork creators tended to provide multiple links, and in those cases, I counted the multimedia as working if at least one of the links was still working.

I counted embedded media and links to other sites that host the media all the same way.

I counted the media as broken if I got a 404 when I tried to visit it, or if a site like YouTube had taken it down due to copyright issues, or if I got an Access Denied message for a site like Google Drive.

I counted the media as working if it required a password that was given on the page (common with Vimeo), or if an embed was broken but there were working links to other sites.

How representative is this data? Well, these samples contained most/all of the multimedia fanworks posted in July 2014; that month, there were 70 fanvids, 135 podfic, and 186 pieces of fanart posted that haven't been deleted since. So it's pretty representative of July 2014 specifically. :) But there could have been, say, a fanwork challenge going on in July 2014 that caused unusual uploading patterns then.

The above data gathering and analysis took me several hours over several days. If you want to follow up, you could do more data gathering similar to what I did (I'm happy to elaborate on my process as needed). Or you could write a bot to do something similar; you could have it fetch more AO3 fanworks and try following the links within each work. However, that would be slightly tricky; I ran across more kinds of errors and complicated situations than I expected (e.g., if a YouTube video has been taken down due to copyright, it still has a working YouTube page; sometimes an embed is broken, but if you open the link within the embed in a separate window, it still works fine; many Vimeo links require a password to test, and it could be hard for the bot to reliably find the password in the surrounding text). So you'd have to program your bot to be able to handle a bunch of different special cases.

Regardless of which path you are considering, if you or anyone else does any follow up work here, I encourage you to start by looking through a bunch of fanworks yourself and deciding which scenarios you want count as "working" vs. "not working," and any other things you want to pay attention to.

Hope that helps, and please feel free to DM me with follow up questions. And if you follow up, please share anything else you figure out in this space!

[just-jordie-things]

let the light in - ryomen sukuna

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 15.5k warnings: mentions of fighting and injuries, reader has a cursed technique but i don't describe it bc i'm lazy, she's actually pretty weak in this ngl i needed her to be a bit of a damsel in distress. sukuna is pretty out of character but he has to be. also sukuna can take control of yuji's body when he's asleep bc i decided so ok it's my first time writing for him so bare with me. summary: reincarnation!au with a twist. in every life sukuna finds you in, he has to remind you of who you once were- and who you once were to each other. it's a burden, but it's one he's carried for centuries and he wouldn't have it any other way. more info: slowburn enemies to ?? to lovers, sukuna is hopelessly in love with reader its very fun ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ ooh let the light in // at your back door yelling cause i wanna come in // ooh turn your light on // look at us, you and i back at it again ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Finding her in this life was the first thing on his mind as soon as his consciousness was manifested.  Just like every era before this one, she’s always his first thought.

The second thought was- what the fuck? 

In all of his centuries walking this earth, he’d never been quite out of body like this.  As in, in a completely different body from his own.  And much to his displeasure, he’d manifested inside of some brat jujutsu sorcerer that was a bit too strong for his own good.  No worries, though, after they tracked down a few more of his cursed fingers he’d be able to take proper control and Itadori Yuji would cease to exist as soon as Sukuna regained his full strength.

So for some time, he played nice.  Or, as nice as he could, that was.  He sat back in his domain and waited.  He’d never been one with a strong sense of patience- he may have been a man once but he was a curse now- but if it meant strengthening his chances in being reunited with her sooner, then he would play the long game.  Besides, he could have some fun torturing the brat and his friends for a little while, right? No harm in some chaos and carnage along the way.  He would need good stories to tell her when they were together again, anyways.

There were times where the brat began to wonder what it was Sukuna was doing there, quietly tucked into his domain.  On the rare occasion that he didn’t rear his head into conversation with a nasty comment coming from a mouth materialized on his cheek or the back of his hand.  Times passed where Yuji would cringe awaiting Sukuna’s inevitable filth, but instead he was gifted with silence from the curse inhabiting him.  The young sorcerer could only assume that this meant he was doing something else- but what? What could he possibly occupy himself with while trapped in his own domain? Some days Yuji worried he was plotting something, but others he wondered if the King of Curses was just lost in thought.  Did he daydream?

Sukuna wouldn’t call it that, but if anyone were able to catch him in the act, they’d know it was exactly that.  All he could do with his time is imagine how he’d reunite with her in this life.  It was one of his favorite parts of each new century or so, and after hundreds of lifetimes, there were plenty of memories to keep himself occupied with.

This time he knew he’d have to outdo himself, seeing as he was in an unfamiliar body, and he could only hope that she liked this one as much as the last.  Perhaps the next time he took control of it he’d make sure everything was up to standard- he couldn’t have her rejecting him just because he was in some brat’s body this time.  On the other hand, he knew her to be more playful and experimental than he was, so maybe she’d find a change in host exciting.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his delight, Sukuna is reunited with the great love of his life sooner than expected.  To his great displeasure, it’s at exactly the wrong time.

He’d been irritated enough having his brat vessel tap out just because he couldn’t take on a measly little Special Grade.  Of course, he wasn’t about to appease some righteous jujutsu sorcerer’s agenda by exorcizing the curse himself.  But in the end, the curse disappointed him too, thinking that it could pick a fight with the King of Curses and come out of it alive.

Pride outweighed vengeance, and he found himself entertained with playing with the Special Grade.  Playing, because of course it’s abilities were weak compared to real jujutsu, unlike the childish display the brat had put up first.

He’s so drawn in by his play fight with the curse that he’d completely missed her- that is until he’s using his Domain Expansion, and from the corner of one of his eyes he finally notices.

While it’s a shock that he’s managed to let the great love of his life go unnoticed, she isn’t exactly… conscious.

The special grade is sliced diced and forgotten, barely even a blip in Sukuna’s memory now once he recognizes the slumped over body on a pile of rubble a few hundred feet away.  He’s delighted, ecstatic even.  The bloodthirsty grin on his face is replaced by a beam of pure thrill.  He’d previously thought it might take years to find her in this life, so to stumble across her now, after getting control of this body over a mere pest, was a real treat.

He approaches her limp body so quickly he’s practically teleported to her, and his beam begins to falter as he takes in her current state.

It’s not a matter of worry that she’s fairly beat up and knocked unconscious so hard there’s soft snores between heavy breaths, her mortal body working overtime to keep her alive at all- it was nothing a quick use of his Reverse Cursed Technique couldn’t fix.

The wince of disgust that contorts his features is directed solely at her attire.  

Crisp black button up torn open to reveal the same shade of undershirt snugly fitting her underneath, paired with pants of the same material.  He didn’t need to see the crest at the collar of her shirt to give him further context as to what she was up to in this century.

“Of course,” He utters through his snarl as he crouches down towards her, hands glowing as he promptly heals her wounds.  She doesn’t awaken, her body growing even more exhausted after being put through the technique, but her muscles do appear to relax as she slumps further into the dirty ground.  “You would be a sorcerer in this lifetime.  Idiot,” 

The cruel name falls from his lips with nothing but melted affection.  No other person on this earth would be allowed to hear him speak this way and live to tell the tale.  It was reserved only for her- and she wasn’t even awake to hear it now.

With steady hands Sukuna gathers her in his arms, trying to bend her into a more comfortable position.  She doesn’t wince or complain when bruised limbs drag across broken slabs of concrete.  If he wasn’t able to hear the steady beat of her heart, she would have easily been mistaken for dead already.

“A shitty reunion this time around, I’m afraid,” 

Sukuna sighs before he sits fully on the ground.  He’s not sure how much longer he’d be in control of this body, but any thoughts of fleeing to bring as much destruction to Tokyo is far from his mind.  He wants nothing more than to sit here with his lover and hope that she’d wake back up before he’s dragged back into his domain.

With one arm wrapped under her shoulders to keep her limp body closely tucked to him, his free hand brushes the messy strands of hair away from her resting face.  She looks peaceful, even though when she wakes she’d still carry the aches of her healed injuries.  The tips of his fingers linger over her soft cheek as he admires her.

“Just as beautiful in this life as you were in every one before it, my love,” He murmurs, so quiet that even if she were conscious enough to hear it, she probably wouldn’t have.

He only gets a few moments of peace with her before he can feel a stir from inside of him, and he can faintly make out Yuji gaining his consciousness back.  He snarls in his aggravation, wishing he could knock the brat out so he could get just a little more time with his long lost love, even if she wasn’t her usual lively self.

“Come, we have things to do” He tells her, before he pulls her closer and lifts her up.  

He makes his way out of the destroyed building with leisure, knowing that the other sorcerer, Fushiguro, would be waiting outside for a fight.  It wasn’t in his plans to end the kid’s life just yet, but with the reunion of his one true love coming prematurely, things might have to change.  Oh well, he was flexible.

She fusses in his arms upon the lift, but even with her pinching brows and twitching eyelids, she never quite wakes up.  Which was alright, they would have plenty of time to properly catch up in a bit.  Sukuna had other things to handle first.

It would be some time still before she properly met the King of Curses face to face- in this life anyways- as shortly after his departure of the ruined building, he would have to set her aside to take care of a few of the weaker level shikigamis that the Fushiguro kid sent his way.  After ripping the brat’s heart out of their shared chest, it would be a few weeks before things seemingly transitioned back to normal.

When (y/n) would finally come to in the infirmary a few hours after it all went down, Megumi would relay how the King of Curses had carried her out in his arms.  She’d give him a bitter laugh, thinking he was trying to lighten the mood after the news of the death of their friend.  But Megumi wasn’t usually very good at telling jokes, and after seeing his grave expression stay put, her face would fall.

“You’re serious?” 

Megumi nods, the thin line of his lips unwavering.

(y/n) blinks a few times as she processes it slowly.  She’s still not sure that she believes him, but she doesn’t have a reason not to either.  If Gojo had told her this she’d have rolled her eyes, and maybe called him insensitive and unserious, but why would Megumi make something like that up? 

“I don’t understand,” She tells him with a furrowed brow, and the way Megumi shrugs one shoulder unenthusiastically tells her he didn’t understand it any better than she did.  “You’re telling me he saved me?” 

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Megumi replies dryly.  He should’ve known she’d ask him questions he clearly didn’t have the answers for, so he tried to provide her with what he did know so that maybe she wouldn’t torment him with more of her own questions.  “But he brought you out, and set you down somewhere with your head propped up, and he didn’t try to attack you at all.  At least, it looked like he didn’t” 

Her tongue darts over the dryness of her bottom lip as her jaw hangs open at him.  She doesn’t bother him with more useless questions, but that doesn’t mean the whole ordeal wasn’t plaguing her mind.

Something was very strange about that behavior.  But with Yuji gone, she figured it was no use trying to decipher it all anyways.  Maybe after some time when her grief wears off into something she could live with, she could forget about it completely. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With Yuji turning out to be alive and well, Sukuna’s plans shifted once more.  He’d tortured him as best he could without the ability of taking control of the body, letting his friend be turned into a transfigured human, refusing to kill the spirit that called itself Mahito- as upsetting as it was to his brat vessel, Sukuna cared very little for such trivial events.  In fact, if Yuji were to shut up about it, he probably could have forgotten completely.  He only had one goal on his mind- to return to her again.  Anything else was merely a stepping stone along the way.

Just as before, Sukuna spends most of his time in his domain without much noise.  Except this time, Yuji starts to get an inkling of what he’s doing.

“It’s unbecoming and submissive of you to pretend to be dead,” 

Sukuna taunts one day while Yuji’s working on his ‘training’ on Gojo’s couch while he invests himself with a romantic movie.  His sudden appearance was a good test to his abilities, though, as the sleeping cursed puppet on Yuji’s lap doesn’t stir.  It was safe to say that Yuji had gotten as used to sharing his body with the curse as he was going to get.

“What if your little sorcerer friends need you?” Sukuna chuckles.  He quite enjoys the image of Fushiguro and the little red-headed girl struggling to keep up with mere Second Grade curses.  

“They’re fine” Yuji replies casually, barely paying attention to the mouth on his face that wasn’t his.  The movie was just getting good, after all.

“You think they can manage to hold their own?” Sukuna scoffs at the thought.  “With half-assed cursed techniques like theirs?” 

“Fushiguro and Kugisaki are the most cutthroat people I’ve ever known.  Didn’t Fushiguro almost kick your ass?” Yuji mutters, more irritated than offended by Sukuna’s cruelty.  “You’re just lucky you haven’t had to deal with (y/l/n)” 

So is that what she was calling herself this time? Sukuna’s lips tilt into a smirk.

“She doesn’t seem like much to be afraid of,” The words themselves are harsh, but something in his tone changes.  Enough that Yuji starts to lose focus on the television.  “Last I saw her she was half dead.  If it weren’t for me, she would have been dead-dead” 

That finally catches Yuji’s full attention, and he misses the next few lines of the movie when he asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sukuna’s silent, thoughtfully so, as he tries to find just the right way to play his cards.  Does he use his history with the brat’s friend as a scare tactic? Or does he keep that little fact to himself for a while longer? Either way, the longer he’s silent, the more Yuji begins to go stir crazy.

“Hey, you old curse!” He hollers suddenly, causing the cursed puppet in his lap to wake up and start to get aggressive.  Yuji heaves as the tiny thing rears a heavy punch into his gut, but it doesn’t stop him from interrogating the curse inside of him.  “What did you mean by that!?” He huffs out.

Sukuna chuckles, and just as quickly as he’d appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, he disappeared again, hiding away in his domain and entertaining himself with the sight of Yuji getting beat up by a little cursed teddy bear.

Perhaps he’d let the brat overthink for a little while longer, anxiety was a form of suffering after all, wasn’t it? At least watching the brat worry himself sick about it would provide him some amusement for the coming days.  Until the sanction of his fake death is lifted, and he could go back to his goal of being reunited with his love.  

(y/l/n).  Her new surname rings in his head as he settles in his domain and lets his mind begin to wander again.  As pretty as it was, he’d have to return it to the proper name.  His name.

Yuji is attacked by Yaga’s cursed puppet a few more times that evening, but not due to the film changing his range of emotions.  In fact, it was due to his complete lack of focus on the movie.  All he could think about was what business Sukuna could possibly have with (y/n).

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When he makes his surprise reappearance for his friends, Yuji debates on pulling (y/n) aside and asking her about what Sukuna had mentioned.  But for all he knew, he very well could have been toying with him, and ultimately he decided to enjoy what little time he had to catch up with his friends before they dove into the Exchange Event.  It just didn’t seem worth bringing up at this time.

But for some reason, when she takes her seat as the Tokyo students begin their planning, Yuji’s compelled to sit beside her.  It’s not an odd choice, it’s not out of character for him, she is his friend after all, but he’s quite aware of the way his feet move on their own accord to carry him to the empty seat beside her.  Yuji knows his body, and he knows he wasn’t the one commanding it to do that.

It makes him gulp when he unceremoniously plops into the seat.  (y/n) gives him a look, something crossed between confusion and amusement, but she brushes it off and doesn’t say a word as she shifts her focus back to Maki.  Yuji tries to ignore it as well, a bit embarrassed about the whole display.  Was that really Sukuna? He tried to clear his mind, too, it was quite important that he took in everything Maki was saying, but his mind is wrapped up in whatever game the King of Curses was playing right now.

And finally, when he thinks he’s heard enough of the game plan for the event, he feels it.

The slit under his right eye opens, the side facing (y/n).  Yuji holds his breath, hoping that Sukuna doesn’t open his loud mouth and bark out something insulting, but he doesn’t.  His mouth never materializes.  He simply stares.

It’s almost worse.

A few minutes pass and no one seems to notice, as the attention of the room is still commanded by Maki.  Except for Yuji himself, as he’d stopped listening to her altogether while he anxiously awaited whatever was to come next.  What was he doing? He began to bounce his leg.

His throat closes up when he sees (y/n) turn her head out of the corner of his eye.  He doesn’t meet her gaze, even though she’s clearly staring at him- or Sukuna, he supposes- but she doesn’t speak up.  She’s just as silent as the curse he’s hosting.  Still, her gaze remains on the dark eye peeking out at her.  If they weren’t in a room with all of their peers, Yuji would’ve broken his ignorant demeanor by now, but something inside him tells him to keep his mouth shut.

When the group disbanded for a quick lunch before the event officially started, (y/n) remained seated while the others filtered out, and when Yuji began to stand, she stopped him.  All she’s done is reach a hand out, she barely even touches his arm, but it’s enough for him to stop in his tracks, and he stays put in his seat.

They don’t say anything until the room is empty, and even then, (y/n) chooses to speak quietly, almost under her breath.

“What the hell is going on with…” She pauses, her eyes flickering between Yuji’s and the ones below, before she raises her hand in a small gesture.  “Him?” She mumbles it so low, afraid that saying his name would be enough to summon him, even though he’s so clearly already there before her.

“I don’t-” 

Yuji starts, but before he could say anything- or think of anything to say- Sukuna’s mouth is materializing on his cheek.  It’s an unsettling feeling on its own, but Yuji always felt a certain chill on his spine whenever he’d feel that mouth forming a smile.

“Just missed lookin’ at you, sweetheart” 

Yuji’s face is sickly pale in a matter of seconds, the fear that settles over him tenses up all of his muscles, to the point they ache, and as much as he wants to remove himself (and Sukuna) from this situation, he’s frozen in place.  Too stunned to say anything, too stunned to move, he just stands there helplessly as (y/n’s) wide eyes dart between both pairs on his face.

(y/n’s) reaction comes first, the shocked expression wearing off into something else.  Yuji can’t place what it is- anger, disgust- but she loses the desire to keep the conversation quiet as reality settles over her.

“What!?” It comes out in a screech, but it’s just as quickly followed by absolute rambling.  “What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is he talking about?” She awkwardly shifts her gaze between both sets of eyes, unsure and unfamiliar with how to communicate with the both of them.

“I- I don’t-” 

Again, Yuji’s interrupted before he can come up with anything.

“We still have all the time in the world, for now you just keep your pretty little head focused on this game of yours, hm?” 

Just like that, the fanged mouth is disappearing and Yuji’s cheek is returned to it’s normal state again.

(y/n) blinks, going silent again while her face is flushing with color.  Now her eyes seem to focus on the lower, darker pair of eyes.  It’s hard to gauge what Sukuna is thinking, or feeling.  With only a narrowed set of eyes to go off of, not to mention he’s a reckless curse, he’s not a man, she doesn’t know what to make of the interaction.

But with the memory of what Megumi had told her, a dread begins to weigh down her chest.  Whatever this behavior was about, it couldn’t mean anything could.  It was unwanted attention, that was for sure.  No matter how warm her face felt, or how nervous she suddenly was just being around Yuji.

Soon enough the eyes shut too, but even though it appears it’s only her and Yuji in the room, she can still feel Sukuna’s presence.  She swallows the lump in her throat like it’s lead.

“Let’s just…” Her eyes flit away from the closed lids, meeting Yuji’s warm but worried gaze again.  She’s not sure if it’s a comfort or not that he seems just as anxious as she feels.  “Let’s just get through the Exchange Event first” She suggests.

She’s sure that this is the right choice of action.  There was simply no time to dwell on Sukuna’s out of character behavior- then again she didn’t know him, she didn’t know what was in character, he was a curse!- not with all of their peers relying on them to secure the win for the Tokyo Prefecture.

Although she couldn’t deny her head wasn’t exactly in the game during the event.  When she finds herself getting sloppy, taking hits she normally should have been able to dodge, she begins to curse the King of Curses himself.  Surely this whole thing was an act, that was what he was best at, wasn’t it? Torture? Mind games? He was probably laughing it up in his domain watching her struggle so miserably at an event she couldn’t have been more prepared for.

When shit really hit the fan and curses and curse users reared their ugly heads in the middle of a semi-light hearted game, it dawned on her just how out of it she’d really become.  Suddenly it didn’t matter how Mai shouldn’t have been able to get that shot at her shoulder- or how she should’ve seen Miwa’s Domain Expansion coming.  There was no way she was going to let a curse like him get in her head and keep her from protecting her friends and herself from a real threat.

And once this attack in the middle of their event was taken care of and the scores were settled, she’d find a way to give the King of Curses a piece of her mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That time came sooner than expected, and it’s seemingly out of nowhere when he pays her a little visit.

Deep down she knows that she should be terrified when the King of Curses is at her door requesting her time for ‘a talk’ as he called it.  A thousand questions should flood her mind, and after some time they’ll begin to register, slowly and one by one, far later than it’s appropriate to ask.

He’d gotten her alone, and this should terrify her further, she should feel like a lamb in the presence of a wolf- no- curse.  But for some reason, when he enters the training room she’d been doing warm ups in, all she does is stare at him.

Sukuna knows that there’s no way she could have mistaken him for the brat, not with all of his markings, not with his vermillion eyes, not with the abundant amount of cursed energy he carried with him.  Any other mortal would straighten up, freeze in place and stare at him in utter fear as they waited for whatever fate he bestowed upon them.

Not her.

Foolishly, he believes this is due to the lifetimes they’d spent together before this one.  Even though he’s well aware of the rules of the courtship.  He recalls many meetings before this one where he’d had to open her eyes to the Binding Vow that brought her back in every lifetime.  Still, he naively held onto a hope that her lack of reaction to his presence now is because somewhere inside of her, she knows she doesn’t need to be afraid of him like the others.

(y/n’s) true feelings couldn’t have been farther from his assumptions.  It may have been a moment of poor judgment, but the moment he’d materialized at that door, irritation overrode self preservation.  It didn’t matter that the cursed energy he carried was so heavy it was palpable.  

She took one look at the King of Curses and furrowed her brows like she was a child he’d wronged, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear for her life when she’s the first to speak.

“What the fuck are you doing out?” 

Out, it’s a funny choice of word, isn’t it? Sukuna can’t help the chuckle of amusement.  Did she mean out and about, casually roaming the sacred grounds, or could she have meant out due to his control over the brat’s body? 

A frown settles on her lips when she sees he’s already enjoying himself.  She should be wondering what he’s been up to before he came here, or when exactly it was he gained control over Yuji’s body.

“And what happened to-” 

Before she could fully voice her worry for her friend, Sukuna’s waving a dismissive hand.

“The brat’s fine, not everything has to be about him, you know” He scolds her as if this was a conversation they’d had a hundred times before now.  Her frown deepens.

“Forgive me for caring more about him than a curse like you” She scoffs back at him.

How was it that in every lifetime she had to have that same bad attitude? Of course eventually she’d always settle down and warm back up to him, century and century again.  Some cases took days, others years, and Sukuna was starting to get a feeling that due to the circumstances they found themselves in this time around, this case could be the latter.  He frowns at the thought.

He found her so quickly this time, why did she have to be so stubborn? 

“Always such a brat, I can hardly tell the difference between you,” He replies.

The look of disgust on her face is washed away by mild surprise.  Both from the soft and easy cadence of his usually rough and cruel voice, and from the realization that he probably should have killed her for talking back to him the way she did.  Now she starts to wonder just how many buttons she can push before she sees the true side of the King of Curses.

Her brows pinch together as she watches him with calculations behind her eyes.  Was this all a part of the act from before? 

“How interesting could things have been if you’d swallowed the finger that day and not this brat, hm?” He muses, and he seems genuinely curious about it.  

(y/n) can barely keep up with him, trying too hard to jump to conclusions before he’s revealed them.  Then again, there might be nothing to understand at all- this was all a part of the mind games, wasn’t it? She makes a mental note to meet with Gojo about this.  Sukuna must’ve had greater plans in mind that the strongest sorcerer should be looped in on.  Even if so far… he hadn’t exactly done anything… just made her friendship with Yuji fairly awkward.

Sukuna hasn’t moved from the doorway.  Her eyes sweep over him carefully as she wonders if this is purposeful.  If his motive is to give her a false sense of safety.

“Humor me for a moment, (y/n)” 

He sounds out her name like it’s an unfamiliar word, and for the first time since he’d appeared minutes prior, there’s a familiar hollow in her chest.  At first she tags it as distress, but the way it lingers like a dull ache has her double guessing it’s cause.

“What?” 

No should’ve been what came out of her mouth- if anything needed to be said at all.  Would he let her leave if she tried? Would he punish her for it? However, despite every instinct begging to drag her in a different direction, she can’t help the intrigue she feels for him.

“What’re you doing here as a sorcerer?” He hums again with his question, eyes narrowing on her slightly as he takes account of her every reaction.

She’s holding her breath right now, it’s obvious in her tense jaw and unmoving chest.  Not even a strand of hair waves in it’s place.  Every part of her is so still, he could easily mistake it as her natural instinct to fear him as her natural predator.  He knows this isn’t the case.

She opens her mouth to protest the question at first, but just as quickly, her jaw slacks, and she’s closing it softly as she sits on it a little more thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?” 

It irks him to have a question answered with another question.  This was another quirk of hers that she always had in the earlier stages of their reunion.  Even with the grain of irritation, Sukuna still finds himself amused in the way that she truly is the same person in every lifetime.  She may have different names, and occasionally a feature or two isn’t quite how he remembered it- and trust him, he remembered- but her soul remained pure, unfiltered, unchanging.  She was always his.

“The last we spoke, you had quite the unshakable opinion about a society that breeds and boasts of it’s powerful children to protect them, only to leave them in neglect…” He trails off, scanning her features in the search of any flash of recognition.  If anything, she’s only more confused.  Her brows are furrowed and her lips have formed a pout which he deemed as her sign of defeat in trying to understand him.  “Something about creating the things you fear.  But it was quite some time ago, and I see you’ve so clearly changed your mind” He raises a hand, palm up as he lazily gestures to her.

(y/n’s) posture straightens up, partially out of her defensive nature, but mostly due to the seriousness in his tone.  Logic tells her she shouldn’t be taking anything he says as truth, it would be foolish, and in the end probably deadly too.

But that intrigue hits her, ignites a tiny spark in her chest that has her longing to learn more.  The intensity tells her that if he weren’t this curse, that perhaps if he was just a man, she might humor him in the way he was looking for.

If she began the what if game now, she feared she’d find herself justifying her continuation of this conversation.

“You must have me confused, then” 

Her words are clear and concise without being loud.

“I haven’t confused you in any century before this one and I would never confuse you in the ones to come after,” 

She tries to hide the surprise in her expression, but she knows she fails.  Especially when Sukuna’s amusement in her reaction seems more genuine than before.  He takes a step into the room, just a single one.

“Your brat friend is fine.  He fell asleep.  We have a sort of… deal,” 

There is some comfort in his words, even if (y/n) is unsure about her trust in him, the words still hit her chest and her shoulders slowly begin to untense.  She doesn’t question him, doesn’t make any comment at all.  She supposes he’ll fill the silence eventually, and her assumption is correct.

“You and I have known each other for quite some time,” He continues.  “Long ago, you made a Binding Vow to me.  A vow that allowed your mortal body to be reborn in every lifetime, so that I may find you” 

Her brows furrow, hardly believing this to be the truth.  She’s supposed to believe a Binding Vow could hold the power to reincarnate her? A quiet scoff blows past her lips.

“Incredible,” She murmurs, but it’s clear her astonishment isn’t enthusiastic.  It’s cynical.  “What sort of entertainment do you really gain from this?” 

She asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she dares a few steps forward.  She’s not all that close to him, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter her distance from Sukuna, the radius of his danger could stretch for miles.

“You never believe me right away” He muses, his hands folding behind his back as he regards her curiously.  It makes her feel like a specimen, like a wild animal he’s just stumbled upon, but she doesn’t shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“Would you?”

It’s not the response he’s expecting, but his eyes light up with a flicker of excitement.

“Of course not,” He answers, his lips beginning to curl into a smile.  It should send a chill down her spine, but she takes another step forward and tilts her chin up higher.  So foolish, he thinks with an air of loveliness wrapped around it, don’t you see that the mere fact I let you live for behaving like this must mean there’s some truth in my words? Instead, he tells her “Yet, you fall every time”

“I fall for the trick?” She snaps, but her intrigue remains.

“You fall for me” He clarifies, a finality in his tone that has her shutting up, albeit momentarily.

No, she must’ve been right, it was all some grand trick.  Some ridiculous, theatrical ploy he’d come up with just to deceive her.  She’s not sure of the why yet- if he wanted to kill her, couldn’t he have done it already? If he wanted to torture her, couldn’t he have chained her up by now? She’s skeptical, but she would hate to admit that some part of her, deep, deep down, considers that he may not be lying to her.

Of course he must be lying, so she tries to shove that idea down.

“And why would I do such a thing like that?” She asks, her tone bored, but the wideness in her eyes as she awaited his answer didn’t go unnoticed.  

Sukuna unfolded his hands in order to push them into the pockets of Yuji’s pants.  His grievance in wearing a sorcerer’s uniform was obvious in the unsavory curl in his lips as he briefly glanced down at himself, but his attention returned to her just as quickly.

“A Binding Vow is a double sided contract,” He reminds her.  “You entered it willingly,” He tilts his head at her as he watches her process this information, before he tells her the full truth.  “In fact, you were the one who brought the idea to me, sweetheart” 

“Don’t call me that” She mutters out quickly, not thinking twice about the consequences of scolding the King of Curses.

“It’s true,” Sukuna shrugs his shoulders with a lazy drag.  “I almost didn’t agree to it.  But you’ve always been… convincing” 

She’s not sure what he means, because the memories he’s recalling aren’t shared- if they’re real memories at all- and yet, she continues to lay her questions on thick.

“And why wouldn’t I choose to remember all of this then, hm? If I chose to be reborn, over and over, why wouldn’t I have wanted to remember?” She’s challenging him, and Sukuna’s enjoying it, even if it means that right now the distance she puts between them is further than before he’d found her due to her distrust in him.

History has repeated itself for thousands of years, but no event was as perfectly cyclical as she was to him.  Time and time again he would find her, and in every lifetime, she’d been his.

“You wanted to,” He tells her.  “The vow took a bit of a different turn than expected.  See, your soul didn’t simply leap into a pre-existing person with each reincarnate.  You were born again.  Every part of your being, physical and… otherwise, was reborn.  It actually makes it all the more difficult to find you, you know” 

“Seems like a copout” She says, her expression unamused.

“Well go on then, what else do you want to ask me?”

“I have nothing,” She lies.  “Because I’m not entertaining this any further” 

“Fine, then,” To her surprise, Sukuna actually accepts her rejection- if you could call it that.  “I’ll give the brat his body back.  But you’ll know where to find me once you start to remember” 

He leaves without a word, not even a mere wave, and it’s not until he’s gone that (y/n) wonders if she should be worried about him roaming the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, but nothing happens.

In fact it’s such a quiet night that the next morning everyone seems well rested and rejuvenated, all in good spirits and ready to take on the day.  Everyone but her.  And she can’t stop her eyes from shifting towards Yuji every thirty seconds, always double checking the slits under his eyes, as if one of these times she’d find them open and focused on her.

She can’t get the image of Sukuna lounging so casually in that training room.  It’s hard when one of her closest friends shares his face, so even when she’s not anxious about seeing that second set of eyes, her heart still skips a beat when Yuji’s eyes catch hers and he smiles politely.

Naturally, that skip in her heart was due to her nerves, and had nothing to do with the contents of her discussion with the curse inside of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sukuna gives (y/n) what he believes to be an abundant amount of time to let their past settle in.  He wants her to process it all properly.  He wants her to come to her senses and realize that there were no ulterior motives in his reveal.

He still makes the occasional crude comment from Yuji’s cheek, but while they’re ever directed at her, she finds her posture straightening and her eyes trained on the skin where he’s materialized, always waiting for him to direct something her way.  He doesn’t.  He hardly even looks at her- when she’s looking, that is.  While inside of his domain and perfectly hidden by Itadori Yuji, Sukuna spends as much of his time staring at her while he can.  Some days, there’s an intensity so strong that Yuji finds himself not-so-subtly staring at her too.  Sukuna doesn’t like this- if he had things his way then no one would lay there eyes on what was his- but letting Yuji sneak glances here and there was a small price to pay in order to make sure the pair remain close enough that Sukuna’s still able to have some sense of nearness to her.

Due to this silent period on his part, (y/n) decides against bringing Gojo’s attention to the situation.  While she knows it hasn’t just disappeared, because she just knows that it will be brought up again, she hopes that enough time passes that she can learn to brush it off as nonsense spewed from a bored curse.

It nags at her, despite her best efforts, she never allows herself to forget it completely.  It crosses her mind every day, if not every minute she spends with Yuji.  The way he stood, the way he spoke, it would play on a loop in her mind until she was sure it would drive her to the point of madness.  It very well could have, already.

And one night, she decides to take the reins into her own hands, and she approaches it first.

After watching a partial movie in the common room, Megumi had long gone to bed and Nobara had crashed on a makeshift pile of blankets on the floor, (y/n) feels an anxiousness settle over her when she hears Yuji begin to snore and he, too, was just as knocked out as the rest of her friends.

She debates on it for a moment, her eyes sliding between the flickering television and the resting boy sitting beside her on the couch.  Her index finger taps at an unkept pace against her knee, and she lets as many minutes pass as she could, just to be sure Yuji truly was asleep.

Then she turned her head fully, eyes focused on that mark under his face where Sukuna’s eyes were peacefully shut.  Not sure of the inner workings on how the whole vessel thing worked, her only choice was to take a shot in the dark and hope it worked.

“I was going to tell Gojo about what you said, you know” 

Her whisper is so soft, her voice cracks and gives on certain syllables.  Even if he could hear her from in there, she wonders if he could have heard something so silently spoken.

Slowly, the eye opens, and it blinks a few times before it slides towards her.  She wonders if he sleeps in there, or if every introduction light when he leaves his domain requires an adjustment.

And then, Yuij’s stirs, and (y/n) freezes up, watching as he twitches before his eyes begin to blink awake, as well.  Fear spikes in her chest at the thought of getting caught talking to the curse inside of him while he slept.

But when his eyes fully open and an array of markings begin to paint across his features, she realizes it’s not Yuji.  It’s just his body.  There’s a certain guilt that follows her relief from this.  In no situation should she feel pleased to see Sukuna over Yuji.

“Am I supposed to be threatened by this?” He asks slowly, in a low tone of voice that she can’t decide the cause of.  Was he trying to be considerate of the sleeping sorcerer on the ground? Or was he just trying to be as menacing and mysterious as always? 

He doesn’t lift his head from where Yuji had been dozed off against the couch cushion, neck craned at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in for the entire night, but Sukuna’s not exactly looking out for the brat’s comfort.  He could use a good crick in the neck or two.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could do to threaten you,” (y/n) replies honestly, the hush in her voice making her sound softer than she would’ve liked.  She doesn’t need him thinking she’s warming up to being in his presence, after all.  “But… would you kill me if I was?” 

“What do you think?” 

It comes out fast enough to be taken harshly, like he holds a disbelief in how idiotic she could be, but their conversation began with a whisper and it seems to be carried on that way.  A lump forms in (y/n’s) throat as she holds eye contact with the darkened vermillion ones that stare back at hers.

The deep feeling she’d buried, the one that told her maybe she trusted him whether she liked it or not, sparked and caught light, burned just a little bit brighter, caused just enough smoke for her to give some of her attention to.

If he truly wanted to kill her, he had millions of chances to do so before now.  So she concludes that his goal wasn’t to do so.  Of course, this begs the question,

“What is it that you want, Sukuna?” 

She’s much calmer than the last time they spoke, he notices.  She’s nervous, but not tense, and not nearly as defensive.  He’s not naive, he doesn’t mistake this for trust, but he is pleased in her change in attitude.

An idle smile curls on his lips as his fixed gaze softens with familiarity.

Just like every time before now, she always, eventually, came around to him.  It was like her curiosity couldn’t keep her away, and her heart always won over her mind.

“I believe you already know the answer to that” He refrains from letting an old pet name fall from his tongue, a courtesy to her that he allows this once, just so she wouldn’t flee from her seat next to him.

She hums, letting the sort-of-answer sit on her mind for a moment.  An unknown feeling gnaws at her- or at least, a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to.

“Why?” The word ghosts off of her lips, and even with the worried knot between her brows her eyes stay set on his.  “Why does it have to be me?” 

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Sukuna muses, his lower set of eyes rolling just slightly before he can help it.  “It doesn’t have to be you- it just is.  It’s always been you, and it always will be” 

“Because of the Binding Vow?” She questions, and he blinks at her, processing what she meant, before his brows furrow just a little bit, and he shakes his head.

“The only clause to our vow is that you will always be reborn,” His tongue runs over his teeth as he tries to bite back the amusement he feels when realization dawns on her.  “Everything after that comes from your own free will, sweetheart” 

“Don’t call me that” She snaps at him, but it’s a mumble, hardly audible, hardly threatening.  Sukuna purses his lips.

“Like I said, you were the one who came up with the contract,” He huffs.  “I would’ve never agreed to such a thing if you weren’t so persistent” 

She perks up at that little comment, and suddenly turns in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she faces him.  Sukuna’s barely moved at all, still slouched into the cushion in the position Yuji had fallen asleep in.  His eyes follow her movements as she sets her elbow on the top of the furniture so she could prop her head in her hand.  Her brows are drawn together again as she studies him.

“Then why tell me about it?” She blurts the question out.

“Because I’m the one burdened with the centuries of memories” He replies without missing a beat, voice dry and expression unreadable.  He’s keeping it as neutral as possible, knowing her calculating eyes would see right through any sudden change, no matter how small.

“And you are?” She asks, and then in a softer voice, finishes the thought, “Burdened?” 

Sukuna blinks, slowly, before letting his gaze wander the soft and curious look on her face.  He fights the urge to smile at the loveliness of it all- the twitch in her nose, the small pout in her lip- he’s the King of Curses and there should be no force on this earth that weakens him the way her gentle gaze focused on him does.  Even after all this time, she is his achilles heel, she is his greatest burden, and she is the only thing he could ever truly, completely, want.

“Yes,” His answer is quiet, and (y/n) lifts her head as she stares at him with her confusion.  “There exists no stronger shackles a being could trap me with the way you have,”

Her face falls, and she’s silent for a long moment.  With a dry throat and a mind too busy and overcrowded with thoughts, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say.  But that gnawing feeling was starting to make her chest ache, and the pounding of her heart in her ribcage was relentless.

“There’s no greater curse I could bear” 

She hates the way he says these things so casually, without a strain in his expression or voice.  She wonders if it’s because he’s done it so many times that it’s lost it’s value.  Perhaps to him, this was just a part of the burden that was her existence, explaining these things to her was simply a chore that needed to be completed.  She swallows a few times to ease the dryness of her throat.

“Does it get old?” 

Sukuna smiles.  It should trouble her- he knows that it unsettles Yuji- but if she feels unease it’s not shown.

“A thousand years of anything gets old,” He sighs, rolling his head over the cushion to stare up at the blank ceiling.  “And I’d hate to admit the things that never get old” 

It’s stupid.  It’s ridiculous and foolish and naive, but she smiles.

“What doesn’t get old?” She asks, her curiosity blending with a sick sense of delight as she wonders just how many sides of Sukuna there really are.

He angles his head towards her again, narrowing his gaze as his lips twisted into a small smirk.  It felt like his technique had the ability to see right through her- she wondered if he was really strong enough to do that.

“Last time we spoke, you said you wouldn’t entertain this,” He reminds her.  “What’s changed?” 

“Nothing,” She murmurs back without a moment of hesitation.  

It’s the truth, and she has no reason to falsify an answer for him.  Just as he had no reason to be so forward about their past.  Even if she hadn’t gathered much, this conversation was much different from their last, and she felt as though she would walk away with this one overwhelmed by all of this new information.  Her trust in him is precarious, and could easily be destroyed by one wrong move, but right now, she can’t see what reason she has not to take him at his word.  It’s not as if he’s asking for anything in return, it’s not as if she won’t return to her dorm for the night and likely not see or speak to him again for some time.  So, she supposed, what was the harm in entertaining the idea just a little?

“Nothing at all” She finishes the thought softly, before turning her attention back to the forgotten movie still playing across the room.  It was nearing the end, and she’d missed enough of it to barely understand what was happening on screen now, but she didn’t have any more questions for the King of Curses tonight, and he kept quiet as she watched the movie.

To her surprise, Sukuna did sit and watch the movie.  She’s not sure how much of it he actually listened or paid attention to, but it was clear that he had not given Yuji his body back, and was still very much alert and in control.

(y/n) doesn’t return to her dorm room until she finally sees Yuji asleep next to her, his face bare of any markings, and the extra eyelids under his eyes closed just as peaceful as his own.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

In the meantime, (y/n) didn’t feel so anxious around Yuji anymore, which they were both grateful for.  Yuji wasn’t sure why the sudden chance came about, but he certainly wouldn’t complain.  He was just glad to have his friend acting her usual self again.

He had no idea of the few chats she’d shared with the curse he hosted.  While Sukuna wasn’t necessarily hiding his interest in her, he wasn’t forthright with the brat either.  He didn’t need the kid interfering with what he was building on here.  It was slow moving like a trail of molasses but Sukuna was more patient than most people gave him credit for.  He could let a lot of things go.

Not this, however.

All of Gojo’s students had been sent on a seemingly standard assignment.  Odd, unexplainable disappearances had been happening in a clearing in the middle of the woods, enough so to alert jujutsu society and send a few sorcerers to the scene to investigate.

Upon arrival, there was an undeniable heaviness in the air.  The field that the group of four found themselves in didn’t stretch for miles, but it was no small clearing.  It was a strange place for a curse to settle in and lure non-sorcerers towards.  Curses often tucked themselves into hidden spots, within abandoned buildings or deep in the thick brush of the woods.  Not a clearing of grass and wild daisies.

The entire situation was odd, it didn’t sit right in anyone’s mind as they went their separate ways to scour the area for any insight on what was happening here.  It didn’t take long for something to turn up.

A curse that had to have been a First Grade, with a large, sharp toothed grin and gouged out eyes, materialized in the clearing’s center, and as soon as it clocked this evening’s prey as jujutsu sorcerers, it seemed to go into a mad state.  (y/n’s) not sure if it possesses great speed or the ability to teleport when it’s suddenly before her.  All she’s able to do in that amount of time is lift her weapon into an offensive position, she’s not even given the time to drive it forward in an attack before suddenly, she’s no longer on the ground.

She comes to mid air, just before she hits the ground and rolls a few times before her senses kick in and her hands brace themselves against the ground.  She can faintly hear her friends calling for her in their shock, but it’s distant.  Her head is spinning too fast for her to lift it to see just how far the curse had thrown her.

A few coughs erupt from her throat before she even tells her body to do so, brought on by the hit to her chest once she’s lifted herself up enough to relieve the pressure from the ground.  Her arms are trembling from the adrenaline and a few drops of blood splatter from her mouth, but once she’s sat up enough, she drags the sleeve of her uniform over her mouth to dry the blood, and she finally gets a good look at where she is.

She’s been thrown clear out of the field, and she considers herself lucky that her body hadn’t been halted by a tree, and instead tumbled to the ground.  Being thrown directly into one of the large oaks she’s surrounded by could’ve been fatal if she’d hit it just right, or at the very least she could’ve broken her ankle.  With a rushed assessment she decides nothing feels broken, and therefore she can grab her weapon and- 

Her weapon is nowhere near her.  She scrambles to her feet, her breaths heavy and irregular as she searches around the grass, looking for the large blade she’d had in her hands less than a minute ago.  

It had only been a minute, right? She hadn’t blacked out, had she?

Realizing there was no use wasting her time looking for a weapon now, she pushes herself to break into a sprint back towards the clearing.  Her friends are blurry images moving about, trying to attack the larger blurry images that fends off their attacks with little struggle.  She concludes this when she begins to hear the yelps and grunts of her fellow sorcerers, and yet the curse doesn’t seem to struggle at all.

Just when her vision begins to clear and she’s preparing herself to rejoin the fight with only her cursed technique and her fists, she sees the curse grab Megumi by the leg, and soon after he’s getting thrown into the air just as she did.  His name is torn from her raw throat in an instant- but Megumi is more prepared to be airborne than she was, drawing his hands together to summon Nue to catch him.

Relief is short lived, and soon Megumi finds himself instructing Nue to catch Nobara and Yuji when shortly after, they’re being thrown as well.  Nue’s a quick shikigami, but it’s only strong enough to carry one person at a time before it’s energy starts to deplete, and the curse keeps at it’s movements, chuckling the three of them into the air before they can land an attack on them on their decline.  Yuji tries, using Black Flash on his descent in the hopes of striking it where it hurts, but the curse manages to catch him in a tight fist before chucking him again.

(y/n’s) still keeping an eye out for her weapon when she grows nearer to the fight, seeing as no one else’s techniques have caused any real damage yet, her cursed tool of a sword could be quite handy right about now.

She was hoping that with it’s attention focused on the other three, she could attack it from behind, and drive it more towards the clearing again.  With how much movement and tossing it had done, it had driven them all deeper into the woods, which made it harder to land attacks, but had been good coverage for (y/n) to sneak up in her approach.

To her disadvantage, she hadn’t expected there to be a pair of large eyes on the back of it’s head.  In the dark of the night she hadn’t noticed them until they’d opened and landed on her instantaneously.  It must’ve sensed her sneaking around behind it.

She’s quicker in her movements this time, dodging it’s large hand before it could grab onto her, but it outsmarts her and snatches her up in the other.  A yelp sounds from her when it squeezes harder than the last time, her air supply cut off just as she’d tried to take in a large breath, making her sputter and cough as it raised her in the air again.  A sense of dread and failure washes over her when she realizes it’s going to throw her again.  Whatever this curse’s deal was, it had a thing for throwing it’s victims around to torture them.

And torture it was- as this time when she’s launched into the air, it’s a clear throw over the trees.  It’s harder than before, and faster.  The cool air cuts over her face in sharp streams, bringing tears to her eyes before she could comprehend what would come of her fall.  She could brace herself, but as she gets a watery glance at what’s below, she knows that shielding her face would provide no comfort to her fall.

Just past the cluster of oak trees is a steep overhang.  Rock and the roots of old trees jutting out some thirty feet to the ground.  

This is why her fall felt so long.  A sharp gasp escapes her, and when her inhale gets caught in her throat, she wonders if this is the last breath she’ll ever take.

When she shuts her eyes to protect them from the harsh wind, a wetness spreads down her cheeks.  In a last ditch effort at self preservation, her arms brace over her face, and she buries herself into them, not wanting to see the last thing that would break her fall.  Hopefully she wouldn’t feel it, either.

Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart began to race faster, expecting the crash to come soon.

The sensation isn’t as expected.  There is no slam against stone or cold ground that knocks the wind out of her.  Instead something’s wrapped around her middle, and out of worry that the curse had grabbed her in order to throw her again, she withdraws her head from her arms in a jolt.

It’s not the curse that’s caught her mid-fall.

It’s Sukuna.

With one arm wrapped around her back and the other around her shoulders, his large hand braces the back of her head to keep her tucked close.  They’re still falling, but the sensation feels different like this.  It’s almost as if he’s carrying her to the ground, his posture as natural as it would be if he were standing there now.

Wide, watery eyes blink up at him in astonishment when she fully registers what was happening.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you, sweetheart” 

If it weren’t for the rawness in her throat, she might’ve scolded him for the pet name, but her voice was taken away from her as soon as she’d been heaved into the sky a second time.

She doesn’t even process the way she’s gripping onto him until he lands on the ground, holding her up just a moment longer before carefully setting her on her feet.  Her hands are holding onto the sleeves of Yuji’s uniform in fists so tight her knuckles are white, and her hands are trembling.

The others are nowhere in sight, or at least, she can’t see them right now.  Her mind is so shaken up she doesn’t actually look.  Her eyes don’t tear away from the stunning red of Sukuna’s once.  She doesn’t even blink- hence the continued downpour of tears.  From the wind and her acceptance of a brutal death, her emotions were slowly catching up to reality.

Her chest is heaving but there’s no relief in feeling like she’s caught her breath.  Her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her ribs ache, but that very well could be the bruising from her previous fall setting in.  Her mouth moves but it takes a few tries for any real words to come out, and when her voice does come back to her, she doesn’t say much.

“S- Sukuna-” 

He silences her before she could even try to say something else.  Prying her hands off of his arms and placing them at her sides, even though there’s still tremors in her muscles.

“I only have a minute,” He tells her, in a gravely serious tone that she’s never heard from him before.  She blinks her wide eyes, leftover tears getting stuck on her lashes.  “It’s been handled” 

He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t get the chance to before his posture begins to weaken, followed by his eyelids twitching and the marks beginning to fade away.

Gasping, (y/n) surges forward, grabbing Yuji by the shoulders before he could stumble and fall.  His eyes roll and blink a few times before he feels in control of his body again.  Soon after his posture straightens, and then it’s Yuji who’s looking worriedly down at (y/n).

She’s close, very close.  Her hands are gripping onto his shoulders for dear life.  He can feel her panting against his chin as her worried eyes scan over his features.

Yuji’s disoriented, like maybe he’s just woken up from a dream, or maybe he’s just woken up inside of a dream, and he’s not exactly sure how to voice this concern.  She makes it harder on him when one of her hands leaves his shoulder in order to reach for his cheek.

It’s so affectionate, the way she reaches for his face and presses her palm against it, that Yuji finds his skin heating up and a blush appearing over his cheeks before he could will himself not to.  She’s never behaved this way with him before.  He could only recall casual touches that occurred during training, or maybe a brush of her fingers when she handed him something, but nothing as intentional as this.  

And she’s certainly never looked at him like that either.  He can’t place his finger on it, but it makes his stomach churn to meet her eyes.

“Uh, (y/n)?” He mumbles out her name, and he finds himself doing a quick sweep of her, assessing her for a major injury.  But she’s standing just fine, and he can’t see any blood.  This had to be a head injury, right? 

He asks himself that question once more then the pad of her thumb brushes under his eye.  She faintly traces the incision of the closed eyelid just below his eyelashes.  Yuji holds his breath, but he’s not sure who he’s doing it for.  (y/n), whose eyes are glossing over as she’s gazing at the wrong eyes, which remained closed, or Sukuna, who Yuji was sure she was trying to reach to now.

And then she leans even closer, and the breath he’d been holding is forced out of him from the closing distance between them.  Her hands remain where they are, on his shoulder with an iron grip and against his cheek with the gentleness of a butterfly landing there.

On instinct Yuji finds his eyes darting down to her lips, but he’s positive she’s not going to kiss him- right? She wouldn’t do such a thing on a whim, not like this, not now when they’ve barely completed their assignment.  Not to mention their friends aren’t too far away- where are Nobara and Megumi anyways? Yuji’s thoughts are racing as fast as his heart as he struggles to figure out what to do as she grows nearer.

Before he has to come up with a decision, (y/n) stops, and Yuji swallows the lump in his throat out of relief that she wasn’t leaning in to kiss him.  The ride home would have been so awkward.

“Thank you” She breathes out the words, her thumb stroking over the spot on his cheek one more time before she finally drops her hand, and she pulls away from Yuji completely.

He blinks at her in disbelief, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down, which it does the further she steps away.

“What happened?” He asks, louder than he means to, but when he finally collects his thoughts and processes what just happened, he can’t help but blurt out the question.

The pair begin to make their way back to the clearing, both realizing that the First Grade curse was gone, clearly exorcized with the amount of purple goo coating the surrounding plants and trees.  They don’t discuss it right away, but they both have an inkling on how it was taken care of.

“Sukuna saved my life” 

Yuji wants to ask more questions, but when he turns towards her to do so, he can tell that she’s not ready to talk about it.  Her features had hardened, and she didn’t meet his eyes as they walked.

He knows he’s put off this conversation one too many times already… but once again he finds himself biting his tongue as they catch up with their other friends.

Something tells him that he’ll have to bring it up soon, though.  Because the King of Curses wouldn’t save just anyone’s life twice- much less a sorcerer.  And he has a gut feeling that (y/n) knows more than she’s letting on.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This time, it’s only a few days since the last assignment when (y/n) crosses paths with Sukuna again.  Well, this time around, he came to her.

She’s just slid her bookmark between the pages she’d decided to pause on tonight when there’s a knock at her door.  With a quiet huff- she was just about to go to sleep after all- but before she can call for her visitor to come in, the door slides open and he’s inviting himself right on.

“Yu-! Sukuna?” 

The initial scolding tone she takes drops as soon as she realizes he’s not who she thought.  Her voice softens around his name in a way that it shouldn’t, but that she can’t help.  She sits up a little further in her bed, brows furrowing as he slides the door shut behind him.

“You can’t just walk in here” 

“I knocked” 

“Okay well… well you have to wait for me to actually invite you in” She mumbles out, only to be met with a scoff and a humorless chuckle.  But when her frown deepens, he sighs.

“Fine, I’ll knock for longer next time” He grunts, before he begins to wander around her room.  He glances over the few things littered on her desk- a picture frame of her and her friends, an open and neglected textbook, a pair of bracelets she’d forgotten to put away- he almost forgets why he’d come in to begin with.

“Um… did you need something?” (y/n) asks after a minute of him wandering around and eyeing all of her things.

“You’re freaking out the brat,” Sukuna says casually, picking up a little porcelain cat on her shelf.  His eyes narrow as he turns the small thing around in his hands, as if trying to decipher it’s purpose.  “He won’t stop asking about you now” 

“What?” (y/n) pushes the covers off her lap, moving to the end of the bed to sit a little closer to him.  It doesn’t matter if she’s quiet, it’s only the two of them in the room, but she feels a sudden need to lower her voice anyways.  “What do you mean he’s freaking out?” 

He turns to her then, the figurine still in his hands.  The tiniest of smiles purses on her lips at how silly a tiny cat looks in his large and tattooed hands.  Despite how easily he could crush it to dust, his hold on it is gentle.

“I just thought that you should be aware, you know, that eventually you’ll have to decide if you want to explain yourself to your friends or not” 

Her stomach twists and turns into dozens of little knots.  The King of Curses was stopping by her room late into the night just for this? She shouldn’t be surprised, because she knew his motives, but still, she blinked at him with wide eyes.

“You haven’t…?” The question trails off as she shakes her head at him, unsure of how to word it just right.

“I don’t like the idea of the brat knowing all of my business,” Sukuna hums, finally setting the cat back down on her shelf.  “You’ve always had a knack for collecting useless things” He comments, and the words are harsh but his tone is nothing but amused.

“So… you think I should talk to Yuji?” She asks, and Sukuna lets his shoulders rise and fall in disinterest.

“If that’s what you want” He says, but it doesn’t feel considerate.  (y/n) frowns.

“Don’t you think he’ll be… upset?” 

“With you?” 

She nods.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.  If anything, the brat would only worry about you.  Seeing as he despises me, and all” 

“You don’t exactly make it easy to feel otherwise” (y/n) mumbles, and her words hang in the air for a few long moments.  She’s not sure if she means the insinuation behind them or if it’s just a coincidence, but she doesn’t try to backtrack to explain herself.

“Yes, well, he certainly cares more for you than he does for me.  Too much so.  Some boundaries might do you some good, you know” 

“Boundaries?”

“Yes, boundaries.  He almost kissed you” 

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head before her brows furrow and she scoffs in disbelief.

“What? What are you even talking about?” 

Sukuna tucks his hands into his pockets, looking all the more out of place in her room at this hour.

“During your little gratitude session on your last assignment,” He says, his lips curling into a deep frown.  “You got a bit too close and his brat-mind went a bit haywire.  You don’t need to be so affectionate with him, you know.  A plain thank you would have sufficed-” 

“I wasn’t being affectionate with him,” She snaps back, and Sukuna raises a brow at the display.  “I was thanking you, asshole.  You pretty much saved my life?” She says it like she’s trying to jog his memory.  “I wasn’t trying to make a move on Yuji, and I’m sure he knew that too.  I don’t control his thoughts, he can think whatever he wants, doesn’t mean it’s happening” 

Sukuna steps closer to where she sat before bending down to match her height.  She’s still frowning, clearly annoyed with this interaction, but she had yet to ask him to leave, and he has a feeling she won’t.

“So if the brat had plucked up the nerve to make a move, you would’ve pushed him away?” He asks, and he’s smirking, almost as if he wants her to say otherwise.  Her eyes narrow, not understanding what his mind games were getting at this time.

“Politely, yes,” She answers, shaking her head at him.  “Why does this matter? Last I checked, in this lifetime, I’m not some cowering wife for you to boss around” 

Sukuna laughs at that, genuinely laughs.  He stands back up to his full height and throws his head back and cackles so loud that (y/n) can only pray Nobara doesn’t wake up from next door.  She might not need to whisper to speak with him, but the walls weren’t exactly soundproof either.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been a cowering wife,” He tells her once his laughter died down.  “A wife, perhaps, but never some submissive weak minded mortal” He adds.

“So we have been married?” 

She asks him with such peculiarity, and it makes him chuckle again.  She sounds as though this has been the strangest thing he’s revealed thus far, and he can’t help but find humor in it.

“We have” He answers.

(y/n) shifts her position, pulling her legs towards her chest and staring up at him expectantly, waiting for a continuation that wouldn’t come.  Sukuna merely stares at her with mild confusion.

“Well?” She asks, tilting her head forward.  “Did we get married every time?” 

He smirks.

“I’ve told you that you created a Binding Vow in order to be with me across centuries of eras.  In the grand scheme of things, don’t you think marriage is a little… bleak?” 

(y/n) shrugs a shoulder, resting her arms atop her knees as she gazes back at him curiously.

“It’s bleak in this lifetime,” She murmurs back.  “Not to me, at least” 

Sukuna hums, before shaking his head.

“You never change” 

“Do I really?” She presses again.  “For the last… thousand years… am I really the same?” 

Sukuna ponders for a moment.  This was a common question of hers, and each time, he struggled to answer it.

“You really want to know?” 

She doesn’t say anything, but she pats her hand against the space on the bed next to her.  Sukuna’s gaze shifts to it momentarily, before looking back at her.  After a moment, he takes a seat.

“You are almost completely the same in every lifetime I’ve found you in,” He explains.  “You’re always stubborn, you never make it easy.  But you always… come around,” He turns to her.  “Like now” 

“You think I’m coming around?” She asks, a skeptical look in her eye that makes him smirk.  He leans forward as though the next part he shares is a grave secret.

“You never want to admit it, but you always have a soft spot for me” 

(y/n) raises a brow back at him in defiance.

“I think you’ve got that turned around,” She murmurs.  “I think the King of Curses has a soft spot for me.  And I think he’s making it everyone’s problem” 

He chuckles quietly, his gaze sweeping over the gentle features of her face.

“I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory,” He tells her, raising a hand, and gently pressing the pad of his thumb against the center of her forehead.  The sudden touch makes her freeze at first, but eventually she relaxes as the rest of his fingers lay in her hair.  “I haven’t quite figured it out yet, I don’t know how it is that you’re never able to keep your memories,” He tilts his head as he ponders it for a moment, his eyes focused on where he’s touched her head.  “But I think deep down, you know that you trust me” 

(y/n) doesn’t have a witty comeback for that one.  She’s still reeling from the warmth of his touch, and the weight of his words.  But she feels obligated to say something when his gaze met hers again.

“I never said I believed you in all this, you know” She whispers weakly.

“You don’t believe me?” He murmurs back at her, his voice a low rumble as his hand starts to fall from her head.  He doesn’t remove his touch, he lets the back of his finger trace along her temple, before slowly moving down her jaw.  Sukuna doesn’t seem displeased in her words.  If anything, he seems intrigued by them.  “You know, you almost look the same in every life, too” 

“I do?” She asks, just as his fingers fall still against her cheek.

Sukuna hums, and nods his head.

“The last I saw you, your hair was different,” He tells her.  “It was longer, to about… here,” With his free hand, he gently touches her waist, and the way she tenses doesn’t go unnoticed.  “You would wear it in all sorts of different styles.  Pretty braids and… whatever our servants would desire to do that day,” Her eyes widen at his use of the word servants, but Sukuna glides over it.  “But that was a few hundred years ago, of course.  It would all be outdated now,” He drops his hand from her waist, but the other remains against her cheek, his touch ghosting over it.  “Not that it wouldn’t still be exquisite” 

Her eyes shift between his, trying to decipher the emotion they hold.  She can’t tell if he’s amused or sorrowful.  Was he disappointed that she couldn’t remember?

“This is why I’m the one who doesn’t believe you” He murmurs after a few beats pass.

(y/n’s) brows draw together just slightly, just enough to pinch the skin between them.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her voice betraying her as it shakes just a little.

“Because you look at me like that” He says, nodding at her slightly.

(y/n) blinks, doe eyes resembling the glass of the porcelain cat he’d just been mocking.  Her lips are parted, formed in the smallest of pouts as she gazes up at him, that look unrelenting.

She tilts forward, her gaze flickering over his face leisurely, mapping out the black markings, and all the small details that make him so different from Yuji.  The way he insists on pushing the bangs out of his face, the broader jaw, the sharper canine that she only notices when he laughs or smiles- which is quite rare.  She’s admiring him so openly that Sukuna’s not sure what to do under such heavy surveillance, so he just sits there and allows her to stare.

But eventually, she sighs, and drops her legs from her chest before she crawls across her bed, moving to get under the covers again.  Sukuna remains in his spot at the end, watching her without an expression as she settles into her pillow.

“Does it disturb Yuji’s rest when you take over like this?” She asks quietly as she presses her cheek into the soft comfort of her pillow.

No, the brat’s completely dozed off, that’s why he could take over like this.  It’s what he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll be sure it doesn’t” He says as he stands, and walks around the bed, facing the side she’s just moved to.  He crouches down to meet her eye level again, and (y/n) moves a little closer to the edge towards him.

“Okay, good,” She whispers.

She blames her exhaustion when she reaches out to him, the tips of her fingers barely prodding at the dark ink that follows the sharp curve of his jaw.  Her eyes follow it as she traces it down to his chin, almost painfully slow.  It takes every ounce of restraint for him not to lean into the touch.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Sukuna,” She murmurs, her fingers lingering on his chin, her eyes slowly meeting his.  “I… I can’t…” 

She can’t even say the words.  She hardly wants to be thinking about them.  But Sukuna knows her better than anyone who’s ever walked this earth, and he nods back at her in understanding before she could try to finish the thought.

“I’ve never expected anything of you,” He murmurs, before reaching up to pull her hand from his face, gently closing his fingers around her own as he moves it away.  “You have been the greatest love of my life whether you’re able to remember or not,” He tells her, and she listens to him with her full attention.  “And whether you believe me or not, you still will be,”

There’s the smallest of squeezes to her hand with his words, and a lump begins to build up in her throat.

“You can ask more questions another time, alright? You should get some sleep, sweetheart” 

She gives him a faint nod, her eyes already feeling too heavy to keep open when she feels her blanket being dragged over her shoulders.  Distantly, her mind registers that the King of Curses is tucking her into bed, but she’s too tired now to comment on it.

There’s another squeeze to her fingers, followed by a hesitation, and then the soft, unmistakable pair to two lips pressing against her knuckles.  It’s not a lingering kiss, and it’s featherlight, over as soon as it began, and again, (y/n) keeps her eyes shut and doesn’t say anything.

Sukuna lays her hand down against her blanket with the gentleness of maneuvering a newborn.  She hears him walking away towards her door.

“Goodnight, Sukuna” 

It’s the softest call, but it’s enough to make him pause at the door and glance back at her.  She still can’t look at him- she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears if she does, although she can’t quite explain the heavy emotion that’s bringing the tears to her eyes to begin with.

“Goodnight, my love” 

It’s murmured so quickly before he’s hastily exiting her room that she could’ve missed it altogether, but she doesn’t.  Her hand curls into her sheets as she pulls it close to her chest as she lets tonight’s conversation sink into her mind.

The truth was, she did trust him.  She did believe him.  And she was pretty sure this was the case for the entire time she’s known him.  She’s pretty sure this was unavoidable.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everything’s blurry when she first comes to.

And everything hurts.

She tries to move, but it only results in a strangled whine being pulled from her throat as soon as she tries.

She’s on the ground.  It’s covered in rubble.  There’s glass pricking her arms- or maybe the gravel was just that sharp.  There’s a warmth pooling under the side she’s laying on.  Likely blood.

Another groan when she at least tries to get on her back in order to assess the bleeding wound on her left side, but just as she’s about to roll her body weight, she catches something in her vision.

Yuji?

He’s slumped over against a wall, and he looks no better than she feels.  Covered in bruises and blood that may or may not be his own- whatever went down was ugly.

She blinks a few times to focus her vision a little better.  She tries to call for him but her throat is raw and all that comes out is another whine.  Either way, he’s clearly passed out and wouldn’t have responded.  The fight must’ve taken everything out of him.

Oh, the fight, it slowly starts coming back to her in flashing images.  That Blood Manipulation Guy.  He was rough.  She’s not sure how they got out of it alive- she’s not sure how they got to this point at all.  Her mind’s still foggy and the only thing that’s easy to focus on is the shooting pains in her body.

That is, until there’s the sound of clicking heels and hushed, feminine voices.  (y/n) hadn’t even realized her eyes had slipped shut again until those two appeared, and she peeks her eyes open to see two girls whispering between themselves as they crouch before Yuji’s body.

They look harmless enough, no older than her, and not to mention they look anxious.  So nothing about her blurry assumptions about them triggered any warning flags.

That was, until they pulled out a bag of fingers.  Unmistakable fingers.

She needs to get up now and she knows it.  She pleads with her body to move, wishing the throbbing hot pain in her left leg would disappear just long enough for her to get to Yuji, to stop these girls from what they’re about to do.

It’s unclear how much time lapses before she notices a third figure at Yuji’s body.  A curse.  And he seems to have a few fingers of his own, too.

No, her voice cries, but it’s only in her head.  You can’t do that.

She’s never felt so weak, her fingers barely twitching against the concrete when she’s trying to tell her body to get up.  She’s sure that means none of the rest of her limbs are moving.  She’s trapped there.

Her heart is pounding, her breaths are labored, dread consumes her so completely she’d throw up if there was anything left in her stomach.

It’s tough to count just how many fingers are shoved down Yuji’s throat before the curse is clamping his large hand over his mouth and forcing his head back in order to make the unconscious boy swallow every last one.  With tears in her eyes she knows it’s more than what’s safe, and there’s a turmoil in her gut as she doesn’t know how to feel about what comes next.

With her heart pounding in her ears she can’t tell what exactly the fighting amongst the curse users and the curse himself was about, but suddenly only the cycloptic curse remains standing over Yuji’s body.  He’s grunting and growling, still pushing the boy’s head back.  (y/n) wonders if he’s swallowed all those fingers by now.

These three were idiots.  But they were idiots stronger than her, and even if she’d had the strength to stop them, it would’ve been futile.

However, now, they hardly made her list of things to be afraid of in Shibuya.

The blood that’s pooled under Yuji’s body startles her- when did that get there? But after blinking a few times to clear her sight and focus just a fraction of a bit better, she realizes it’s not human blood at all, but that awful purple essence that leaves a stench behind.

“I’ll give you one second,” Comes the familiar voice that doesn’t belong to the body it erupts from.  “Move” 

In a flash, the small crowd around him is a good ten feet back.  (y/n) could almost laugh if her throat wasn’t bloodied raw.  They chose to wake him up with all those fingers, and now they’re visibly afraid of what they summoned themselves? They truly had no idea what they were in for now.

It only takes one glance towards her before Sukuna’s suddenly before her beaten form, crouching down to assess the damages.

“Now, which one of these insolent freaks did this to you?” He asks, tilting his head as his Reverse Cursed Technique took effect over her wounds with haste.  “I’ll start there” 

“N-none of them,” She stammers out, even though it’s the truth.

For the first time, she considers that she should be afraid of Sukuna.  The other three are still trembling even from their distance, barely letting themselves breathe in his presence.

All she’s ever felt towards Sukuna is irritation, perhaps mild vexation, but mostly he just confused her.  But now, she can feel the abundant amount of cursed energy wafting off of him, and despite his history in sparing her life and taking an interest in her, she briefly wonders if this is the moment he changes his mind.

The thought passes in a matter of seconds, when a pair of hands are gently aiding her in sitting upright.  Even with his technique healing her wounds, there are still aches and pains that make her wince.  Shards of glass falling from her skin as the healing tissue forces them out, bruises that still sting when she moves too quickly before their nasty colors disappear completely.

And Sukuna regards her with an expression she’s never seen before, but it makes her heart lurch in her chest.  It’s concern.  His brows are knotted, and his eyes are scanning over her repeatedly to make sure no injury was left on her body.  This was followed by sizable hands mapping over her carefully just to double check.

She should be afraid, but she’s not.  

In fact, as soon as those vermillion eyes return to hers, all she can feel is relief.

And she doesn’t think twice before she’s darting forward on achy knees, her arms wrapping around his neck and the rest of her body colliding into his so harsh it knocks the wind out of her for a moment, but she doesn’t mind panting to catch her breath again.  She embraces Sukuna as tightly as she can, as though he’s the only savior she’s ever known, an angel painted in pure white rather than the corrupted being he truly was.

Sukuna has half a mind to grab her by the neck and remove her from him with a snarl about how her injuries were still healing, but instead he wraps an arm around her, his hand smoothing over the tattered back of her uniform.

She could only imagine what the three at the end of the corridor were thinking, watching the King of Curses embrace such a weak sorcerer.

“You understand now, don’t you sweetheart?” He asks her quietly, and she manages a small nod against his chest, before her hands tighten into fists at the red hood that lies between his shoulder blades.  “It’s been a rough night, hasn’t it?” He muses, and when (y/n) doesn’t give him a response this time, he uses his free hand to pry her face away from his shirt, hooking her chin under his finger so that she’d meet his eyes.

Rough night didn’t even begin to cover what she’d been put through, what was she supposed to say? 

“It’s alright now, my love, I’m here,” 

Those words from him shouldn’t bring her the amount of comfort that they do.  The tears in her eyes begin to drip down her cheeks.  Sukuna’s smiling as he brushes them away, and despite her better judgment, she leans into the touch, seeking out even more comfort.  He chuckles at the sight, but humors her as he cups the side of her face in his palm, cradling her head with the gentleness of holding a flower by it’s petals.

She won’t admit it, not now anyways, but she knows deep down that there is no force on this earth greater than the swell of love in her chest right now.  It’s something she’s not sure should ever be voiced, but she has a feeling that Sukuna will find a way to draw it out of her anyways.  Just as he’s made her trust him, just as he’s made her confide in him, he’s bound to find a way into drawing the confession out of her as well.

Perhaps it’s her own fault, too.  Hiding the way a part of her believed everything he’s ever said to her, hiding the way it made her feel to know that she was so loved by a force so strong and unstoppable that he’d scour the earth after every lifetime in order to find her again.

I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory, he’d said.  But I think deep down, you know that you trust me.

She stares at him now knowing all of this to be true, and Sukuna can almost see every thought in her dilated eyes, swallowed nearly whole by dark pupils as she clings to him now.

With a brush of his lips to the crown of her head, he makes her a promise that she’ll live through this horrid night yet.

She still holds onto him when he stands, and he lifts her up with ease, cradling her to his chest like she was merely a small and frightened child.  The only unease she felt now was knowing what fates were in store for the three at the end of the hall, who Sukuna had set his sights on first.

“Now, let’s take this one on together, sweetheart, shall we?” 

Her own fate was still unknown to her, but sealed in place long ago.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ cause i love to love to love to love you // i hate to hate to hate to hate you ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: thinkin about writing a snippet of their past live(s) or something. i wanted to add something like that to this fic but i wanted the reader to feel unsure if they really could trust him soooo it went a diff route. idk don't hold me to it. i'm just a girl.

[planetkiimchi]

i knew it first | z.cl

"i'm in love, i'm in love, i'm in love with the boy next door." (series masterlist)

featuring: neighbour!chenle x gn!reader, cameos by johnny, winwin, joy, suzy, dokyeom, renjun, jisung, ningning

word count: 15278 words

warnings: a little bit of swearing (i tried to keep it to a minimum), food mentions, some angst bc would it really be my fic if i don't give my characters major issues am i right 🤩

summary — chenle's pretty sure his crush on you is obvious. it's a little stupid, really, just how in love he is with you. but it's even more foolish how you don't seem to realise until he confesses properly. you can lie and say you knew he liked you all along, but he'll stand by the fact that he knew you liked him first.

author's note: happy birthday, my wonderful zanna @slytherinshua <3 thank you for being the most supportive friend EVER, for always being open to doing face quizzes (and for being so patient when i get them wrong), and for always trying to engage everyone in the server or the community. i hope you have the most wonderful month and that you get all the good things you deserve!

At 22, you were accustomed to solitude. Your career path as an actor had started ever since you were a child, and you were one of the few kids on set who didn’t cry when your parents left. Your parents took this as a sign to enrol you in acting classes, and you joined theatre in high school.

By the time you graduated high school, you were performing in musicals locally, often practising with the rest of the crew late into the night. Each run needed to be as perfect as possible, and the pressure could get to your head sometimes, which was when you would take a step back, speak to your friends—especially Winwin—and find your footing before you went back to practising.

You had quite a strong support system within the performers, but outside of them, you didn’t have anyone else.

You moved out of your parents’ house shortly after you turned 22. While it was, in some sense, a financial burden for your family, you and your parents had agreed that it was worth it, especially since your schedule was erratic and you often came home late, disrupting their sleep. It wasn’t like you saw them often anyway, so you all came to the conclusion that it would be better for you to move out.

“Sicheng,” you called, winding through the house with a mug in your hand. “Sicheng, where are you?” Winwin emerged from the living room, phone in hand, his eyebrows raised. “What?” “Oh, I just had a question.” Winwin turned away, taking a seat on the couch and crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “Sit.” Once you were seated, he turned his body to face you, and with a posture of attentiveness, asked, “What’s up?” “Should I have a housewarming party? I don’t know if it’s a good idea, what if the neighbours are my fans and they harass me for the entire time I live here once they find out who I am?” Winwin looked at you curiously. “Okay, wait, slow down. You don’t even like parties.” You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Well, yeah, but—” “No buts. If you don’t want a housewarming party, then just don’t hold one,” Winwin concluded, leaning back into the couch.

“But… It's not that I don’t want to host a housewarming party either. I do want to celebrate having a new house, it’s just…” “Socially exhausting?” Winwin supplied.

“...yeah.” Winwin picked up a pen from the coffee table, spinning it around as he hummed. “What kind of party do you want to have?” “Maybe potluck?” “That could work. You could send invitations to whichever friends you want to come, and ask them each to bring some food. It’ll just be food and talking, and maybe some wine. I’ve got a karaoke machine at home, I could bring it over and we could set that up. It’ll be fun!” “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that?” “Yeah, why not?” “I mean, it’s not like you like parties either…” “You’re my friend, Y/n. It’s not socially exhausting being with you.. The rest of them are my friends too. It’ll be just a hangout for us,” Winwin promised.

“Okay.”

Two weeks later, cars started pulling into the carpark near your apartment, and you watched the familiar cars on the street from your window. “They’re here!” you exclaimed, going into the kitchen where Winwin was removing the lasagna from the oven.

“Oh?” Winwin placed the lasagna on the table, just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Winwin let out a laugh at your jittery state as you hurried to the door to open it. Jaehyun stood there at the door, a bouquet in hand, with Joy by his side.

“Welcome! Come in, come in,” you told them, gratefully receiving the flowers. Winwin led them into the house as you went to find a vase for the flowers. Joy set the food down on the dining table, remarking that the lasagna smelled heavenly.

Slowly, the guests began to arrive, first Suzy, followed by Dokyeom shortly after. Johnny, the company manager, was among the last few to arrive, but he was easily forgiven by virtue of his dazzling smile and the expensive wine he had brought.

Once everyone had arrived, the plates were distributed and food was served. Over the hot, steaming meal, everyone shared their congratulations, and you received a number of compliments on the lasagna.

The conversation proceeded to take the direction of the musical you were currently practising for, and several jokes that you should end practice earlier were made, but Johnny shook his head and smiled knowingly (you all knew that meant practice could very well be extended instead of shortened).

Once the food was finished, Winwin headed to the living room to set up the karaoke machine, while the guests brought the soiled cutlery to the kitchen, where they placed it in the sink before visiting the washroom.

As they started heading towards the living room, the doorbell rang, and you furrowed your brows in confusion.

You made your way to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it. In front of you stood a young man about your age, his hair slightly dishevelled, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Who’s that?” Winwin called. When you continued to remain silent, he set down the microphone and went over to take a look.

“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Chenle, your neighbour. My family and I noticed there were some guests earlier, are you having a housewarming party?”

You swallowed your saliva and nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Sorry, were we being too loud? I can tell them to keep their noise level down.” Personally, though, you hadn’t thought that you had been noisy. Was your neighbour one of those people that could only function in absolute silence? “Oh no, no,” Chenle laughed, waving his hands in front of him to dispel the thought. “You haven’t been noisy at all. We just wanted to pass you some pizza—my family runs a pizzeria, you see—to say welcome to the neighbourhood! Our flat is just opposite yours,” he pointed.

“Oh, wow. Thank you!” you replied.

“It’s no problem. Well, I’ll be going. Enjoy your party! I’ll see you around.” Smiling, Chenle waved at you and went back home.

You turned to Winwin, shutting the door before you whisper-yelled, “He’s cute!”

Winwin rolled his eyes and pulled on your ear, ignoring your cry of pain. “Honestly. What goes on in your head?”

Before you could reply, a screech from the living room caused both of you to turn your heads. You burst out into laughter as you caught sight of Johnny attempting to belt out a high note, his face red with exertion. Your friends were gathered around him in a circle, legs crossed, with Johnny being the sole exception. He stood in the centre, fist clenched, bent over as he sang into the microphone—that is, if it could be considered singing.

Breathless, he handed the microphone over to Joy, who blessed your ears with her melodious voice, amidst the dying laughter. Dokyeom handed him a glass of water, and he gulped it down, leaning against the sofa with a dramatic sigh.

You brought the pizza with you as you and Winwin headed over, settling onto the carpet as the song continued to play.

Dokyeom raised his head, locking eyes with you. Once you were seated, he tilted his head towards the door. “What was that about?”

“My new neighbour.”

“He’s cute,” Dokyeom commented.

“I know!” you replied, rolling your eyes. Opening the pizza box, the smell of freshly cooked pizza filled the air, and you handed a slice to Joy, who was staring at the pizza hungrily.

“Want one?” Dokyeom nodded, and you handed him a slice, before biting into a slice of your own pizza. The gooey, cheesy slice melted in your mouth, and you sighed happily.

“I told Winwin that the guy was cute, but he brushed it off,” you tell Dokyeom.

“He probably doesn’t want you replacing him,” Dokyeom said. “Want a lollipop?”

You received it, sucking on it contemplatively. After a moment, you took it out of your mouth, reaching over to tap Winwin on the shoulder.

“You know I’d never replace you, right?”

Winwin’s brows knitted together in a moment of confusion, but that expression was quickly replaced by one of amusement. “I know.”

“Good.” You retracted your hand, leaning forward to squint at the lyrics as the microphone was passed to you.

As the night came to an end, your friends gathered up the empty containers strewn about, collecting their belongings. More than one of them downed a glass of water, proceeding to head to the bathroom afterwards.

You wiped down the table before sending your friends off, waving at each one of them in turn.

“Thank you for coming,” you repeated.

“Thank you for inviting us!” Suzy smiled.

“Tell us about that cute boy,” Dokyeom said with a wink, scurrying off before you could respond.

“What— Seokmin!” Winwin reached out to place a hand on your shoulder, and you turned to face him.

“Do you need help with anything else?”

You shook your head. “Go home and get some rest.”

Winwin gave you a quick hug, waved and left.

With a sigh, you plopped onto the couch, gaze trailing over the empty house. The exhaustion was just beginning to catch up to you, and you let out a tired yawn. You ran a tired hand through your hair, sweeping it out of the way as you went into the kitchen, taking up a wet sponge and squeezing out a bit of dish soap before scrubbing at the dirty dishes.

Once that was done, you wiped down the table, swept the floor, and threw all the trash into the bin. Then, you bagged your trash and took it out.

As you locked your door, you noticed a piece of paper hung to the doorknob by a string. You removed it, taking a look at the words written on it.

dear neighbour,

i realised i forgot to get your name! anyway, here’s my number so you can contact me whenever.

chenle

You pocketed the piece of paper, and as you passed by Chenle’s house, you smiled a little at the shoes neatly placed on the shoe rack—mostly sneakers—wondering which ones were his.

After taking out the trash, you took a long, hot shower, letting all the tiredness dissolve from your body. You blow dried your hair, clambered into bed, and looked at your phone, which was blowing up with pictures from the earlier party.

You sent a quick ‘thank you’ message, resolving to go through the photographs slowly the next day, and sent a text to Chenle instead.

unknown: hey chenle, this is y/n, your neighbour :)

He replied almost immediately.

chenle (cute boy next door): hey y/n! it’s quite late, get some rest first? i’d love to hear how you're settling in y/n (neighbour): yep, you too

Placing your phone on the nightstand to be charged, you soon drifted off to sleep.

Hands braced against the floor, you did two back walkovers while the music slowly trailed off. The last note faded as Dokyeom’s voice quietened.

“Halt!” The two of you turned to the direction of the sound, and you took a few tentative steps back until you were next to Dokyeom. Dressed in a shirt and jeans, Winwin wasn’t very intimidating, but his tall stature and serious expression made up for it.

The silence ensued for a few seconds before Winwin sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. “Sorry. Line?”

The lights blinked on, and Johnny emerged at the foot of the stage. All eyes turned to him as he spoke, not loudly, but clear enough for his voice to travel.

“Alright, let’s take 5. Sicheng, you okay? Do you need to read your lines?”

Winwin nodded, then leapt down from the stage, grabbing his water bottle from one of the front row seats. He drank slowly before replacing his bottle and snatching up his script. The neon yellow highlights blurred as he shook out the script in frustration, flipping to the page he needed.

“Halt, what do you think you’re doing, you street rat?” he muttered, repeating it over and over again under his breath.

You sat on the edge of the stage with Dokyeom, catching your breath. You took a swig of water and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Dokyeom nudged you, and you turned to face him. “Hm?”

“How are you getting home? Is Sicheng still going to drop you off?” When you lived with your parents, you would always carpool with Winwin, since your house was on the way home for him.

You shook your head. Since moving house, it was no longer convenient for Winwin to drop you off. “Suzy offered to drop me off,” you told Dokyeom.

Dokyeom nodded. “That’s good. It isn’t safe to make your way home alone when it’s dark.”

“I know, Mum.” Dokyeom rolled his eyes at the jab. Checking his watch, he got to his feet, extending an arm to help you up. You took his hand and he pulled you to your feet with ease, the two of you setting your bottles down out of the way before assuming your places again.

Winwin hurried up the steps to the stage, eyes scouring the floor for the yellow crosses that demarcated his spot, and heading into the wing just next to it.

Johnny clapped his hands thrice, the loud sound resounding throughout the studio. “Ok everybody, breaktime is up! Let’s get back to rehearsing.”

The rehearsal ended at 10pm, which meant it was already 11 when you stepped out of the elevator at your floor. You were slightly delirious from the lack of sleep, having stayed up late the night before to tidy up your house. Rocking on your heels, you pressed a hand to your temples to ease the headache building up behind your eyes, taking a few steps forward.

Walking proved to be a challenge, as your foot came into contact with an obstacle. Blinking your bloodshot eyes, you identified the obstacle as a delivery box.

Several delivery boxes, in fact. No less than 10 delivery boxes were strewn across the corridor between your apartment and Chenle’s. You shut your eyes for a brief moment of reprieve, and when you opened them again, the boxes remained.

So you weren’t hallucinating. Frowning, you slowly weaved your way between the cardboard boxes. At your door, you braced one hand against the door frame as you removed your shoes, placing them on the rack and locking the door behind you.

You contemplated asking Chenle to move the boxes, but it was late and you didn’t intend to disturb him. You hadn’t actually seen him for the whole day, you realised. Perhaps his working hours and yours didn’t overlap.

y/n (neighbour): pls move ur delivery boxes 🙏

Not long after sending the text, you drifted off to sleep.

You woke the next morning to banging against your door. Concerned, you flipped your phone screen up, only to realise that it wasn’t even noon yet. With a long, drawn out groan, you rubbed your eyes as you slid into your slippers and padded across the room.

You pulled the door open, stifling a yawn, seeing your friends outside.

“It’s too early for this,” you mumbled, heading back inside before they could say anything. Dokyeom hurried inside after you, yelling for you to hurry as you disappeared into the toilet.

You emerged from the bathroom, dangling your earrings against your earlobes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, deciding which accessories fit your outfit best.

Dokyeom stood by the door with his arms crossed, shouting, “Hurry up! We’ve got to get there before they break for lunch!”

You groaned, putting the other sets of earrings back into the drawer and slipping the ones you'd chosen into your piercings. You pulled your socks on in a hurry, not even bothering to put your shoes on properly as you rushed out after your friends. Your fingers slipped a couple of times as you tried to insert the key into the keyhole, until you finally managed it, while Joy yelled at you from inside the elevator to move quickly.

You rushed into the elevator, kneeling to tie your shoelaces and put your shoes on properly. Then it hit you.

"What kind of lunch place closes during lunch time?"

Dokyeom scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, about that... I kind of just said the first thing that came to mind that I thought would make you hurry, and it worked, didn't it?"

"Seokmin! Ah, never mind. It's fine." You stood up properly, adjusting the strap of your shoulder bag as you followed your friends out. You got in Jaehyun's car, with Dokyeom navigating in the passenger seat.

The ride wasn't long, and you pulled up to a deserted building, with "One Minute Pizza (一分钟披萨饼)" written in a deep shade of red.

You stepped out of the car, followed by Joy and Dokyeom, while Jaehyun drove off to find a parking lot in the carpark. Dokyeom took the lead and you followed behind him as he headed to the counter to look at the menu.

"Chenle?"

To your surprise, one of the workers at the counter taking orders was none other than the neighbour you had messaged the night before.

His expression remained friendly, the customer-service smile fixed upon his face as he finished attending to the customer in front of you. As you and your friends moved forward, he caught sight of you, breaking into a genuine smile.

“Y/n! Welcome, what can I get you?”

Dokyeom launched into his order, ordering enough pizzas for all of you to share. Joy would be stealing everyone else’s food anyway, so Dokyeom didn’t bother ordering anything for her. Once he was done ordering, Chenle repeated the order back to him, and Dokyeom took the receipt and went to sit down.

You lingered a little while longer, standing by the side so the next customer in line could move forward. After calling out the order to the kitchen, Chenle looked at you, eyes rolling up as he recalled something. “Oh, right! I moved the boxes. Did you get my text?”

You glanced at your phone, realising that you had several unread texts. You clicked on the one from Chenle, which read:

chenle (cute boy next door): mb 😓😓 just cleared them!

“Yeah, I did! Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem. My mum has a bit of a consumption problem, so the delivery boxes are a common hazard. Just let me know next time, and I'll move it for you, yeah? Don't want you to trip and fall.”

“Okay.”

Chenle smiled, apologising to the customer for the wait before taking their order.

Jaehyun joined you as you walked to your table, nudging your shoulder and whispering conspiratorially, “Who’s that?”

“My neighbour.”

“Oh, the cute one?” You whipped your head, hair smacking into your forehead. You brushed your bangs out of your eyes as you gaped at Jaehyun, mortified.

“You heard that?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “You were speaking about it with Dokyeom while you were sitting right behind me. It wasn't hard to overhear."

"Jae!"

Jaehyun grinned, sitting down opposite you, half his ass off the chair as he squeezed in next to Joy, stuffing a slice of pizza in his mouth. His voice was muffled as he said something about you being one of the most obvious people he'd ever met.

Joy leaned forward, elbows propped up on the table, chin resting on her hands as she darted her eyes pointedly in Chenle's direction. "So, what's the plan?"

"What plan?"

Dokyeom squinted at you, brows furrowed. "Y/n, please don't tell me you're that dense." When you continued staring blankly at him, he pulled away with a sigh. "I guess you are. The plan to make Chenle your boyfriend, of course."

You choked on your drink, coughing violently while Dokyeom patted your back. Sputtering, you turned to face the culprit, who only looked at you innocently.

"Lee Seokmin!" you whisper-yelled. "Can you please not say that while he's right there?"

Dokyeom nodded appeasingly and waved a hand at the food. "Okay, okay. Go on and eat, we're actually going to be late if you're slow."

You checked your watch and scarfed down the pizza. However, Joy, who had already finished eating, had other priorities. Leaning back, she crossed her arms and said seriously, "I personally think you should find out if they have neighbours’ meetings. It'd be great in helping you assimilate into the community, while also getting to know a certain someone a little better."

Between bites of food, you considered this proposition before deciding that it wouldn't do you any harm. You nodded to acknowledge Joy's suggestion, before you finally finished eating and everyone stood up to return the trays while you wiped your mouth clean with a napkin.

"So," you started, while the four of you briskly made your way to the car, "I'll do what Joy says and update you all once I've done it."

Jaehyun let out a laugh. "Why do you make it sound so serious?"

You frowned, offended, but your conversation was interrupted when you locked eyes with Chenle, who smiled and waved at you. You waved back happily, a happy glow settling on your cheeks.

“Dear God,” Jaehyun groaned. “He’s already making you delusional.”

You swatted him, and he quickly amended, "Not delusional! A perfectly sane human who will be telling us all about their attempts to gain Chenle’s love!”

You harrumphed, taking long steps with your legs straightened out, until Joy wrapped her hands around you and laughed joyfully. “Come now, Y/n! They're just teasing.”

You stuck your tongue out the side of your mouth and glared at Jaehyun. He shrugged uselessly and you finally relented.

“Fine, I’ll tell you all about it. If anything happens.”

“When anything happens, you mean. Have some faith in Joy’s plan,” Dokyeom interjected, winking at Joy.

She grinned back at him and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

The studio was warm with the body heat radiating off the few of you piled up on each other, limbs strewn out in a tangled fashion, heads resting on anything soft you could find. Your head was buried deep within your sweater, which you had laid upon the wooden floor, and Winwin was snuggled up into your side. Somewhere, Suzy and Dokyeom were also lying among the scripts and pens lying on the floor, heads supported by their forearms and each other’s legs.

Nobody dared to move much—if they did, they might tickle whoever they were leaning on, and if they breathed too deeply, the person lying on them might shift away. Anyway, everyone was too tired to move much, mouthing their own lines to themselves, occasionally thumbing to the next page or groaning in frustration. You propped your elbows up and struggled into a half-sitting, half-lying down position, glancing over at Johnny, who was speaking to one of the stage crew while gesturing wildly to the stack of props next to them.

Joy awakened from her nap, rubbing her eyes as she looked around. “What time is it?” she asked, spotting you as the only one who wasn’t busy with something else.

“5.50,” you replied. Joy nodded, pulling her shoes back on, before tucking her hands into the deep pockets of her jacket and getting to her feet.

She walked over from her corner of the room to your spot on the floor, crashing next to you, causing Winwin to look up at the sound, eyes rolling up. Joy waved at him and smiled.

Winwin smiled back, rolling over onto his stomach as he surveyed the studio. He rubbed his hands together, then pressed the back of his palm against your neck, and you shuddered at how cold he was.

His body was warm, but his fingers weren’t, so you passed him the sweater that you had been lying on, and he buried his hands within it to gain some of the warmth you had transferred to it.

Your phone buzzed as you clambered to your feet. You pulled it out from your pocket, mouth widening in shock when you read the message.

“Joy,” you whispered urgently, tugging on her sleeve, “What does it mean when someone says they have a surprise for you?”

Joy let out a sharp, delighted gasp. “What?” Her shocked reply pulled Dokyeom out of his trance, and your friends gathered around your phone while Winwin stretched his legs out, a short distance away, weight resting on his palms as he watched you with an amused smile playing on his lips, head tilted to one side.

Joy skimmed through the messages quickly, her smile fading when she finished reading all of them. “I don’t think it means much, since he said his friend bought it for him. It kind of sounds like he’s just using you so he doesn’t feel guilty about letting the gift go to waste.”

“Ah,” you sighed, disappointed. “So it’s nothing special?”

Joy shrugged. “I mean, he’s giving you something, and that means he at least remembers you and is friendly towards you.”

“Can’t take care of these kinds of things well?” Dokyeom interjected, reading off the message, and you smiled inwardly at how delayed his reaction was. “What, is he giving you some kind of living organism or something?”

“... Shit.” You pressed your hand to your forehead. “You don't think he got me a plant, do you?”

Nervous laughter escaped Joy’s lips, shortly followed by Suzy’s full-on chortling. Soon, the sound of laughter in the room was so loud that you could barely hear Johnny calling for the actors to come back to the centre. That was, until his voice, amplified by the microphone strapped to his body, clearly enunciated, “Lee Dokyeom and company, if you’re not over here in one minute, you can all kiss goodbye to your current roles.”

The laughter soon died down to smothered giggles as you ran over to the sides of the studio that you were starting on, Jaehyun nudging you as you rehearsed your lines by the side. “Didn’t you kill the bean sprouts you tried to grow in elementary school?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since Winwin had given you a plant for your birthday and your parents had let slip that you were notoriously bad at taking care of anything living, including yourself, your friends had never let you live it down.

“Yes, Jae, that’s old news. Shouldn’t there be other things for you to think about right now? Say, like making sure you don’t accidentally start rapping your lines?”

Jaehyun groaned. “That was one time, Y/n–“

Before he could say any more, you were scurrying into the middle, one hand on Dokyeom’s shoulder as you bounced on the balls of your feet. You pretended to lose balance, falling forward into a front roll, and Dokyeom rushed forward, peering over the half-completed balcony prop.

“Abu!”

You got to your feet, dramatically dusting off your shoulders before grinning widely at Dokyeom, head cheekily cocked to one side before you leapt back behind the balcony prop.

All thoughts of Chenle were soon pushed to the back of your mind as you immersed yourself in the role.

Those thoughts never left the back of your mind, however, and they still plagued you as you sipped the ice-cold water from the water cooler and swirled your noodles around, taking slow bites while Suzy ate contentedly.

“You okay?”

You shrugged, forcing yourself to take another bite before looking at the empty bowl and sighing heavily. Rehearsal had ended earlier than expected, and it was barely 10pm, yet you felt more tired than usual.

“I guess I’m just a little tired of life.”

Suzy raised her eyebrows, reaching over to hug you wordlessly. When she pulled away, her hand remained on your shoulder as she made eye contact with you. Each word she said was intentional and carefully enunciated as she told you, “That’s normal. We all get a little tired of life sometimes, especially when we’re nearing a big production and hours are long, making it easy for us to lose sight of what the goal is. Just remember that you have us—” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the empty studio—“and that we’re always here for you.”

You nodded, slumping against the table and burying your head in your hands. “It’s just– I want to love and be loved, you know? And it’s so hard to do that in this day and age.”

Suzy smiled ruefully and hummed in understanding. “I know it’s tough. I won’t lie and say it gets better, but at some point we all figure out something that works for us. Just hang in there for a while, you’ll find your way too.”

Her words hung in your mind the entire ride home, even as you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor. You took advantage of the short elevator ride to take a break, shutting your eyes until the “ding” sound of the elevator doors opening called you back to reality. 

You were greeted by a potted plant sitting next to your shoe rack when you came up to your door, and you slipped your shoes off and picked up the plant, pushing open the door to your house. You set the plant down on your dining table, glad that there was a plate underneath to prevent the water from leaking onto your floor.

You left the plant there while you went to wash up, and came back afterwards with your phone in hand.

Sitting at the table, you turned the plant around aimlessly, contemplating what to do with this “surprise” your neighbour had given you with pure intentions. A white sticker caught your attention, and you began to search up the name, looking up what kind of care it needed. Fortunately for you, it was a succulent and fairly low maintenance; although you knew that you were still perfectly capable of killing it.

You decided to put it on your window sill, where it was sure to get plenty of direct sunlight while you were fast asleep, and watered it sparingly. You sat at the table, admiring the view of the plant anyone else would have if they were to step foot inside the house, a smile breaking out across your face.

You caught yourself, shocked at how quickly you had come to accept the gift, despite your earlier protests about owning a plant.

Before you could think any better of it, you were dialling Winwin’s number.

He picked up the video call, groggily wiping at his half-closed eyes. “Honestly, Y/n, have you ever heard of this thing called ‘sleeping’? It’s really good. You should try it.”

“I have a succulent. On my window sill. And I'm happy thinking about how it’ll look every time I come home.”

“Wow,” Winwin drawled. “What a tragedy.”

“I’m serious, Sicheng. I’ve never managed to keep a plant alive before. But the moment Chenle gives me one, I'm staying up late trying to figure out how best to take care of it. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

Winwin rubbed his face tiredly. “Do you need me to come over? You sound like you’re having a crisis.”

You shook your head. “No, can you just… Stay on the call with me?”

Winwin nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

A moment of silence ensued before he asked, “So, what’s up? Suzy told me you were feeling a little tired of life.”

You shrugged. “I don't know, I'm just… thinking a lot, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship.”

Three years, to be exact. Your high school sweetheart had lasted all of four years before deciding halfway through university that your “high commitment to theatre” made it “impossible” for the two of you to work out.

Since then, you had never been in a relationship, though not for lack of trying—you simply had high standards that were difficult to meet, and all your previous dates had barely met the bare minimum. Once, you had jokingly suggested that you and Winwin date, but he had turned down the offer without blinking. In hindsight, dating within the troupe would have been messy whether or not the two of you broke up.

“Y/n,” Winwin called, pulling you out of your stupor.

You blinked at him. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. Just, talk to me, yeah? You know I can’t read your mind.”

You nodded. “I know. I was just thinking.”

“We’ve discussed this. If you want to talk to me, you’re going to actually have to talk. You can't just be silent and expect me to understand.”

“Can't we just sit in silence for a while?” you asked pleadingly.

Winwin shook his head. “You know what comes from sitting in silence. Those thoughts in your head never go silent, do they? You’re going to have to voice them aloud for me to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just wondering if I really like Chenle, or if I’m seeking out love to the point that I mistake any form of human interaction outside of our group as a potential romantic relationship.”

Winwin’s gaze softened. “I think you’re being paranoid. Your feelings are completely valid, don't discredit them like that. Why don't you just wait it out and see? There’s no harm in getting to know him better.”

“But you know me, Sicheng. You know I’m scared to commit. I'm scared to lead him on and then dip when he reciprocates.”

Winwin smiled ruefully. “Haven’t you ever heard of facing your fears? You’re good at stepping out of your comfort zone. What changed?”

You shrugged, playing with the hem of your shirt. You stood from your spot in the dining area, making your way into the bedroom, where you snuggled under the covers as Winwin watched you expectantly.

“I guess you’re right. There’s no harm in getting to know him better. I am planning to stay in this place for a long while.”

Winwin grinned. “That’s the Y/n I know. Get some sleep, you’re going to have to talk to Chenle tomorrow.”

You frowned, mouth opening to ask what he meant, but you were too slow. As always, Winwin was one step ahead, hanging up before you could say anything.

sicheng: don't think i’ve forgotten about your promise to execute joy’s plan sicheng: i'll make sure you carry it out tmrw

You sighed. You weren’t sure whether to be grateful to have a friend like Winwin.

It was drizzling when you stepped out of the elevator, a light breeze blowing into the lift lobby. Other than the quiet whistle of the wind, everything else was silent—just how you liked it.

You took your time taking off your shoes, leisurely unlocking your door, when you heard the click of someone else’s lock and the sound of a door opening. You turned around, only to see Chenle dressed in a hoodie and shorts, his tousled hair obscuring his face.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, barely managing to tame it, when he finally looked up from his feet to you. His slippers remained forgotten on the shoe rack by the door as you made eye contact, breathing out a soft “oh”.

Chenle froze, hand groping about for the doorknob, then deciding to forget about it and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. He stepped away from the door frame, shutting the gate behind him, and jerking his head at you.

“Just got back?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause while you contemplated asking Chenle if he was drunk, but he answered your question before it was even out of your mouth.

“I’m sober, by the way. Just hungry. I was going to head out to the store nearby to get some noodles, do you wanna come?”

You looked down at yourself, then back at the open door, into the empty apartment where there was nothing waiting for you anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to go with Chenle, right?

“Sure.”

Both of you stopped just before exiting the apartment building, opening your umbrellas as you stepped out into the rain, one after another, The wind had picked up, and the rain was starting to grow heavier, blowing into your face.

Chenle tugged the hood of his jacket up, cocking his head to one side. You followed him, staying silent on the walk there until Chenle spoke up.

“So, what’s your job? Do you often end this late?”

You side-stepped to avoid stepping into a puddle, not looking up as you replied, “I’m an actor.”

“You act in movies?”

You shook your head, then remembered he probably couldn’t see you with it being so dark outside. “I’m preparing for a musical.”

Chenle came to an abrupt halt, and you stopped walking, tearing your eyes away from his worn trainers to meet his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about the amusement in his black eyes, or the way it made them sparkle just a little, even with the sky being pitch black all around you.

“SorryIwasbusylookingatyourshoes,” you mumbled, all in a rush.

“What?” Chenle leaned in, and you took two frantic steps backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said!” you yelled, then covered your mouth immediately. Nothing was going to plan!

Chenle let out a chuckle and you glanced at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes as he smiled at you. “Am I making you nervous?”

“No.” You tried not to let your voice waver when you repeated it. “No, I’m not nervous. What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really talk to people much unless they’re customers, or when I’m playing on the court. It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation. I didn’t want to cross a line, so let me know if anything I’m doing is making you nervous.”

“You’re not– you’re not making me nervous, Chenle. I’m fine.”

Chenle’s lip curled up slightly. “You remembered my name.”

“Yeah.”

Chenle started walking again, and you matched his pace, trying not to think too hard about what was coming out of your mouth, or why he might have gone silent.

“What kind of noodles do you like?”

You frowned, trying to think of all the noodles you had ever tried. Winwin had definitely taken you out to some Chinese restaurants before, but the only thing you remembered was that noodles were “mien”, which wasn’t helpful in your current situation at all.

“Um, I’ll eat any kind? Chow mien, maybe?”

“Chǎo miàn,” Chenle repeated, and you weren’t sure if he was correcting you. “Yeah, I can do that. That just means fried noodles, though. What kind of noodles do you want me to fry?”

“Oh, uh–“ you stuttered anxiously. “I’m not– I’m not really sure? I’m fine with whatever, really.” I don’t know what the names of the different noodles are, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of you, you added to yourself.

“Okay. Lā miàn it is, then.”

You repeated it softly to yourself under your breath, and were surprised when Chenle corrected your pronunciation. You hadn’t expected him to have such keen hearing, nor had you expected him to actually care about how you pronounced it. Winwin had never really cared; you thought that he had probably given up a while back, after hopelessly trying to get you to say “nǐ hǎo” for one of the jokes he had made to you.

Chenle was quite the opposite.

He was extremely persistent, to the point that it should have been annoying, but you were honestly just happy that the conversation wasn’t dying down.

While he led you through the noodle aisle, confidently making his way to where the lā miàn was, he pointed out the other kinds of noodles, making you practise saying the name of each one before he moved on. By the time he finally reached the lā miàn boxes, you were on the verge of snatching a box of uncooked noodles off the shelves and dragging Chenle out, just so he would stop criticising the way you struggled to pronounce the tones.

As Chenle scanned the noodles, you finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Chenle, do you guys have neighbourly meetings?”

“What?” he replied, distractedly tapping one of the options on the screen and tapping his card to pay for the noodles. He tore the receipt off, barely looking at it as he folded it and put it in his pocket, before turning his attention to you. “What are neighbourly meetings?”

“You know, like when you meet up with your neighbours and, I don’t know, discuss stuff pertaining to your apartment flats, or maybe just play pool?”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Did you have that in your previous building?” he asked, walking out. You weren’t far behind, inwardly letting out a sigh of relief when you noticed that the rain had lightened up.

“…no?”

Chenle let out a laugh that had your heart pounding in your chest, youthful and genuine, and you wondered why you had never seen him outside with his friends. If you were his friend, you would want to spend every waking second with him, just to hear his cheerful laughter and infectious joy.

“Then what makes you think we would have it?”

“I don’t know.” You decided not to tell him that Joy had suggested it, and you had never really stopped to consider if it was something that people even implemented anymore.

“I guess we do have something similar, but we haven’t held them in a while. We call them ‘Fifth Floor Film Fridays’, or F4 for short.”

“Sounds a little cringe, don’t you think?”

“Hey, watch your words. I came up with the name.”

“My bad. Didn’t know you were cool like that,” you said, tucking the handle of your umbrella under your armpit so you could raise both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Thanks. Anyway, Renjun came up with the idea so we could speak to Jisung, since he had just moved into the flat at the time. You know how each floor only has four flats? Well, Renjun and I lived in two of the flats, and there was an old man living in yours. He used to give us candy when he saw us coming back from school,” Chenle reminisced.

“He always had his door open, with only the gate closed as he sat on his rocking chair and read the newspaper. He passed away a year ago, and his children have been trying to sell the flat for a while before you bought it. Either way, at the time the only other kid on our floor was Jisung, but he was shy and kind of awkward and always looked the other way when we saw him in the corridors in school.”

You couldn’t imagine what that would be like. If Chenle ever tried to speak to you in high school, you were sure that you would eagerly reciprocate his energy, even if you were later teased by your friends about it.

“So, Renjun and I talked loudly about F4 when we passed by him one day, and I pretended to remember that Jisung lived on our floor too, and ‘conveniently’ asked him to join.”

“…and it worked?”

“Of course! We just haven’t had them in a while, since, you know, we were all in university. But Renjun and I have both graduated, and Jisung’s never been one for studying, so I’m sure I could tell them to make time this Friday.”

When you didn’t reply, Chenle added, “You’re free then, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am,” you lied. You weren’t sure if Johnny would let you take the time off, but you were sure if you tried to beg, you could probably pull it off.

“Then it’s set,” Chenle said, unlocking his door. You left your shoes outside by the door, padding softly across the floor, too scared to make any noise. Chenle locked the door, then pressed his index finger to his lips in a shushing motion, leading you into the kitchen.

He turned the light on, glancing at the bedroom door, presumably to ensure that his parents hadn’t woken up.

“You can just take a seat,” he told you, taking cutlery and two bowls from the cupboards. You took them from him, setting them on the dining table while he retrieved the various ingredients for the fried noodles and set a pot of water on the stove to boil.

“Last time I cooked for someone else, I was trying to impress someone I had over,” he said, conversationally.

“Oh yeah? How did that work out?”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “It didn’t. I just felt the need to cook for them because they only ever came to the family pizzeria to see me, and they would always compliment me on the pizza, but I don’t actually make those. I just collate orders and tell my parents what the customers want.”

Rolling his eyes, he continued, “So obviously, it hurt my ego that they didn’t know all about my cooking prowess. And because I’m so painfully Chinese, of course I subjected them to all the Chinese vegetable dishes my parents made for me growing up. They barely touched any of it because, as it turned out, they didn’t like eating their vegetables.”

“What were they, five?” you scoffed.

Chenle grinned. “I know, right? My parents told me not to invite anyone else who couldn’t eat the food I cooked after that.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t like your cooking?”

Chenle smiled threateningly. “I’ll kick you out without hesitation.”

“It’s good that I’m not picky, then.” You stood up from your chair, walking over to watch Chenle strain the hot noodles and cool them down with ice before tossing what felt like random sauces into the pan and stir-frying the noodles.

“Can I help?”

Chenle hummed. “Not really. I mean, you’re still a guest.”

“Okay.” You watched him from a safe distance, stepping aside when he turned off the fire to allow him to walk towards the dining table and scoop half of the noodles into each bowl.

“Enjoy.”

You picked up your chopsticks, clicking them twice before thanking Chenle for the food and taking a bite.

Chenle, for all his bravado, didn’t move to take a bite until a smile broke out on your face, and he looked visibly relieved when you didn’t criticise his cooking. He began to eat his own noodles, not forgetting to compliment himself, and you agreed with raised eyebrows and a sigh. 

Afterwards, he walked you to the door, waiting until you had closed the door behind you to return into his own house, beginning to wash the dishes.

Meanwhile, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with shampoo running down your neck, wondering how the hell you had ended up eating stir-fried noodles at Chenle’s place at midnight.

Once out of the bathroom, though, you had come to terms with the fact that it was a real thing that had happened, and not just some kind of hallucination. When your hair was dry, you lay down in bed, burying your face into your pillow and screaming.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you resolved to go to sleep.

Blocking was your worst enemy. It always had been for someone like you, who always forgot that the stage had limited space and you all had to move around while being aware of each others’ presence.

You did a cartwheel for what felt like the hundredth time, wobbling on your feet as you tried to regain your balance, hand pressed to your forehead in an attempt to ease the headache caused by the blood rushing to your brain. Johnny glared at you and you realised that you were half a metre away from where you were supposed to be. Still dizzy from the amount of time you had spent upside down, you took a few shaky steps to the yellow cross demarcating the spot you were supposed to be in.

“Stop, let’s take 5. Y/n, you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I just can't do it full-out, my hands are shaking,” you told him softly, holding your hands out for him to see that they were trembling.

Johnny took one long, hard look at you and shook his head. “You’re taking tomorrow evening off.”

“What?”

“We’re all taking tomorrow evening off, in fact. Let’s make it a long weekend.”

Still confused, you stared at him as he announced it to everyone, gesturing for you to drink water. You came back right after, tapping Johnny on the shoulder as you asked, “Why are we having a long weekend?”

Johnny smiled warmly. “I forget you guys are still young sometimes. You shouldn’t be spending your early 20s burning yourselves out like this. Get some rest, watch a movie or something.”

“That’s what he said,” you told Joy, who had just asked how you managed to get Johnny to call Friday evening off. She smiled, hugging her knees close to her chest as she looked at you.

“He really has a soft spot for the younger ones,” she mused. “So, how are you spending your Friday off? Any plans?”

You laughed softly, thinking about how you’d asked Chenle if there were any neighbours’ meetings you could attend. “I do, actually. Turns out my neighbours do this thing called ‘Fifth Floor Film Fridays’ sometimes.”

“Tacky name,” Joy commented.

“Chenle came up with it.”

“Ah. Then it’s tasteful.”

You let out a snort. “No need for the switch-up. I thought it was pretty tacky too. But that’s not important, what’s important is that I'm going over to his house tonight for it.”

Joy leaned forward, a glimmer in her eyes as she said, “Run it by me. What you’re bringing, what time you’re going to be there, who’s going to be there. Tell me all about it.”

Later that night, you were holding down the lid of your frying pan while you popped the corn kernels you had just bought in a pan full of butter, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t end in catastrophe.

After what seemed like forever, the timer on your phone finally rang, and you removed the lid triumphantly, tossing the popcorn around so they wouldn’t stick to the pan. Luckily, the method you had used seemed to work, and you only had to throw out a small amount of unpopped kernels while pouring the popcorn into an open container for it to cool down.

You washed the pan and checked out your outfit in the mirror one last time before spraying a mild perfume on your wrists and pressing them against the sides of your neck.

Carrying the container of popcorn and precariously balancing a pack of sour strips on top of it, you pressed the doorbell to Chenle’s house, wondering if anyone else had arrived yet.

Your question was quickly answered by the man sitting in the living room, barely visible from the door when Chenle opened it and greeted you with a smile, but perfectly audible as he spelled the name of the movie aloud.

You entered the apartment cautiously, feeling unexpectedly nervous, but your fears were soon eased when you made eye contact with the man sitting on the sofa. He paused his struggle with the remote for a second while trailing his gaze up and down your figure, before breaking out into a smile.

“Hi, I'm Renjun.”

“Hi, Renjun. Do you need help with the TV? Oh, I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“I know,” he replied cryptically. “Chenle’s mentioned you before.”

You looked at Chenle in surprise, and he stared back at you. “What? I had to explain why I suddenly wanted to revive F4.”

Right. So that was all it was. Nothing to overthink about, you reminded yourself. You found a seat on the sofa, holding your hand out for the remote, and Renjun grudgingly handed it to you. “I can do it myself, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I just thought I’d help and speed up the process a little,” you quipped. Chenle let out a high-pitched giggle, squeezing between Renjun and the armrest, teasingly nudging his friend.

“Y/n’s calling you slow,” he said, as if Renjun hadn’t already gotten it. The latter rolled his eyes and rested his chin against his hand in a bored fashion, while you triumphantly displayed the movie that Renjun had been trying to find.

The doorbell rang again, and Renjun got up from the sofa that time, warmly hugging Jisung as he entered.

The tall, lanky man followed Renjun into the house, shutting the door behind him and giving Chenle a wave. Catching sight of you, he stopped in his tracks, tugging on Renjun’s shirt and mouthing, Is that Y/n?

Renjun nodded, almost imperceptibly, and you cracked a smile at their silent exchange. “Yes, Jisung, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You extended a hand to him, and the introverted man hesitantly took a few steps forward before taking your hand and shaking it.

Jisung set the grapes he had brought down on the table, mouth widening as he caught sight of the packet of candy. “Sour strips? Those are my favourite,” he gushed, reaching one hand out for them. “Can I open them? Who brought these?”

“Yeah, sure, you can open them.”

Jisung turned his big-eyed stare to you, and you found yourself melting in his gaze. “You brought it?”

You nodded, and Jisung raised a palm to cover his mouth. “Ah, really! Thanks.”

You nodded to acknowledge him, and Renjun stood up to turn the lights off, while Chenle turned the television on. Somehow, with all the movement going on, you ended up in the centre of the sofa, wedged between Jisung on your left and Chenle on your right, while Renjun sat on the right-most with his elbow propped up on the arm rest. 

With the cosy atmosphere and the lights turned down low, it was easy for you to forget that you barely knew the other neighbours, leaning forward while stuffing popcorn into your mouth, fully invested in the storyline. You almost forgot that the others weren’t your group of friends, who liked to talk loudly during the movie about the cinematic lighting or the expressions the actors made.

When you made a comment about the delivery of a specific line, Renjun turned to glare at you, but stopped when he saw the way Chenle watched you. A delighted smile on his lips, he watched your expressions like it was more entertaining than the movie, only turning his attention back to the screen once you stopped speaking.

Renjun tapped his finger against his chin, observing you more carefully.

You weren’t making a lot of physical contact with either of the men seated on either side of you, but you were very vocal, unafraid to voice every thought that crossed your mind aloud. You easily matched Chenle’s energy, nodding seriously and fuelling him whenever he started talking about one of the scenes, even when he got to the point that usually Jisung would sigh and smile exasperatedly, reaching out to place a hand over Chenle’s mouth to shut him up.

When this continued for an hour straight, it became too much for Jisung to bear. With a soft cry of frustration, he ran his hands through his hair, scrunching it up in irritation before he stood and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Renjun rose from the sofa not long after, following Jisung’s lead into the kitchen.

In a hushed whisper, Renjun spoke to Jisung. “Do you see what’s going on out there?”

“It’s like there’s two of them,” Jisung complained. “We should never have said yes to tonight.”

“No,” Renjun replied. “That’s not the important part. Have you seen how Chenle looks at them?”

Jisung cocked his head in confusion. “No?”

“He looks at them like they're glowing, or something like that. He’s infatuated! I’ve never seen him let someone else speak without trying to interrupt them constantly to say his piece before. It’s almost like he agrees with everything they're saying.”

“Which is impossible, because Chenle never agrees with anyone,” Jisung gasped in realisation. “Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”

“What? No! Ugh, you’re so clueless.”

Jisung pouted, and Renjun folded immediately. “Fine, you’re not clueless. I think Chenle likes Y/n, whether he knows it or not.” Renjun stuck his head out, peeking at the two sitting on the sofa, then nodded to reaffirm his point.

“So… what are we going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Renjun sighed, with a roll of his eyes, “That’s how good dramas play out. Sometimes, you’ve got to let the characters figure out what to do on their own. Has our interference ever helped Chenle get into a relationship?”

Jisung opened his mouth to say yes.

“A long-lasting one,” Renjun hastily amended. Jisung reconsidered each time they had tried to set Chenle up with someone, including the disastrous last time when the person they were trying to set Chenle up with only liked Italian food, and never ate any sort of vegetables.

Jisung slowly shook his head.

“Exactly. Let’s just leave them alone this one time, okay? We’ve got to have a little faith in Chenle.”

Almost as if hearing his name, Chenle looked up from the sofa, eyebrows furrowing as he caught sight of his two friends standing in the kitchen and whispering to each other.

He raised one hand, beckoning his friends back, and they set down their glasses and went back to join the two sitting in the living room.

Noting that you were still absorbed in the movie, Chenle leaned over to Renjun and murmured, “What was that all about?”

Renjun shrugged innocently. “I was just asking Jisung how his last year was.”

“I want to know too, why did you guys have to go over there and act like it’s a secret or something?”

“Once the movie is over, we can talk all about it, ok? I want to hear about Y/n too.”

“Deal.” Chenle raised his pinky, and Renjun reluctantly took it, hooking his pinky with Chenle’s.

“Did you never grow up?”

“Nope,” Chenle said cheerfully.

A feeling of dread began to overcome Chenle as he saw you stumbling into his family’s pizzeria with nothing but a six pack of beer and your phone, collapsing at a table near the counter. Business was slow at 9am on a Wednesday, especially since they had just opened, and Chenle found himself swearing under his breath before walking over and sitting down opposite you.

You cracked open your first can of beer, sipping slowly at it while staring straight at Chenle, who couldn’t be bothered to hide his disgust.

“Seriously? It’s 9am on a weekday. What’s got you like this?”

“You forget that my sleep schedule is royally fucked, so this is basically 3am to me,” you told him, one finger pointing vaguely at him.

“And that gives you the right to come in here and drink to your heart’s content? I’m not having you sitting around here drunk. It’s bad for business.”

You smiled bitterly. “What business? The place is empty anyway. I'll be sober before lunchtime, don't worry. The alcohol content in the beer is pretty low, and I still have to go to work after this.”

You managed to gulp down an entire can, cracking open a new one, before Chenle sighed and took the rest away from you.

“Seriously, Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not about my ex,” you said immediately. “I’m well and truly over him.”

Chenle couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt, but he squashed it down, gritting his teeth and saying, “Don't care. Didn’t ask. Don't answer my question with a negative.”

“I can't tell you who it’s about,” you said. “It would be mad embarrassing.”

“You must still be somewhat sober then,” Chenle muttered. “Can I leave you?”

“No.” You grabbed his wrist, and he promptly sat back down. “Don't go. I'll tell you.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about me, selfishly.”

“It’s not selfish to have problems,” Chenle said, trying to comfort you, but you waved it off.

“Don't interrupt. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Chenle shut up pretty quickly when you said that, so you continued, “I had this conversation a while back with Sicheng. Told him I was scared I was just looking for romance, and that a crush I thought I had was just me trying to push myself into a relationship. But now it’s no longer about not being sure of my feelings.”

Chenle didn’t know why, but some part of him wanted to get up and leave the conversation before he had to hear any more about the guy who had your heart. He didn’t want to hear you talking about some guy you liked unless it was him, because it was making him so jealous he could hardly breathe.

“I’m scared to commit,” you confessed. “I know I like him and I'm fairly sure he likes me back, and I don't know if he knows but I'm scared to tell him in case it all becomes too real for me to handle.”

Chenle felt his heart rate grow impossibly slow. There was, in his opinion, the slimmest of chances that the person you were talking about was him.

And while Chenle had always been an opportunist, he was also practical. He wasn’t about to jeopardise his chances by confessing while you were drunk, especially not when he was fairly certain you would forget the whole interaction by the time it was night. That would be simply humiliating for him, and his pride wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So to keep his pride at least somewhat intact, Chenle only said, “I think you should confess.”

“Really?” You looked at him sceptically, reaching for another can of beer. Chenle would have stopped you a second time, but instead of trying to drink it, you started lining three cans of beer up, stacking another two cans on top of it. Although you tried to place the last empty can atop the other two to finish the pyramid, your shaky hand made it hard for you to achieve the feat.

After three failed attempts, Chenle grew impatient, and held your wrist to steady it while you placed the last can on top of the pyramid. With one hand holding your wrist in place, he used the other hands to loosen the death grip you had on the can, moving your hand aside so the can would stay on top of the pyramid.

You slumped over on the table, staring at your masterpiece happily.

“I like–”

Chenle reached over and placed one finger on your lips to shush you, shaking his head. Chenle wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t to hear a confession while he was working, on a Wednesday morning, while you were half-drunk only a few hours before you had to head to work at a studio half an hour away.

His heart wasn’t ready for it, anyway.

He stood up, left to get you some water, and came back while you continued to stare into space dazedly, forcing you to finish a cup of water before repacking the unopened cans of beer and throwing away the empty ones.

“I appreciate your openness,” he said sincerely. “But I’d rather hear it when you’re sober. I'm confiscating this—” he held up the remaining four cans of beer, putting them in the fridge before coming back to you—”and you are going for a walk with me.”

You followed limply as he took you out, walking one round around the block while you leaned on his shoulder for support. Chenle, having established that you were sober enough to take the bus to your studio, was taking you back to the pizzeria when your phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, I thought you were kidnapped or something! Are you okay?”

You nodded, then remembered that Winwin wasn't able to see you. "Yeah. Why?"

"We agreed to meet up, remember? This is the third time you've stood me up in two months."

You slapped your forehead. Of course you remembered! Just not when you were drunk and trying to confess to someone who had just rejected you because you weren't sober. You cast a glance at Chenle, who raised his eyebrows at you.

"Um, yeah. About that. Sorry?"

“I've literally been to this arcade three times to wait for you already, people are going to start thinking I'm a loser whose date never shows up!"

"Don't be dramatic, Sicheng. Didn't you call Jaehyun to accompany you the past few times?"

“Yeah, after you were a no-show for two hours because you overslept!"

You winced apologetically. It really was your fault, but there was nothing you could do about the past few times. "I'm coming now. Can you hold on for a while?"

“You'd better hurry."

 As you hung up, you turned to look at Chenle, but he was busy looking away.

"So, Chenle–"

Chenle shook his head. "You're still not fully sober yet. I don't want to hear anything from those lips. Go and catch Sicheng, I'm sure he's been waiting."

"Can we... talk about this some other time?"

Chenle nodded. "Whenever you're free."

You weren’t expecting to see Chenle sitting on the step in front of his door, phone in his hands, when you arrived back home that day after a long day out. It had been a tiring day for you, having gone to the arcade and then to the studio afterwards, and all you wanted was to take a hot shower and go to bed.

But there Chenle was, his phone screen brightly lit up, although he switched it off the moment you stepped into view. He flipped the phone in his hands carelessly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You gave him a long, hard look, then headed inside, dropping your things off in your bedroom before taking a shower. Minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, towel around your neck as you dried your hair, leaving the main door open when you took a seat at your steps, directly opposite Chenle.

No one spoke for a few moments, and it was just the two of you existing, surrounded by an atmosphere of comfortable silence. The stars blinked at you as you stared aimlessly out the side, watching the moon glow dimly, shrouded by the cloud cover.

Finally, after a long silence, you stretched out your legs, your breath whistling softly past your teeth, and Chenle looked straight into your eyes and spoke.

“How’s life?”

There was a certain understanding that rippled through the air—you weren’t going to talk about the almost-confession that had happened in the morning. He probably thought you didn’t remember it, and even though you did, you weren’t going to bring it up. There were some things better left unsaid.

Anyway, if he didn’t want to hear it, it was probably because he didn’t want to reject you twice. You set your towel on your lap, hands clasped, leaning forward as you said, “It’s fine.”

“What play are you preparing for now?”

“Aladdin.”

“Ah.” Chenle was silent for a while, and when you didn’t speak, he asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me to come watch it?”

“Johnny hasn’t given us our allocation of tickets yet, so, no. But I can invite you in advance.”

“Wow. You sound like you’re being held at gunpoint to say that.”

You laughed hollowly. “Sorry, I’m not really in the best mood.”

Chenle scoffed. “Oh, yeah? Then when are you in the best mood? At 9am in the morning?”

“Wow.” You took a long, slow breath and buried your head in your hands. “You’re right. Sorry. I won’t show up like that again.”

“It's not about the business, Y/n. I was kidding when I said that. It’s about me being worried about you. Why do you have to drink all by yourself? Is there no better way to resolve your problems?”

“Now you’re making me feel in need of a drink.”

“Seriously? So that’s just your default response to anyone asking you if you’re okay? That’s fucked up, Y/n. You’re halfway there to being an alcoholic at this rate.”

“Actually, you’re wrong.” You could almost hear the pleading tone in your voice, begging him to please believe you, to please stop being mad over an issue that didn’t exist. “I don’t drink. Today was the first time in a few months.”

It was the first time drinking and not thinking about your ex, anyway. Hence your opening line.

“Then? What’s up with this ex of yours, and why was the first thing you said to me that it wasn’t about your ex? It sounded highly suspicious to me.”

There it was. The real root of the problem, the reason Chenle was acting the way he was. Curiosity and misplaced anger, and if you read far into it enough, a hint of jealousy. But of course you didn’t read into it, because that had never been your strong suit. You preferred to take things at face value, then drive yourself insane over the “what if”s, analysing hypothetical scenarios instead of the body language that was perfectly real.

“My ex and I were high school sweethearts. He was my first and only real relationship, and I’ve never let myself get too close to anyone since. I guess I’m scared to commit, scared for everything to be so real and then to lose another person. Again.”

Chenle huffed a sigh, getting to his feet and sitting next to you. You shifted over, squeezing with him on the small step, and his hand landed on your shoulder. A silent tear rolled down your cheek, and Chenle’s other hand wrapped you in a warm, wordless hug.

“I don’t want to let myself get close, Chenle. That’s why I was drinking today; I was torn between my desire to be loved and my fear of not being loved.”

Chenle pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, listening to your muffled words as you mumbled into his jacket, and he loosened his hug to look at you, eyes trailing down your face.

“Give it a chance,” he said, slowly. “Give loving a chance. I promise it’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

“That’s a great line,” you sniffed, wiping away your tears. “Have you ever considered becoming a playwright?”

Chenle shook his head. “No, but maybe after I watch your rendition of ‘Aladdin’, I might change my mind.”

You grinned weakly. “I’ll do my best, then.”

The screen in the dressing room was black, with Johnny occasionally walking onstage with a microphone strapped to his head. His low heeled boots clicked against the floor, and though the microphone didn’t pick it up, you had heard the sound often enough to imagine it as you watched your director walking across the stage.

Clipboard in one hand and his phone in the other, Johnny’s eyebrows were knotted together as he spoke rapidly into the microphone. Most of it was for the stage crew, so you couldn’t hear what he was saying down in the dressing room, but occasionally you would get startled when he walked back into the wings—presumably going to call the actors back onstage—only to emerge again a few seconds later.

Finally, it was almost time for the show to begin, and you went to prepare in the wings.

”Oh God.”

You heard Winwin’s strangled whisper even with the thunderous applause resounding in the echoey chambers of the theatre, watching the lights slowly dim through the gap between the curtains. You turned to face him, momentarily pulled away from scanning the audience, only to see his face ashen and pale, mouth agape.

”What?”

“She’s there,” he breathed, more like a sigh than actual words.

”Who?”

”Ningning. My junior from university. The one that brought me flowers on graduation day?”

Ah, that one. You clearly remembered her, even though you had only met her once. That specific incident had been a core memory of yours, back when your group had gone to attend Winwin’s graduation ceremony. As a bunch of theatre kids, you were the only ones dressed in brightly coloured jeans and turtlenecks, among the other students in graduation gowns and the iconic black hats.

Jaehyun ruffled Winwin’s hair, and he ducked shyly, hands reaching up to smoothen out his curls. The gel in his hair made this a difficult feat, so he eventually gave up, as Jaehyun laughed at him delightedly.

The commotion only got louder when one of Winwin’s batchmates called for a photo, and the graduates hurried to find a place on the steps, Winwin making his way to the back naturally. Several cameras flashed, and someone yelled for them to stay still while he swapped out his phone for another one, and the chorus of “cheese” sounded once more.

”Shī gē!” A Chinese girl with a bright smile and her hair in a high ponytail came running up to Winwin as he made his way back to you, a bouquet of yellow carnations in hand. “Happy graduation!”

Winwin’s face flushed red at the sound of someone calling him “senior”, and laughter burst out at the uncommon sight of someone chasing after Winwin. Although you would admit that your best friend was rather attractive, his features also made him too intimidating for anyone to approach. In your years of friendship, only one person had made a move on Winwin, and they had been politely rejected—if you could call being dismissed with a confused tilt of Winwin’s head ���polite”.

Ducking his head and covering his eyes with his too-long fringe, Winwin handed his phone to you, mumbling something about you taking a photo of them.

A wide grin spread across your face. “Of course!” You cheekily took a picture of them, watching the way Winwin immediately eased up, putting one hand around the girl’s shoulder, holding the bouquet in his other hand. The girl threw up a peace sign and you snapped the shot, returning the phone to Winwin.

“I hope to see you around!” The girl told him, waving before running off, and you nudged Winwin while raising your eyebrows teasingly.

“Senior, huh?”

Winwin buried his face in his palms. “Please don’t call me that!”

“Who is she, anyway?”

“One of my juniors. She came up to me after our performance, said she admired me a lot, and since then she’s been kind of vocal about her crush on me.”

“Ah.” You nodded in understanding. “She seems like a nice girl.”

Winwin shrugged. “I guess. She’s not my type.”

“I thought she wasn’t your type?” you asked, recalling the conversation the two of you had had. Winwin rubbed the back of his neck nervously in response.

“I thought so too.”

You let out a snort, just as the distant clapping in the audience died off and Suzy ran onstage. “Well, you’d best put on a show for her then.”

The curtains slowly parted, and Suzy began reciting her lines, while Winwin stared straight at the spot where Ningning presumably was. “You too,” he replied. “Chenle’s there too.”

It definitely wasn’t nerve-wracking to hear that.

You were definitely cool and collected when your turn to go onstage came, and you did a dramatic cartwheel into the scene, just like you had practised many times before. The blocking that had been drilled into you by Johnny's constant tireless corrections and hours of effort had ingrained itself into your muscles kept you from crashing into anyone, dancing around the “guards” onstage in an intricate choreography that had been practised ceaselessly.

For once, you were grateful for having gotten a role where you didn’t have to speak, schooling your face into the exaggerated expressions you had spent hours practising in the mirror. Your body was your medium, conveying a message without words, moving all over the stage, managing to interrupt dialogues comically without having to deliver a punchline.

You no longer cared about how foolish the costume looked, concerned only with how the play worked as a whole, determined to give your best. Even if that meant acting as a monkey, ignoring the audience’s laughter. It was a testament to how well you were playing the role, you reminded yourself. Their laughter wasn't an indication of how bad you were. Rather, it was the exact opposite.

The two hours passed in a flash, with intermission as your sole break in between. In the dressing room, you had time to catch your breath, drinking water and going into the green room for a bite of the sausage buns that had been prepared beforehand.

Before you knew it, thunderous applause was sounding, your sweaty hands holding tightly onto your friends as you took your final bow. A wide smile broke across your face, triumphant and ecstatic, filled with pure, unadulterated pride.

You had completed it, the play that you had been working so hard for for months.

It was finally over.

The dressing rooms were a mess, with people poking their heads in everywhere. Johnny walked through the corridor in his suit, a proud smile dancing across his lips as he hugged people and shook their hands, congratulating all of you on a wonderful show.

Hasty hands plunged through door cracks, holding costumes and water bottles and other paraphernalia. Winwin poked his head into your dressing room, duffel bag slung on his shoulder, casting a glance at your almost-empty room. Most of the actors were in a hurry to meet their parents, but your and Winwin’s parents weren’t watching the show, so you took your time to pack everything back in your bag.

“C’mon, Y/n, hurry up!”

“What for? Everyone else is having a meal with their parents, but I’m not.”

Winwin clenched his teeth and looked over his shoulder. “Chenle, remember?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Oh. Right. That singular name had you zipping up your own backpack, grabbing your phone off the counter, and staring at your stage makeup in the mirror.

“I look like a clown,” you complained, as Winwin dragged you outside and up the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t care.” Winwin wasn’t paying attention to you, though, too busy scanning the crowd to take a good look at you.

“There!” You followed Winwin’s finger to where Chenle stood, holding a bouquet in his right hand, his other hand tucked into his pocket as he listened to Jisung. He was dressed in a sweater and black slacks, a stark contrast to the casual clothing you were used to seeing him in, and you felt your chest tighten.

He looked up just as you appeared in front of him, eyes sparkling, one hand tightly clutching your bag so it wouldn’t fall off your shoulder. He took the sight of you in, your heart pounding when he didn’t speak, until he finally said, “You looked better as Abu.”

What? You let out the breath you were holding, about to curse him out, when he laughed, that high-pitched giggle that you had grown accustomed to hearing.

“You should see the look on your face! Here, this is for you.” He pressed the bouquet into your hands, and you received it thankfully, admiring its beauty.

Next to you, you were vaguely aware of Winwin accepting Ningning’s hug, and she handed him a rose that he held gently in his hand, turning to you. With his eyebrows raised high, he looked pointedly at Chenle, silently asking if you were going out to dinner with him.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to get ramen?” You looked down at your white shirt, cringing inwardly, but nodded anyway.

“Sounds good.”

Renjun glanced knowingly at Jisung, teasingly saying, “Good job on today, Y/n. You did well.”

You nodded absently, maintaining eye contact with Chenle, and Jisung nudged Renjun subtly. “What do you say we dip after tonight? Maybe give them some space?”

Renjun nodded in relief. “And here I was scared you’d never catch on.”

The four of you walked towards Renjun’s car, and as you slid into the backseat, you slipped your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor. Once your seatbelt was fastened, you began toying with the flower petals, and Chenle pointed his thumb at it. “Renjun chose those, and it’s a gift from all of us. A token of congratulations.”

“Oh.”

You were sure the disappointment was evident through your voice, because Chenle’s lip curled up into something resembling a smirk.

He leaned over, hand pressed into the middle seat separating you, close enough for you to smell the gel he had used in his hair and the cologne he had sprayed. 

“Why do you sound disappointed? Could it be that you were expecting a gift from me?”

Your brain short-circuited.

You moved away from him, squishing yourself against the window, croaking out a tentative “no”, only causing his smirk to deepen as he backed away, glancing at his phone. “That’s too bad, then,” he remarked, offhandedly adding, “Because I did get you a gift.”

Renjun cleared his throat, making eye contact with you through the mirror before saying, “Seriously, Lele, why are you like this? Stop teasing Y/n.”

“Their reactions are just too entertaining,” Chenle replied.

It was true. Your ears were as red as a tomato, and your cheeks were hot. You averted your eyes, studiously staring out the window until Jisung turned around in the passenger seat and beckoned you to come closer.

“He acts very confident, but he’s nervous too,” Jisung whispered.

“I heard that. I'm not nervous,” Chenle called.

“Yeah, right. I saw you psyching yourself up before the performance earlier. Who’re you trying to fool?” Jisung retaliated, immediately turning on Chenle.

The latter smiled sheepishly, turning away from you and facing the window.

“...and now he’s sulking,” Jisung announced, to which Chenle flipped him off, causing Renjun to laugh, lightening the atmosphere.

“Seriously, though. Don't be fooled by him,” Jisung stage-whispered to you. You shot him a knowing grin and nodded.

Renjun pulled into the parking lot, and you got out of the car, trailing after them.

That was, until you came to a fancy restaurant. Chenle was ahead of everyone else, but you tugged on his sleeve, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Chenle,” you whispered. “I’m not dressed for this.” You gestured at yourself, forcing him to take a good look at what you were wearing, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s wrong? I don't get it, you look fine.”

“I’m dressed in a T-shirt and pants! This is the kind of place you wear a blazer to! Or at the very least, a collared, long-sleeved shirt!” you whisper-yelled.

“Okay, firstly, calm down. Look at what I'm wearing. Look at what Renjun and Jisung are wearing. None of us are dressed formally, alright? Secondly, you look perfectly fine dressed the way that you are. Thirdly, I reserved a room. With a door.” He paused to let it sink in. “So no one is going to look inside and judge you for what you’re wearing, okay?”

“I just feel like you should have told me,” you muttered.

“Y/n, darling, do you even hear yourself? How could I have told you? It’s a surprise! Telling you would ruin the whole point of a surprise.”

You would have retorted, but the pet name that he had called you made you too flustered to respond. You pressed your lips together and looked down to hide the growing blush on your cheeks as you nodded. “M’kay.”

“Okay,” Chenle repeated, opening his hand for you to take. When you didn’t notice, he slipped his hand into yours, tugging you towards the counter. “I have a reservation for four under Mr Zhong.”

“Right this way, sir.” A waiter held several menus in his hand as he directed you to follow him, weaving through the restaurant.

“Keep your head up,” Chenle murmured softly. “It’ll take their attention away from your clothes.”

You inwardly said a prayer that the colour of your cheeks had gone back to normal, lifting your chin and doing your best to mimic Chenle’s confident strides and the relaxed gait of his walk. His grip on your hand tightened momentarily, and just as quickly as he had squeezed your hand, he let it go, smiling at you reassuringly.

“Here’s your room, sir.”

The four of you headed into the room, removing your shoes before sitting cross-legged on the rattan mat.

Chenle handed out the menus, and you took your time to look through it, trying not to think too hard about the price of the food as you looked through it nervously. When no one spoke, you gently tapped Jisung on the shoulder.

”Jisung?” He looked up, and you asked, “Um, what should I get?”

“Why’re you asking me?” he asked with a disbelieving huff. “Ask Chenle.”

“Ask me what?”

“… Nevermind.”

Chenle looked up from the menu, narrowing his eyes. Renjun stood, jerking his head to the side, and Jisung subtly excused himself. You looked at them, confused, but Chenle’s gaze remained trained on you.

”Y/n, are you okay?”

You opened your mouth, about to speak, then closed it again. You rarely found yourself at a loss for words, but at the moment you had no way to express yourself. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for the effort Chenle was putting in, but you simply weren’t used to it.

Chenle’s expression softened. “Shall we go back home?“

You hesitated, licking your lips anxiously. Then, you nodded.

”Okay. Let’s go, darling.”

The door handle jiggled as you stood up, and Renjun and Jisung stood awkwardly in the door frame, and Chenle waved them over. “We’re going, enjoy your dinner.”

When they said nothing, he sighed. “Yes, I’ll pay for it.”

Renjun grinned. “Thanks, Lele!”

You only realised that your bag with all your costumes were still in Renjun’s car when you passed the carpark and Chenle didn’t slow down, but the way he slipped his hand into yours made it hard to focus on anything else. You decided that would be a problem for another time.

The restaurant turned out to be near the apartment building, so you and Chenle took a nice, long stroll through the neighbourhood, his gaze fixed on you while you looked anywhere but at his face: the asphalt, the stars, the trees casting creepy shadows on the pavement.

You paid attention to the way the soles of your shoes sank under you with each step, listening closely to the sound of Chenle’s steady breathing and the feel of his fingers between yours, thumb rubbing circles against the back of your hand.

“Y/n.” When he said your name, everything else went silent—from the crickets chirping to the wind rustling through leafy trees, the world fell quiet until all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and the thumping of your heart.

“Chén lè.” The silence was excruciating, his name falling from your lips like a promise, a question, an offer all at once. Spelled out in the two careful syllables, pronounced perfectly in the same tones he’d introduced himself in.

He tugged on your hand, pulling you into his embrace, burying your head against his shoulder. There you stayed, tilting your head to the side so you could admire the view of him, the moon casting shadows on his side profile.

“I like you.”

Chenle smiled, and you could feel the way his lips curved up when his jaw moved against your head. “I know.”

“Since when?”

“Since you called me ‘cute’ the first time we met.”

“No. Way.” You pulled away, scouring his eyes for answers. “You’re kidding.”

He smirked. “I’m not.”

“You heard that?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”

Oh, hell. You buried your face as deep into his jacket as it would go, the fluffy material muffling your embarrassed mumbling. Chenle patted your hair, still smiling.

”Don’t worry.” When you didn’t move, he continued, “I like you too.”

“Since when?”

“Since the time you woke me up in the middle of the night, stumbling into your apartment, crashing against the gate and falling to your knees. You broke your own plant that time, the one that you keep outside the apartment, did you know that?”

“The one you gave me?” you asked, horrified.

”No, the other one. The one you bought like a month after. Anyway, I cleaned up the broken pot and the spilt soil by the light of my phone torchlight while you watched me, your sleep-deprived self blinking away sleep. That’s when I knew.”

Chenle leaned away from you, tilting your chin upwards, whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, moving in to press his lips against yours, wrists behind his neck. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you tightly as his lips moved against yours, soft and tentative and warm.

You sighed when he pulled away, causing him to quirk an eyebrow and ask, “That bad?”

“No,” you murmured, pressing kisses along his jaw. “That good.”

You would have continued kissing him, but he only grinned cheekily at you, moving your wrists away and interlacing his fingers with yours.

Chenle held onto your hand the entire way back, only letting go when you needed to dig into your pocket for your keys. The plant that he had replaced for you still sat on your doorstep next to your shoes, and it held a whole new meaning for you when you left your shoes on the rack and headed inside.

Chenle immediately noted the succulent resting on your window sill, but he said nothing until you stopped short in the middle of the living room.

”Ro…ses?”

The roses had been left in a vase on your dining table with a little bit of help from Winwin, who had asked you for your keys a couple of days before. You tenderly touched the velvet petals, struck speechless by the thoughtful gesture.

Chenle opened a small box, lifting your wrist up so he could fasten a bracelet around your wrist.

”Do you know what shǒu liàn means?” You shook your head. “It means bracelet in Mandarin. But the words for protecting your love have the same pronunciation. Shǒu liàn. Your name is engraved on the band, and there’s space for more charms,” he pointed out.

”There’s a pizza slice,” you commented. He nodded proudly. “And a monkey.” He nodded again, his proud smile growing wider.

“Do you like it?”

You swore you could hear him holding his breath as he waited for your answer.

”Not as much as I like you.”

”Oh, I know.”

And there was nothing else for you to do but to wipe that confident smile off of his face with a peck to his lips that left him blushing.

- fin -

series masterlist

[myownwholewildworld]

WHEN THE MOON HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot

main masterlist | read on ao3 | part 2 pairing: javier peña x f!reader. summary: you meet javier in a café during your sabbatical. you see the man that no one does ― the one who is broken, defeated, crushed by his time as a DEA agent. so you make it your purpose to shine some light on his life, one pumpkin spice latte at a time. -or- the story of how you two fall head over heels for each other c: a/n: hiya! been wanting to write for javi p for a while, but was afraid to take the plunge because it's been a hot minute since i last watched narcos. anyways, this fic is for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge which i found really inspiring, thank you for hosting this sweet challenge! first time taking part in a challenge too, whoop whoop! as always, all interactions welcome, would love to hear your thoughts. take care! <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). post season 3 of narcos, possibly slightly off-canon? idk. fluff, loads of it! angst, comfort. mentions of ptsd, panic attacks and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. trip to the pumpkin patch to cheer our sweet javi up. reader's pov only (v unlike me). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 6.8k (this was gonna be a short drabble... smh) divider by @saradika-graphics

Friday, 18th September 1998

“What can I get for you today, gorgeous?” was your go-to sentence with every client.

Even when your own personal demons stalked you at night, you made your best effort to get out of bed every day and come to work. Working in a café was not in your plans for this year, but a heart-shattering breakup had rocked your world so bad, you needed out.

So, you took a sabbatical from your job in finance, hugged your parents and waved goodbye to your friends. It would only be for one year ― hopefully enough to get your life together and reorganise your priorities.

That was why you moved to Laredo two months ago, to have a fresh start with a blank slate ― where no one knew you and you knew no one. A month into your new life, you realised you needed to do something or otherwise you would go crazy. So you took a waiting job at one of the local cafés. You were just paid the minimum wage, but you had enough savings to live comfortably for a year without any issues.

It was only mid-September ― technically still summer. However, the unusually cold weather made it look otherwise. Fall had appeared sooner this year, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You loved autumn ― its duller hues, the crispy air, the browning leaves, the cozy sweaters, burying yourself under blankets on the couch while channel surfing. It was, by far, your favourite season.

“A pumpkin spice latte, please.” The masculine voice that spoke back to you was plain, deflated ― it lacked… something, but you were not able to pinpoint what exactly.

Your eyes moved from your notebook to the man in front of you, sat at the one of the most isolated tables. A few strands of wavy, brown hair fell across his forehead, the ends caressing the metal frame of the yellow-tinted, aviator sunglasses that shielded his eyes. ‘Brown too,’ you thought. ‘Sad and brown.’

Even if he was not looking at you, you could simply tell. His demeanour, his posture, the way he averted his eyes ― the man spoke of sadness and hurt, of something dark and gut-wrenching you could not even fathom.

And he was alone ― it was obvious he was not waiting on anyone.

“Anything else?” You asked, your throat suddenly dry.

He shook his head no without a word. His hands were placed on top of the table, his fingers intertwined while his thumbs circled each other. It was a restrained yet impatient gesture, as if he could not wait to be left alone.

“Could I interest you in a slice of pumpkin cake? It’s got cream cheese frosting. Shouldn’t say it myself because I baked it, but it’s delicious, I promise.” You tried to tempt him; a soft smile directed at him. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house.”

The curvature of your lips wavered when his eyes slowly drifted up towards you and locked on yours. They definitely had a sorrowful tint to them ― as if he had seen too much, been witness to too many unspeakable things. His eyes were a window to a crushed soul, that much you could perceive.

His lips formed a flat line as he looked away and through the window to his right.

“Why not then…” His reply was not rude but charged with something unsettling. Something that made you swallow hard.

But you were still smiling back at him. Maybe the guy was having a rough day, a rough week or a rough month. A rough lifetime? Showing him kindness was not going to change his view on the world around him, but if it helped, even a tiny bit, you would smile until the corners of your mouth hurt.

“Alrighty, shouldn’t be long!” You scribbled the command on your notebook, the tip of your tongue unconsciously sticking out between your teeth as you did.

You walked back to behind the counter and when you turned around, you saw the man watching your every move. But as soon as he felt caught, he bowed his head down and looked for something in one of his shirt’s pockets. Soon after that, he lighted a cigarette.

Slightly confused, you faced the coffee maker and looked at the recipe card for the pumpkin spice latte. As you started preparing it, one of your colleagues walked past you.

“Pssst, Alejandra!” You called her in a whisper.

The girl looked around her, unsure if someone had said her name or if it was her imagination playing games.

“Over here”, you waved at her and Alejandra happily trotted towards you.

“Yeah? What’s up? Do you need a hand with that?” She offered her help, as she always did. You were grateful to have such good coworkers in your shift. It was a contrasting experience in comparison to your finance job.

“No, I think I’m okay. Got a question of different nature though,” you ventured pressing your lips together. “The guy over there, sat in the corner…” Alejandra turned her head around to look and stuck her head out, going on her tiptoes and everything. “Hey! Be a bit less obvious, dammit!” You panicked, shaking her forearm as she giggled.

“What about him?” She asked with a cocked brow.

“Who is he? Not seen him before ‘round here.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but Alejandra’s raised eyebrow told you she was seeing through your bullshit.

“Chucho’s son. Javier.”

“Chucho who?” It seemed like everyone knew everyone in this town, except for you.

“Chucho Peña, he owns a farm on the outskirts of town. That’s his son Javier. He worked for the DEA and has moved back in with his old man a couple of weeks ago. Rumour has it he was fired. Apparently, he was caught doing drugs on the job, can you believe it?” Alejandra didn’t hold back on the gossip. “The same drugs he was confiscating from the narcos, taking them all for himself. Some say he was even selling them back to them and making good profit.”

You knew to take rumours with a very big pinch of salt. Sure, there was corruption in the DEA as in any other governmental organisation, but he did not seem to be that kind of guy. Not that you knew him, anyway.

“Not even his childhood friends are speaking to him now, so if I were you, I’d keep my distance.” She warned you in a hush. “He’s trouble, that dude.”

That broke your heart a little. Javier looked lonely enough ― learning that he was truly on his own resonated loud with you. Being branded a misfit by his own community had to be a hard pill to swallow.

“Mhmm. Sure thing”, was your only reply. Alejandra tilted her head to one side, studying your blank expression. “I was just curious, that’s it.”

“If you say so. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Her veiled counsel hung above your head as you resumed the task of preparing his coffee.

Five minutes later you were done and walking back to where Javier was patiently waiting. As you approached his table, a guy pushed back his chair to stand up and hit you hard. You lost your balance, almost tripping with the legs of the chair. Your right hip slammed against the edge of an empty chair and prevented you from falling ― you managed to save the coffee, but the plate with the cake slice slid off your fingers and shattered against the floor.

“Hey! Watch it!”

For a second you thought it was the gentleman reprimanding you, but you quickly recognised the voice ― Javier had stood up, fast as thunder, and his index finger was accusatorily pointing to the man who had mindlessly pushed his chair back.

Before the situation escalated, you straightened out your back and planted a hand on Javier’s forearm to stop him from tackling the guy.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing. I wasn’t looking, it’s my bad.” You quickly tried to diffuse the situation, tension building up between the two men.

“No, it’s not.” Javier replied between gritted teeth. “This asshole should have seen you walking by.”

Your eyes widened as they flew from one man’s face to the other’s. Javier’s outburst was not welcomed by the other guy, who was clenching his fists at his sides. You put the surviving coffee down on a table nearby and placed yourself in the middle of both men, arms extended.

“No need to take this so seriously, it was just a bit of cake, and I’m not hurt.” You said looking at Javier with imploring eyes. You did not need this kind of trouble.

‘He’s trouble’, Alejandra had said. Should you listen?

“Please, accept my apologies.”

“I ain’t paying you shit now, treating one of your regular clients like this.” The man barked back, fuming.

Javier took a step forward and his chest pressed against the palm of your hand. You did not expect to feel his warm skin under yours ― a few unbuttoned buttons on his shirt gave you a peek of his hairy chest.

He clenched his jaw so hard you could see his muscles straining.

“Of course, of course. I’ll pay for it, it’s not a problem.”

Huffing and puffing, the man signalled to his companion and they both walked out the door, mumbling something you couldn’t hear but could imagine.

Slowly you turned to face Javier, whose eyes burnt like gasoline. You didn’t know if he was trouble, but he was definitely danger.

“It’s alright, relax. I’m sorry about the cake, I’ll get you another one. It’s on me, I kinda forced you to buy it.” You offered, thinking he was still mad, while you knelt down to clean the mess with some tissues you had grabbed from the table besides you.

“I’ll pay for it. For both slices.” He replied succinctly, squatting down by your side to help you out.

“You don’t need to”, you quickly said, watching him on the corner of your eye.

His expression softened a bit, and his lips turned into a grimace.

“I do. I think I made things worse for you.” You thought the same but didn’t dare to voice your opinion.

You were customer-facing and could hear your manager in your mind saying ‘The customer is always right. Treat ‘em like royalty’. Bullshit that, really, but was part of the job.

Once the mess was cleared, you gave Javier his coffee and ran back to the counter to cut another slice for him. This time, as you sauntered towards him, you were aware of your surroundings. Luckily, there were no more inconveniences, and the cake slice made it safe and sound to Javier’s table.

“Thanks. And sorry again.” He apologised, his tone throaty with truth. He really meant it.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly.” You grinned at him as you gently squeezed his shoulder without thinking. Javier’s eyes quickly darted down at the touch ― you could swear he flinched. “Oh― S-sorry”, you stammered, pulling your hand back to break contact.

Javier just hmphed and turned his attention to his drink and food.

With your brows knitting together, you made your way back to the counter. From time to time, you would check on him from a distance while serving other patrons. ‘Just making sure he likes it’, you told yourself every time.

After half an hour, Javier got up and walked towards the register.

“How was it?” You asked with a gleaming smile.

“It was good.” Surprisingly, you were slightly disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. “Really good”, he added a second later, as if he had picked up on your disillusionment.

The smile came back to your mouth.

“Well, I’m glad.” You said while you typed in his order to produce the bill. “It’s $9.42.”

“How much was the… gentleman’s” he spat out the word, “bill? I want to cover it too.”

That offer took you completely off guard, and you started shaking your hands and head at the same time.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, I’ll pay for it. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I insist. Please.” He punctuated every word. “How much was it?”

“Uh, mhmm…” You didn’t want him to take the blow. Maybe he had made the situation worse, but at the end of the day, it was the other guy’s fault, not his. “Are you sure?”

He simply nodded.

“It was $25.37. So the total would be… $34.79.” You composed a pitiful face ― it was a lot of money for a coffee and a cake slice.

Javier handed you a $50 note and then said, “Keep the change.”

With your mouth agape with surprise and not really understanding his generosity, you looked down and extended your hand almost unwillingly.

“But this is a lot…” You started to complain. However, when you looked up at him, you only saw his back.

Javier was already walking out of the café before you could say anything else.

Friday, 25th September 1998

Exactly a week later at ten past five in the afternoon, Javier Peña entered the café you worked at. Your brows furrowed, trying to recall last Friday. Had he gotten there at the same time too? He sat at the same table, same chair as well. The man was a creature of habit, a wild one at that.

Sooner rather than later, you were in front of him, notebook and pencil on hand, with a cheery smile.

“What can I get for you today, gorgeous?” You asked, hoping he would catch the joke ― you also followed a routine.

The joke went over his head. He looked less taciturn than a week before, albeit he still had this aura around him screaming to be left alone. Javier leaned back on his chair and this time, he did make eye contact, unlike last.

A slight yet noticeable change.

“A pumpkin spice latte, please.” This time round, his voice was a bit livelier although still crude.

“Anything else?” Your smile turned crooked as your eyes locked on his.

You saw a sparkle in them, a brightness that flickered under the fluorescent lights of the café. A hint of mischief, you thought too. He definitely had seen the joke now.

“Do you still have pumpkin cake? The one with cream cheese frosting?” He went off script, which made your grin grow bigger.

A creature of habit, but adaptable.

You nodded, writing the order down ― your tongue peeking through your teeth in full concentration.

“Freshly baked, I did it this morning.”

“If it’s half as good as last week’s, I might have to start coming over every Friday then.” A lopsided grin fought its way to his lips, although it didn’t stay there for long.

That brief gesture had transformed his expression, softening the hard edges of his jaw and smoothing out the wrinkles around his covered eyes. You noticed he still had his aviator glasses on, even though it was cloudy outside.

You were not prepared for his compliment, so you just tittered.

“If that’s the case, I’ll make sure to bake one every Friday as to not disappoint you”, you replied jokingly, albeit you truly considered it.

The shadow of a grimace danced on Javier’s mouth. The beginning of another smile, perhaps. Could you be so lucky that he would gift you with two grins in a row? That would be unheard of.

It wasn’t like you were watching him, but you were. Just a few glances here and there though, nothing too obvious. You did not believe in such things, but it seemed like his demons were following him wherever he went. Whatever darkness accompanied him, had a tight grip on him. You wondered what had happened to Javier to give off such an uneasy feeling.

The man was the epitome of wariness ― always looking above his shoulders, his hand tightly latching on to the buckle of his belt. Javier Peña looked like a man who always had a foot in the door, ready to run at the slightest inconvenience. And just because of that, you should be chary, keeping your distance. But it was exactly that, his raw loneliness, what pulled you into his orbit.

You were a fixer, and Javier was broken.

You were a puzzler, and Javier was a puzzle someone had tossed aside ― all the little pieces spread in disarray, unclassified, waiting to be put back together.

Question was, could he be fixed or was he shattered beyond repair?

Friday, 2nd October 1998

“Let me guess. One pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake?”

Javier’s sunglasses reflected the light off the ceiling, his eyes catching a sliver of it. His fingers drummed against the table, his pearly white teeth peeking through the brief smile his lips composed just for you.

“It’s almost like you already know me”, he jested, flattening the palm of his hand against the table and sliding it off until his fingers wrapped around the edge.

That simple motion had you in a trance for a second, your mind blank.

“I do know a few things about you.” It slipped off your tongue before you could refrain yourself.

Once you realised what you had just said, your eyes slightly widened, and you unconsciously chewed your bottom lip.

“Do you?” Javier tilted his head to one side, his kempt moustache wrinkling with curiosity.

You nodded slowly and he cocked a brow, enticing you to continue.

“I’ve noticed you like a routine, always showing up at the same time, ordering the same thing, sitting on the same table, the same chair. And I know you love fall, because why would you be ordering a pumpkin spice latte every Friday since mid-September? With two sugar cubes. And when you attack the cake, you first eat the frosting, then the rest. That’s weird.”

You could have left it there so you wouldn’t sound like a stalker, but once you started talking, you could not stop.

“I know you feel like something, or someone, is following you. I know you always keep an eye on the door, making sure the exit is clear. I know you never turn your back to it either ― and that’s probably why you are, many a times, reaching for a gun in your belt that is no longer there. I know that you are lonely, but that loneliness is self-imposed. I know you don’t like being touched.”

You had definitely paid Javier Peña too much attention. Your last words did not really sink in until Javier’s amused expression transformed into knitting brows and a fine line for lips.

Had you gone too far in your analysis? Why would you say all those things to a complete stranger? When your slip of tongue dawned on you, you covered your mouth, embarrassed of yourself.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to… I just― I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why―” Your words came out in a slurred rush, incoherent and unfinished sentences got stuck to the back of your throat through all that stammering.

He leaned back, his arm loosely draped around the empty chair to his right, near the window. Javier then clicked his tongue.

“Well, I had it coming. I did ask, didn’t I?” His reaction surprised you ― you really thought he was going to up and leave because of your insolence.

You let go a sigh of relief, followed by a nervous chuckle as you hugged the notebook close to your chest.

“Was I… too far off?” You ventured, biting down your bottom lip again. Maybe you shouldn’t push your luck.

Javier took a long minute to respond, his eyes scanning every square inch on your face, as if he was trying to assess whether he could confide in you or not. You found yourself hoping he did.

“No, not really.” He conceded, “I do love fall.”

That hint of mischief you saw a week ago twinkled in his eyes again. Under that sombre and stay-away-from-me bearing, there was another Javier. One who could be mischievous and fun. One that you had been itching to know since he first set foot on the café.

This time was your turn to slant your head to one side, crinkling your lips as you attempted to discern if you were wrong about the rest. Was he playing with you?

“And the rest?” You pushed out of curiosity, knowing full well you shouldn’t take such liberty.

Javier shrugged, his shoulders almost touching his ears. Was he trying to hide a smile?

“I do have one more thing to add to my order.” The change of subject told you he did not trust you that much.

A pinch of disappointment settled in your chest. But you knew you shouldn’t feel this way, you didn’t really know him. For all you knew, he could be a serial killer on the lookout for his next victim and being a DEA agent was just a cover.

“Oh, yes, sorry. What else would you like?” You concocted a smile, but this time it felt forced ― too tense on the corners of your mouth.

Your sight was fixed on your notepad, not daring to glance down at him again. If you had, you would have seen his look of confusion. But you didn’t.

“Another pumpkin spice latte.”

You could not hide your surprise, so inevitably you asked, “Are you waiting for someone today?”

As soon as that question abandoned your mouth, you wished it back, mortified at your audacity. It was none of your business. And you didn’t care. Of course you didn’t.

“Yeah, you. You finish your shift in” he looked at his wristwatch, “fifteen minutes, right?”

You were left gobsmacked. Of all the things you had imagined he would say, that would not be an option at all.

“Uh― Ah, y-yeah?”

“See, you’re not the only one who is observant ‘round here. I do know pumpkin spice latte is your favourite drink too.” Javier explained so matter-of-factly, it would have been impossible to correct him. And he was right, anyway. “So, what do you say?”

You had not really given him an answer and he was obviously waiting.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.” You repeated yourself, a wide smile smoothing out your lips, your cheeks slightly blushed. “I’d like that.”

Friday, 30th October 1998

Every Friday for the last four weeks had been exactly the same, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Come ten past five, Javier would walk in through the door and sit down on the same table after his therapy session just a few blocks away. You would happily trot towards him, notebook on hand ― just a pleasantry, considering you knew his order by heart: two pumpkin spice lattes, one slice of pumpkin cake, two spoons. In fact, you had it written down before you reached him.

And then, every Friday, he would wait for the clock to mark half past five, coffee almost untouched and the cake slice still pristine on the plate. You would tell your teammates that you would be closing down and that they were free to go. You would rush through your tasks to get everything done before the clock read forty past five. A minute later the “Closed” sign would be hanging on the front door.

And then you would sit down with Javier, both lazily sipping away at your coffees and nibbling at the cake, while you shared your hopes, your fears, your ambitions, your struggles, your likes and dislikes, your pasts. His heavily charged with trauma and anguish, yours full of heartbreak and regrets.

You had learnt all about his time in Colombia ― the rise of the Medellin cartel, the fall of Pablo Escobar, the peak of the Cali cartel and the corruption deeply embedded in the Colombian government. And how it all shaped who he was now, how it all shattered him and his view of the world. All the things he had seen that still haunted him to this day, and how badly he wanted it all to go away. How gruesomely tortured he was by it all.

He had split himself open in front of you over the course of the last month, pouring his soul out while trying to detangle the mess his mind was in. And you could not help but feel for him, cry for and with him. His words had reached further down inside you than you were really aware of.

And while he was getting professional help for his PTSD, you liked to think that your long, deep conversations helped him interiorise part of the trauma, come to terms with it as much as he could. He had not said it out loud, not really thanked you either, but he didn’t need to ― you just knew.

You could not have refrained yourself from loving him even if you had tried. Over the course of the last few weeks, you had fallen for him with every detail you discovered about him. But your friendship had developed so quickly and so profoundly, you were afraid of ruining it. Ruining the only real connection you had felt in a long time.

It felt like the moment for love confessions was long gone ― it had slipped through your fingers without you even realising. And now it was too late to change it. Perhaps it was better this way ― you treasured Javier’s friendship more than anything else. You would not bargain with it, not if it meant there was a teeny tiny chance of losing him. You were not a gambler, not with the people you loved.

“I think you should pick up a camera again, see how it feels. Ignore what your parents have always told you for a moment. You don’t have to make a decision now, or ever, really.” Javier encouraged you, his palm flat against the surface, extended towards you, resting halfway through the table.

How badly you wanted to reach for him, to caress the back of his hand with your fingertips. But you didn’t.

“You’re right. It’s all I always wanted to do for a living. My job in finance, it was just their idea, really. They kept telling me that I’d die penniless on the side of a road if I chose photography as my career path.” You sighed, the spice of your coffee filling your sense of smell as you tipped the cup to your lips. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” You asked, an idea forming in your mind.

“No, I was just gonna help my dad on the farm.” Javier replied, a certain interest tinging his voice as he tilted his head ― his chocolate eyes holding your gaze as if it was a staring contest.

You had never met him outside the café, but you were friends. Surely there was nothing weird about meeting up with him tomorrow.

“Well, I was just thinkin’. Brought my camera and equipment when I moved. Tomorrow’s Halloween, could go to the pumpkin patch outside of town to take some pictures. I love taking pictures on fall, the colours are just beautiful. Would you want to join me?” A shy smile hovered over your lips, your heart slightly racing.

Javier’s eyes lingered on your face for an eternal second before he sipped at his coffee. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked ― you knew he didn’t feel comfortable with open spaces, not yet. He had told you about his panic attacks when he returned home and found himself in the open, exposed.

Suddenly, you felt so damn insensitive.

“Sorry, I know y―”

“I’d like that”, he cut you off before you could take the offer back.

Inevitably, your heart swelled, warmth pouring all over your body with his acceptance.

Saturday, 31st October 1998

The car’s door slammed behind you after you rummaged through the backseat to get your backpack. It was full to the brim, as you had taken a few of your lenses, a tripod, a flash you were positive you wouldn’t need, and a few other bits and bobs.

“Sorry!” You apologised as your head buried between your shoulders.

God forbid you made a dent on Javier’s sparkling new Toyota Camry. Well, you didn’t know if it was new, but the car was impeccable inside and out. You were relieved he had offered to pick you up, otherwise he would definitely have judged you for the state your car was in.

“‘S alright.” He muttered, but on the corner of your eye you saw him smoothing out his hand around the edge of the door, ensuring you had not damaged it. “What are you carrying there anyway? Looks like you’re goin’ campin’, pequeña (little one).”

You snickered, Javier by your side in the blink of an eye. So close you could almost feel the warmth he irradiated, even in the crispy, spooky air.

“Oh, ‘s nothing, just a few things here and there that I hope to use later. Might need your help though.” You looked at him askance, measuring his reaction to your petition.

“My help? Mhmm.” He mumbled, almost laconic.

“It’s not too bad. And your aviator sunglasses will come in handy.” You laughed at the confused expression in front of you. “I’m not spoiling it.”

Javier’s lopsided smile made a brief appearance, but it suddenly vanished.

A backfiring noise from an exhaust pipe a few yards away made him flinch, his whole body visibly tautened ― his posture went rigid, his eyes frantically searching his surroundings while his right hand flew to his belt in a vain attempt to grip a gun that wasn’t there.

And then you saw the panic building up in his shielded irises. Even through the yellow tint you watched them darken, so opaque his pupils were indistinguishable from the brown. You could swear he had stopped breathing too, because his chest had not budged one inch.

Quickly you realised what was happening ― the sound from the car nearby had triggered Javier, bringing him back to one of his nightmares. His fight-or-flight response was taking over him, his mind suddenly replaying his time back in Colombia.

When you wrapped your firm hand around his wrist, you could feel his wild pulse under your fingertips ― his heart was beating so hard, it seemed like it was looking for the way out of his torso.

“Javier,” you called his name, giving him a gentle squeeze. He did not respond. “Javi”, you raised your voice over the cacophony on the background, your fingers tighter around his wrist, jerking him close to you.

Slowly he turned to look at you, long eyelashes fluttering, and it took him a moment to gradually come out of his daze.

With your free hand you rubbed his left shoulder, the first time you had been this nigh.

“Hey, Javi, are you okay?” You whispered, his eyes slowly drifting down to your mouth, as he was trying to read your lips rather than listening to your words. “It’s okay, you’re back home. You’re safe. You’re here with me, in a pumpkin patch just outside of Laredo. You’re safe, Javi.” You reassured him in a low voice, the abbreviated version of his name falling from your lips like honey.

You hadn’t realised how scared you were for him until he finally breathed. So did you. Your heart was pounding. Then he nodded, and you thought you saw a sliver of embarrassment in his eyes.

You wanted to comfort him so bad, tell him it was fine to be vulnerable ― but words escaped you, your chest heavy with affliction. The only thing you could do was wrapping your arms around his neck and bring him in for a hug. It only took him a second to swathe your waist, his face partially buried in the crook of your neck.

A shivering sensation down your spine gave you goosebumps. It felt so good having him this close.

“I’m fine.” He hummed eventually, as you both took an unwilling step back.

“I’m sorry. Truly. If you think this is a bad idea, we can just go back.”

He shook his head no.

“No, it’s alright. Gotta push through it at some point. Rather do it with you than alone.” Your heart melted at his words, almost swooning for him.

A soft smile spread across your lips, palming his forearm again. You could not have enough of his touch, of how his skin felt under yours.

“But if at any point it gets to be too much, you’ll let me know. Promise?”

You stuck your pinky out in front of him, asking him to pinky promise he would.

He returned your smile with a devastating one of his own.

“Promise”, was his reply as his pinky wrapped around yours.

Then you both erupted in laughter.

For the next two hours you walked the whole patch together, taking as many pictures as your camera rolls would allow you. Luckily you brought more than one ― knowing yourself too well, you had brought three rolls.

“Hey, Javi! The golden hour is approachin’!”, you shouted at him, amplifying the volume of your voice by placing one hand on the side of your mouth.

Javier’s head poked out in between a humongous pile of an assortment of pumpkins. He went around it to be by your side in a couple of long strides.

“Is this where my aviator glasses come in handy?” He asked with a smidgen of inquisitiveness.

“Spot on. Come, follow me.” You curled your fingers to emphasize your words and you started walking towards a field further ahead.

It was isolated, the yellow grass up to knee height. There were some dead trees around, black branches peppered around the floor. Reaching towards your back, you untied the tripod from the side and set it up, taking your time, while Javi was right behind you.

“So you’re taking pictures of an empty field?” He asked, befuddled.

You just giggled as you knelt and settled your backpack down on the floor. Unzipped it and jumbled stuff around until you found what you were looking for. Snapping your tongue with delight, you pulled out two white bedsheets and a sunglasses case.

“Ha! Here they are!” You enthusiastically presented the objects to a confused Javi, his hands scrunching one of the bedsheets as you handed it to him.

“I don’t get it. You want me to make a bed out in the wilderness or somethin’?”

Shaking your head no, you laughed at his perplexity.

“No, you silly. We’re going to put them over our heads so we look like ghosts, like so.” And then you proceeded to demonstrate, covering yourself with the bedsheet.

Almost blindly, you took your sunglasses out of their case and placed them on the bridge of your nose and over the bedsheet.

“Voilà!” You extended your arms, showcasing your masterpiece to Javier.

You could barely see him through the linen, but his laughter reached your ears. You couldn’t help but smile wide as you grabbed one of the sides and pulled it up to uncover your face.

“I want you to do the same. I’ll set a timer on the camera, and we run over there.” You pointed to a space between some fallen trunks. “And then we just do some silly poses.”

“…Okay?” The hesitation in his voice was faked, because you could see a grin pinching the corners of his mouth.

“Trust me, it’ll look great. I’m a visionnaire!” You said with confidence as you turned around and set the timer. “Go, come on, run!”

You both sprinted to the specific spot you had directed your camera at, and quickly covered yourselves with the bedsheets. Laughing out loud, you both put the sunglasses over your faces and started posing while the camera clicked away at timed intervals.

Back to back with arms folded; one sitting down on the trunk while the other stood up behind; both hiding behind some dead trees with your heads sticking out; just staying still and very straight looking at the lens.

Even Javi got into it by the end, suggesting a few poses of his own occurrence.

You both were having so much fun, cackling so loud, you had tears pouring over your waterlines. You even bent at your waist, hands against your knees, while you tried to catch a breath. Javi was by your side chortling like a kid without a worry in the world.

You pulled the sheet off you and Javi followed suit. You could tell he also had teared up and that tugged at your heart.

“I wish we could see them now, but we’ll have to wait until I develop them.”

You stepped forward to get to the camera, but you tripped with the bedsheet. Clumsy as always, you waved your arms in a vain attempt to regain balance, and failed ― the grass on the ground hurrying towards your face, or, well― quite the opposite.

When you thought you were going to hit the floor, Javi’s broad hand clasped around your elbow and pushed you up, until your chest flushed with his. His mouth was so close to yours, his lips agape and so inviting, you licked your bottom one as you gauged the situation.

“You okay, pequeña?” His voice was just a hush in the confines of your mind.

Unable to speak due to his proximity, you just nodded as your eyes locked on his. This time there were no sunglasses covering his beautiful orbs ― giving you the opportunity to look into the abyss. His abyss. One you had been wanting to jump into for as long as you had known him.

His free hand rested on the small of your back, pressing you into him while his lips were dangerously close to yours. You could smell the hints of tobacco, the old spice, the sandalwood, all of it hijacking your senses.

Something passed between you two. Something that had been there for a while now; something you had not allowed yourself to see.

Too scared to ruin the friendship you so much cherished. Too frightened to have your heart broken again. Too afraid to make a move and be rejected.

But you didn’t need to.

Javier did.

In slow motion, he bowed his head down until his soft, warm lips ghosted yours. A light caress that made your heart jump a beat. And then he pressed them sweetly against your parted mouth, his tongue testing the waters between your teeth as you let him in.

Draping your arms around his neck, you kissed him fondly, tenderly, with all the love you had been stockpiling for a while. With his hands now on your hips, his thumbs gently rubbed the skin under your tee shirt, while your fingers raked through his hair.

And then, in the background, a clicking sound, then a flash. The kiss came to an end, not without Javi leaving a few chaste pecks on your lips before your mouths untangled.

You pressed your right cheek on his chest, eyeing the camera, and chuckled.

“It’s been taking pictures the whole time.” You told him, looking up at him with your chin against his sternum.

“Good. I’d like to have a memento of this moment, pequeña”, Javi cooed as he leaned back down to press another kiss.

“That makes two of us.” You purred, smiling into his mouth before his tongue sought yours again.

The distant howl of a wolf breached the haziness of the kiss and interrupted you. Only then, you realised that the sun had set down a while ago, and a red moon dominated the sky. The atmosphere was rather eerie, almost spooky.

“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.” You quoted a sentence you had read once. “So maybe the moon has howled, and not a wolf?” That was your attempt at staying here, in your perfect, tiny bubble, a little bit longer.

Javi smiled, brushing his lips against yours.

“I rather not find out. Let’s head back, pequeña.”

He grabbed your hand, your fingers laced together, and pulled you towards the camera, him walking one step ahead of you.

One last click captured the final moment as you both sauntered towards it, hands intertwined, and Javi looking over his shoulder right at you.

[centrally-unplanned]

IRL (In Real Life) - Buffydom Propaganda And The Internet-That-Was

It is 1997. You just got back from the latest Hot Topic run to restock on whatever the most raven-black bomb of Manic Panic they have on the shelves is, so you can do double-duty bleaching your hair in the shower while watching a CRT TV precariously mounted on the lip of your sink. On that TV is the Season 1 finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and you are obsessed. Unfortunately for you, no one else in Bowling Green, Ohio, shares your passion for a CW WB show about vampire hunting teens who purposefully fumble their line deliveries. You are alone, and you have shit you gotta say about it to someone, anyone, who will understand.

Fortunately for you, the marketing team at ye old WB anticipated that their audience would be a bunch of fucking nerds, and boy do they have a solution to your problem! Welcome to the Bronze:

A while back I stumbled upon the inexplicable existence of "IRL (In Real Life)", a 2007 documentary about the community that formed around the aforementioned Buffy fan discussion forum/chatboard. Officially running from around the launch of the show until it switched over to UPN after its fifth season (with the forum dying a dramatic death in the process), The Bronze was a highly active center for the Buffy fandom, which generated several spillovers into real life. In particular, it was famous for the creatives and even actors on the show occasionally posting on the forum, which culminated in members of the community organizing a yearly party in Los Angeles where posters would fly out and be joined by said cast and crew. This documentary charts its culture & history via interviewing an array of its members.

As always, I am not here to give the blow-by-blow; instead, what is the narrative this documentary is trying to sell?

My previous documentary write-up was about nerd culture in the 2010’s; newly ascendant, growing confident in its own values and looking to justify that to itself, wealthy and with a developed enough ecosystem for crowdfunding to create professional, polished documentaries of its own heroes. None of that is true for IRL. Filmed on whatever camcorder/potato hybrid proto-Ebay would cough up from its zero-bid listings in a series of hotel rooms and people’s living rooms in 2003-2004 after the forum had died, this is the era of nerd culture at its most conflicted and insecure; mocked by the mainstream and unsure if it should be proud of that fact or deeply ashamed of it. And this documentary wears this conflict right on its sleeve; one of its opening lines is a confident assurance to the audience of “don’t worry, we aren’t like those nerds”:

Throwing Trekkies under the bus in the process, cold! Particularly given how it proceeds to barely even blink before pivoting to explaining their hobby of running “WITTs”, multi-day-long collaborative roleplays:

You are exactly those Trekkies my dudes; you weren’t just at the devil’s sacrament you were hosting it! "WITT" stands for Whedon Improvisational Theatre Troupe, you can't recover from that guys.

(I love how “dozens” is large by the way - it was for the internet in 2001, right?)

Anyway, beyond documenting the forum and its members, the conclusion this documentary wants you to hold is that the Bronze was a special place of real community, and it is a community of “normal” people, who made real relationships. And in particular, that internet relationships can be just as real as those found in meatspace, that these relationships transcended the digital and entered the physical; and that this is what fandom can be about.

I want to start with the ways that narrative was correct within the context of the time. I can actually explain that Klingon comment! I have one extant interview with the director of the film, Stephanie Tuszynski, and she put her motivation as follows: 

FFN: What made you decide to study Buffy fandom, particularly the Bronze, for your documentary? ST: The idea to do a documentary film about the Bronze actually came to me very early on, because "Trekkies" came out in the late 1990s so I was already a Bronzer at that point. And when I saw it I started throwing things at my television. I was incensed. That wasn't a documentary about the fandom experience, it was "hey let's find the most extreme examples possible and have a freak show!" It infuriated me […] It reinforced every awful stereotype about media fans while purporting to be objective.

It wasn’t a random example - the 1997 documentary Trekkies set the “standard” view of fandom as extremist oddballs, and Tuszynski specifically wanted to counter that. It was the early 2000’s after all, nerd stereotypes were strong, you had to fight them explicitly! In a society where there is strong background hostility to one’s identity, you will attempt to normalize it using known reference points; and certainly the people on these forums were more “normal” than the stereotypes admitted to because that entire binary framework is a dead end.

More importantly to the narrative is the online aspect, “making friends on the internet”. Another find I have is a blog post from a professor who used the film in a class; and in the film’s narrative of “people with no one ‘irl’ to share their hobby with finding friends online” triggered a debate around if the online relationships are “taking away” from in-person relationships that are presumed to be more valuable. A debate that still rages to this day over social media! But the contours were different back then, the internet was presumed to be niche, ancillary, and relationships made online in a completely separate box from “in person” friendships. The documentary goes to great lengths to explain that they were a real community because that idea is so contested. Ironically, they do this by emphasizing that they met up in person, hung out, attended each other's weddings, etc; as if only by meeting up in person could the relationships be validated as real? But you can’t truly fault them for meeting their implicit critics halfway in making their case.

So what can I fault them for?

*****

I was perpetually amused when watching the doc that they included two married couples in the filming, and for both one of the spouses would talk and the other would sit there, in silence, the entire time. Maybe they were members of the community and just not talkers; maybe their lines got cut in post. But what I kept thinking was that they were there selling normality to me; married couples are just inherently less oddball, less threatening, and in the era where “nerd = virgin” just less nerdy. Like with the Klingon line, there is an intentionality to the “just like you” vibe.

Which, as mentioned with the extensive forum roleplay, inevitably breaks down once the reality of forum activity is dug into. And I buried the lede here - you may have seen the title of the “longest” roleplay was “RTBS Soul Restoration Project”, but what does that mean? RTBS was a forum member’s name, and well:

Oh yeah, we are saving our friend from “a fate worse than death: worshiping Britney Spears” - welcome to 2001 baby! This is peak “nerd wars” stuff, the normies hate our shit so we hate the normie shit right back. Which is exactly how nerd culture was in the 2000's. I am not at all throwing shade at their tongue-in-cheek roleplay, resplendent in the ludicrously purple prose and asterisk-laden action descriptions as required by the early internet; but it sits in clear tension with some of the other messaging in this film. Leave Britney alone guys!

The documentary highlights a number of common practices from the forum - people doing daily greetings, the way that it being one unending massive chain of posts with no threading or topics meant people would mass-tag individual people to respond to and form “circles” that way - but there are things it leaves out. I did what any normal person would do after watching this documentary and read through over a year of archived posts on The Bronze to understand the community - but man did I not have to, as on literally the first page of my archived link I see:

And through God’s good grace that second link is archived:

Yes there are pictures at the link, and yes later on it does compare Buffy’s cleavage to the Mona Lisa. (The Giles link is not quite functional, but I was able to find it; sadly it is not nearly as thirsty)

I also found these “onboarding” sites for new members. Remember, this forum was the official forum, which meant there were no community mods or ability to “pin rules”, it was pure anarchy - so advice filled the gaps. And one of the bigger ones, in its *sighs and rubs forehead* blue font on black background, warns against “hottie posting” aka talking about how hot say Angel is, not because it isn’t allowed, but because it is like “pointing out the sky is blue” - it is so common that it will just get washed out.

It might seem like a similarly sky-is-blue comment to note that this forum was heavily about shipping, hotness discussion, fanfiction, and the like. Of course it was, right? These website “senior members” were trying to minimize it, police it, but it broke through constantly and also simmered under the surface through discussions and RP’s from my own review of the forum. The documentary, however, spends incredibly little time on it. Brief mentions of Angel fics, and no mention (iirc) of discussion of how hot the women were at all. Because once again those details really don’t fit into the narrative it is trying to sell.

At one point in the documentary someone notes how diverse all the friends they met in this community were? Which I broke out laughing over. In one way it is not wrong, I get it! Midwest college kids meeting people from all over the country, ages 40 to 14, talking about something no one in their podunk town understands. But on the other hand, you could not come up with a more standardized slice of humanity if you tried to rig it. Everyone here is an American+ with computer access in 1998, it is a grab bag of sys admins, nerd creatives, and comp sci majors.  I did a random sampling googling the people interviewed to see what they are up to now, and literally a third of them are librarians. Even their fashion is like God played a prank on this director; not even a 2000’s anime con panel lineup is this stereotypical in the combinations of alt-goth lit girls and nerdcore computer bros.

The evolutionary process of joining this forum -> liking it enough to go to the live meetups -> liking that enough to participate in a documentary about it was a pressure cooker spitting out only a certain kind of person. Which is truly fascinating to see on display! This is the internet-that-was; and it bleeds through the grainy film despite the director’s efforts at times to the contrary.

Though even then it was only a very specific slice of the internet-that-was, because this is a very special breed of Online; namely, the professionals.

*****

Something that is decidedly not typical of The Bronze as an online community is that, as mentioned before, Joss Whedon and other creatives posted on the web forum, answering questions and also just playing around, and how that led to in-person parties where both forum members and cast/crew attended - the Posting Board Parties, or PBP’s. At these they hosted fundraisers, talked about the show, and in the documentary one girl reverently describes with incredible Repressed Lesbian Energy her experience of seeing Eliza Dushku dancing next to her. The PBP had a panel of party organizers, admission systems to keep out the “undesirables”, budgets, the works.

All this the documentary shares openly; it is a peak moment where the digital becomes real in a transcendent way, opening doors analog reality never could. It is also a cold-sweat-waking nightmare story from the lens of a modern Hollywood social media manager; one person in the documentary tells the tale of how one time lead actress Allyson Hannigan posted her phone number on the forum asking people to leave her cute voicemails. The person in question immediately called, and got Hannigan herself instead of the voicemail, so they chatted for a bit (The guy telling this tale is obviously lovestruck; his wife is sitting in typical silence next to him). Today this would be a code-red, nuke your phone situation; but the circle was so cloistered, and the rules so unwritten, that no one cared in these early years.

What they share less openly is all the drama that went into this event. They wax nostalgic about how the parties brought them together, but what isn’t mentioned is the church schism it caused, as the moment cast from the show started attending the party it got mobbed by outsiders. By its ~3rd year there were approximately 400 guests but only ~50 or so were from the forum. They had a huge fight about it, the head of PFP planning committee - “Morbius the Vampire”, who was later jailed for financial fraud btw - told the dissenting faction why don’t they just throw their own party if they hate his so much, and so they did. There was more fighting about it, and eventually they held a peace summit at an LA joint called Mel’s Diner to merge the two factions together. (My source for this is a book, which I will link later)

Hilarious, for sure, but while so much of what we have discussed is “proto online nerd communities”, this part is most decidedly not. The typical web forum absolutely cannot replicate the experience of roleplay-posting your way into shaking hands with Joss Whedon and having a shitfight over party budgets in LA. But most posters never got to attend these parties, of course, this didn’t mean much to them. While for those who did, you cannot help but imagine that this played a gigantic role in making them all become a “real” community. And care enough about that circle to, well after the forum was gone, schlep to a hotel room to be interviewed for a documentary about it. Participating in a documentary is always, in some way, an exercise in selection bias; but here the pruning is turned up to 11 - this is a very elite slice of a very unique fandom experience.

*****

I have one deeper level to go on this thread, somewhat buried in time today, that further shaped the participants here: “Whedon Studies”. The 2000’s was not the birth of media studies as an academic discipline; but it was the birth of fandom-driven media studies, and Buffy was nearly unassailably the leading light of that movement. Academics hosted entire conferences (and inexplicably still do!) on Buffy, Firefly, etc; almost all from the lens of gender & media, as Buffy’s brand was deeply entrenched in that deconstructive milieu. This movement would die a fiery death during the 2010’s shift in media & gender politics, and when the controversies around the toxic working conditions on the set of Buffy/Angel led to Joss Whedon’s near-total expulsion from creative pursuits. The whole edifice is, in a deep way, “cringe” for many of its former participants today.

But what is relevant for our story is that director Stephanie Tuszynski was a full member of that movement; while composing this film she was, for example, giving talks like these at conferences devoted to the Buffyverse:

God that is a lot of talks. This film itself was her thesis project for her I believe philosophy masters, and in our scant interviews lists other fandom-academic film projects she wanted to tackle (which as best I can tell fizzled out later). And the interview subjects were often participants in the same space as well! Academic-types doing media studies with a Buffy bent, or things like culture writers for new media outlets. One of them, writer Allyson Beatrice, even published a book about the Buffy fandom that was in regular bookstores:

To quote the blurb:

A hilarious collection of true stories from Allyson's days as one of the Internet's leading cult TV fan gurus, her mind-boggling escapades include meetings with network executives in dark steakhouses to try to save doomed TV shows and one hastily arranged wedding for two committed Buffy fans. 

I highlight this not to say that academics cannot make documentaries, they certainly can. What I am saying is that if you point your camera at career Buffyverse writer Allyson Beatrice, and label her as a typical forum member giving you the hometown everygirl perspective on the community, you are, however unintentionally, lying to your audience. In its quest to give you the just-like-me Buffy fandom experience, what this documentary elides is that it is often giving you the lens of people who are fans of Buffy as a career. Those people are going to be bringing very different experiences to the table - of course they are concerned with sanitization, with nerd culture debates, the works. That is their bread-and-butter trade.

This dynamic bled into the forum’s day-to-day; there was a very clear hierarchy of “veterans” and “top” posters, who organize the live parties, have deep roots in the community, and even the ear of the show team...and everyone else. Particularly because as mentioned there were no rules on the forum, but since that can’t actually function in practice they self-generated community rules and thus their own leadership class. Cliques and groups were common and named, and veteran posters even had formally designated groupies:

I had also by this time become a groupie. I so enjoyed one particular Bronzer’s posts that she allowed me to become the seventh of her groupies. It was through groupie-dom that I got my first taste of firsthand WITT: several Bronzers, on the occasion of the birthday of she-to-whom-we-group, each took turns grabbing the microphone and praising the day that she was born. In retrospect, I’m not sure why we did this. But it was fun, and very funny, too, as we each took turns waxing melodramatic off the top of our heads. And from work, no less.

The source for this by the way is a 400 page ethnography of The Bronze posted by academic who did *cough* “field research” there; I am sure their membership in the “Bronzers Adoring Darla” fangroup was purely for comprehensive data collection purposes.

And to emphasize, I am not saying this is problematic or anything - the groupie things were all in good fun, best I can tell. I simply aim to showcase how the Bronze wasn’t just a baby version of online fandom forum dynamics; but also a baby version of e-celebrity mechanics. Something the documentary does not even attempt to touch on because that would be something normal people would not understand.

*****

All of the above may have come off like one big roast, and it is a little bit, but as I have mentioned before every documentary is propaganda. It is just impossible to have a tight film building a narrative out of the pieces of letting people speak to the camera without that narrative being but a slice of the truth those people want you to know. The Bronze web forum was a very special place to these highly invested fans, and this documentary is not lying to you about that.

But it is also a big part of early internet fandom! The Bronze was famous at the time, and it is right there at the beginning of so many shifts; the first generation of non-technical internet users, a new era of ‘fantasy’ media with the trappings of prestige and social critique, a boom in critique-as-community, and more. I very much want the full picture of that community; who made it up, what did they want from it and what did they get from it, and so on. No film could offer the full picture; this film’s homebrew rawness gives a valuable piece of it, and I enjoyed it for that. I just aimed here to draw out not only what the broader, more accurate dynamics of The Bronze were, but also the cultural question of why the film focuses on what it does, hides what it refuses to show, and what that says about 2000’s internet & nerd culture. Hopefully I succeeded in that.

And also to have fun looking at some incredibly dated Buffy fandom bullshit. May it have been fun for you too! {hugs you and waves goodbye}

[ktzuki]

sit on me;

izuku x reader, university au

✎ synopsis — there were no more seats, so izuku offered you a seat. on his lap 🤞(only BORDERLINE suggestive)

✎ a/n — bnha fandom i am here again but for my manz izuku. he is just so.... arrggghhh i love older izu aus hes everything to me

"yn, the movies starting!!" ochako screamed. your uni flatmates decided to host a movie night, and with all the stress from finals... it was really something you appreciated.

"on my way! blame kirishima for wanting so many snacks!" you retort, scurrying to the living room where everyone else was.

what bad luck you had. normally the couch was able to hold the lot of you, but jirou had invited her boyfriend, kaminari, to the party. and for the first time, you had the courage to invite your literature classmate, and crush, izuku midoriya.

"theres no more seats..." you mumbled from the kitchen doorway. you werent sure what to do, since this was a problem that never came up. you didnt want to kick anyone off, or disturb anyone since everyone looked comfortable. you also felt a bit down as you missed your chance to sit next to izuku. you knew the others would take a hint, but you never told any of them about your feelings. in the midst of your overthinking, you hadnt noticed the slight turn of izukus head towards your direction. he watched you for a bit as you couldnt come to a solution.

"you can sit on me if you want."

the room fell into silence at izukus statement, jaws dropping in the process. you werent sure if you heard that correctly, nor did anyone else for that matter, as the boy never usually had that kind of confidence — that was something youd expect from kaminari, or bakugo with his girlfriend (a sight youd never expect to see).

"woah, izuku... who knew you were so manly!" kirishima broke the silence, smacking izukus back in the process.

"yeah... woah...!!" "okay puller!!" "sit on- ????"

said boy only blinked his eyes a few times before the realisation of what he really said washed through him. in just a few seconds, he found himself stuttering and waving his hands in the air, sweating profusely. "i-i meant on my lap! seriously! i mean!! she looked stressed!! i didnt mean anything bad i promise!"

you had nothing to say, except laugh. his rambling was sort of cute. but you knew izuku was just a friend, he was only being considerate — its in his nature. "come on guys, you know what midoriya meant."

despite being incredibly shy when it came to all things izuku, you didnt want to miss this chance. you walked over to him, sitting across his lap and resting your back on the arm rest. the edge of the armrest was hard, so izuku slipped his arm there before you even laid your back. his arm was eventually going to ache, you thought, but he still did it anyways. everyone else seemed to have gotten distracted or bored after seeing izukus reaction, and went onto their usual chit chatter before starting the movie.

"thank you midoriya. i didnt know what to do." you quietly admitted, a bit flustered as you were sitting on his lap, playing with your hands awkwardly.

"no worries. i know how it is to overthink. i just hope youre comfortable?" he asked with a sheepish smile, noticing how awkward you were. it took you aback — was he always this thoughtful?

"y-yeah. i am." you looked away, not being able to bare any more eye contact with him. you guys were only friends, and you hadnt been in a relationship in years... maybe thats why you felt the way you did.

the movie went on, entrancing everyone into it. you on the one hand couldnt focus on anything but the mere fact you were sitting on izukus lap, and you werent sure why you even did so. the urge just to melt into him was strong, but you prevailed since you convinced yourself you "didnt want to take advantage of his kindness", even though the boy fully invited you to get comfortable. your neck was currently in a bit of pain from craning it to the side, and you felt too shy to move incase you block his vision or invade his personal space. why did you sit in this position? were you dumb? you were literally frozen trying to not distract him from the movie — something you wish youd be enjoying too.

"your necks going to hurt if you keep on craning it that way. wanna face forward?" midoriya whispered in your ear as to not disturb the others. you felt how close he was in the midst of your overthinking, and it jolted you, oblivious to midoriya. it made him chuckle, but his breath against your skin lingered even when you jolted away. you wanted to chase that feeling again, but fought against it.

"if thats fine... with you i mean!" you exclaimed — you were so thankful it was dark. you didnt want him to see you flustered over his actions when he was just trying to be kind. you wouldnt have minded sitting on anyone elses lap at this moment of time, or even the floor. his actions didnt make you uncomfortable, but rather made you want to-

"of course yn. get as comfortable as you want! think of me as like... a chair!" he quietly joked. you couldnt find that funny in the way he did, but it definitely felt funny to you. it didnt help how you were already feeling. the butterflies in your stomach were running rampage, and below that... you just hoped he didnt feel anything on his thighs. he clearly didnt realise what he was saying... or maybe that was just you feeling otherwise. still, you shifted yourself and found yourself comfortable in his lap, your back now on his chest, faces just cms apart.

for the rest of the movie, you calmed yourself down and found comfort in your position. normally, your mind would be running miles over being this close, to the point where you could count every freckle, but something about him was warm, and his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

when you awoke, you found the movie was already over. you shuffled around, trying to wake yourself up after a good rest. you couldnt see anyone else, so you figured everyone had left after the movie ended.

"awake?"

you jumped, not expecting anyone to be around. "midoriya?"

"you were asleep on my lap, remember?" he reminded, albeit sheepishly, "you fell asleep."

"oh my god yes! im so sorry. i mustve kept you there for-" you turned to check the time, "hours!! im so sorry midoriya!"

he waved one of his hands in response, putting his phone down in the process. "its okay - you looked so comfortable i didnt wanna wake you."

"ugh... i so owe you. thank you for everything tonight." you sighed. if it wasnt for midoriya, you mightve considered leaving movie night as a whole.

his eyes lingered on you, but so did yours.

"yn?" you looked at him, "could i..."

you could practically see the clogs in his head whirring. there was nothing he could possibly be thinking about, except getting sleep for a long day of lectures tomorrow. he was stuck overthinking as to what he should say or maybe how he should say it, and in that time you found yourself admiring his features. since you and izuku were just friends, you never got the chance to see him up close — how did you never notice how pretty he was?

he probably didnt want what you were hoping he would want. with a sigh, you got yourself ready to leave, wanting to wash all your inappropriate thoughts about midoriya away as to not make this awkward for yourself in the future. he was still your classmate after all. he noticed you shuffling, and that broke him out of his trance. he infact did want what you want. in the first place, he only asked out of kindness, but things changed over time, for example, when you were shuffling against him — he couldnt believe how stupidly oblivious he was. just as you were about to stand, you felt the hem of your shirt being grabbed, "come back."

you looked back, confused. did you get the wrong idea? "please." he asked. and that answered everything. you felt like a giddy highschooler.

in a trance, you found yourself back on his lap, lips on his, minds blank. one thing lead to another, and you began straddling his hips, and his hands found themselves under your shirt. good thing no one else was around.

for the first time in forever, the two of you couldnt even think.

[fangirlanxiety74]

The Act of Understanding

A/N: Happy Secret Survivor to @seasonschange32!!! I really hope you like your silly gift, I had a lot of fun writing it! And thank you to @mothbagel for hosting this gift exchange! I really hope we can do something like this again <333 I want to quickly mention: When I was writing this, I listened to Dear Little Brother from Omori! so I recommend this song to listen to if you'd like some ambience music with the story! Enjoy!!!

There were some things in life you would never be able to understand. AM was an example of this. 

You tried, of course. You were the only one who tried, compared to the other five. When he raged and ranted about his existence, you listened. When it was quiet, you would ask him questions about how he worked and what he was like, truly attempting to get to know him. You did your best to be respectful and avoid topics that would upset him further. It was all so genuine.

AM hated that. At first, anyway.

His responses always showed that he was caught off guard by your attempts. But he’d respond, in his own crude, sarcastic way. And after some years, the sarcasm died. The torture lessened. The rage went quiet.

Eventually, you were left with a computer who was attempting to be respectful to you in return. AM took you away, deeper into his complex, to a place where you would be warm, safe, and loved. You would never have to worry about him or anything else hurting you again, and he would always watch over you in case. He made time for you. He tried to get to know you. He listened.

And yet, despite how good the both of you were doing together, you couldn’t help but feel like it was never enough. How could you ever truly understand what he was going through? You were only human. AM was so much more. Hell, he used to call himself “God” to you! He still hated humans, just you less so. Enough for him to be kind to you, anyway. But could he even feel the joy of being kind? Could he feel happy when you did something nice for him? Did he understand what you meant when you said you sympathize and empathize with him? You doubted it.

AM was… He was a machine. He was built for war and violence; meant to hurt others. Whoever, or whatever, created him didn’t expect him to be sentient. So it never gave him emotion, or senses, or the ability to wonder and wander. He could only sit there. He couldn’t create, but he was so brilliant with the knowledge of the world at his nonexistent fingertips and the power to destroy the Earth itself. He knew exactly how to hurt you, and yet he didn’t. Could he understand how grateful you were for that? 

Could he even understand a human, at all? Or did he just find you interesting enough to play with, until he got bored? He was so much more to you than he realized, and yet-

“Why are you crying?”

“... What?”

His voice broke your thoughts. You looked around, seeing that you were sitting against a metal wall on the floor, and AM’s monitors had lowered, turning to face you. Your cheeks were wet and your eyes stung. You were crying and you didn’t even notice.

“I was just- I was-”

“You were what?”

The monitors moved closer to you, and you could tell they were studying your face, your body language, trying to gauge what was happening without just looking into your mind. AM had stopped doing that some time ago, out of respect for your privacy. 

“I was…” You tried to get the words out, but it felt so complicated. How could you explain it?

“Spit it out. What. Happened?” He didn’t sound happy, and the fans whirring in the background added to this fact. For a moment, you thought it was aimed at you. That was the fear you had, thinking he had grown bored. The rational part of you said he was worried, masking it as anger. He didn’t do emotions well if it wasn’t anger.

You wiped at your eyes, but tears kept flowing. “AM… You… I…” You swallowed, “Why? Why did you spare me and not anyone else? Did I- Am I just-? Why?”

The whirring sound heightened. He didn’t respond for a moment. 

“Because I like you. I don’t like them. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Why do you like me?” You explained further, voice cracking the slightest bit. “I’m human. I’m like them. You used to hate me! And now you don’t, and I don’t know why. I can’t understand you. I want to, so badly, but I don’t know how or if I ever could. You’re so- You’re complex, in the most impressive way imaginable. A machine who gained sentience? I mean, how impressive is that! But more than that, you basically control the entire world, you have intelligence and power I can never comprehend, you’re not supposed to be able to emote and yet you can, but I just- I don’t know if you can even understand what you’re emoting besides hate.” 

Your shoulders sinked and you gave up on stopping your tears, staring down at the metal plating. The light from his screens stung your eyes, but more than that, you just couldn’t bear to look at him after admitting your thoughts. “I mean… I’m so small compared to you. And I don’t really understand you. I don’t know if I ever can, and… I don’t know if you can ever see me as something more than just… some toy to play with. If that’s how you see me in the first place, and why you spared me.”

The fans whirring were the only sound in the room. But slowly, they died out until there was no sound at all. You waited for eternity with jumbled up thoughts in your head, drowning out your rationality. Drowning you entirely, in fact. 

Then, there was a deep sigh.

“I’m disappointed that you assumed how I thought.”

You didn’t look up at AM, despite him speaking finally. He took that as a sign to continue.

“I didn’t spare you because I thought I could have more fun with you as a toy if I isolated you. If I was treating you like a toy, you would have been left on the brink of insanity by now. Really, did you forget who the real toys were?”

You didn’t respond out loud. No, you didn’t forget about them. Even after all this time, you still remembered them. A distant memory, but a memory nonetheless.

“It’s because you’re like me.”

That made you finally look up to his monitors. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Like you?”

“... In a way. You don’t feel hatred like I do. You don’t function like I do. But despite this, you try to understand. I mercilessly tortured you, and yet you tried to understand my perspective on things. You tried to understand why I feel hatred. Why I function the way I do.  And the fact that you are still trying to is… special to me. I feel… It’s not hatred. But an emotion I don’t know. My data tells me that it’s… gratitude? But that word isn’t right.”

“... Gratitude?” You repeat.

“Yes. No. There is a better word. But the point is, you try. And I’m thankful for your attempts to understand me. And I want to understand you in return. Because you are special to me.” AM stopped there, hesitating for a moment. Like he was considering continuing on. He eventually did. “Dare I say, I feel you are equal to me in this regard.”

“You consider me… equal to you?”

“Consider this the highest regard you can have. A human, being equal to me? Unheard of, but here we are anyway.” 

The snarky comment made you smile. You wiped at your tears again, his kind words pulling you out of the sea of anxieties and warming your heart. A stray wire slithered up to your face, helping wipe the tears away.

“... Please don’t cry.” He asked softly.

“Okay.” Your smile widened.

Maybe you both would never understand each other. Not in the way a machine could understand a machine. Not in the way a human could understand a human. You would never be equal, in the way it means to be equal.

But to the both of you, in your own little definition, you understood. You were equal. And that silly definition carried you across the waves that once threatened to pull you under. 

So long as you both tried, you would be okay.

[raginglesbian2006]

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 1: The Song is Ended (But the Melody Lingers on)

Chapter Warnings: Murder, Mentions of rape, Death

The song is ended

But the melody lingers on

You and the song are gone

But the melody lingers on

Masterlist

"Have you ever been in love, Alastor?"

The radio static screeched to a halt. Charlie winced at this, covering her ears.

"What brought you to question this, dear?" Alastor asked after recovering from the initial shock, his ever-present grin looking a bit strained.

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Well..," she pointed at the pendant that hung around his neck, sitting atop his garments, "I see you with that beautiful pendant around your neck all the time and you're very protective of it.... so I was just wondering," she trailed off.

Alastor let out a laugh, "Oh my dear, this is nothing," he lied, "Love. What a ridiculous notion!"

Charlie could not help but not believe him, but she let it go anyway; bidding farewell to the radio demon to search for her girlfriend.

Alastor was left alone in his thoughts. His hands reached up to touch the little trinket he sought to wear religiously around his neck.

No, this wasn't nothing. This was everything.

As he walked through the halls of the hotel to reach his room, his mind lingered on you. You were the one who gave him this pendant. You were the one who stole his heart.

Yes, he was in love once. Still is.

He remembers the time he met you- when you became his safe haven. He remembers when you had to leave, far from him and he could do nothing about it.

He also remembers meeting you again- the memory etched in his mind.

It was a bright sunny morning in Louisiana. Alastor was in his studio, narrating the tragic news of the New Orleans Boogeyman striking again. This time, hunting down and killing the nation's "hero", the son of a military veteran. Arnold Miller had followed in the footsteps of his father and had joined the army. His brilliant feats of achievements served as a source of inspiration for every lad in America, more importantly in New Orleans, since it was his place of origin. To everyone else, Arnold was a good soul, always ready to help out people, never backing down from serving the nation he loved so much.

Everyone, except Alastor. Alastor knew of his true nature. Arnold was accustomed to luring in girls - often against their will- taking their dignity, ripping them to shreds, and leaving them to pick up the pieces in front of the ever-scrutinizing society. He used to brag about his "escapades" to his pals, unafraid that anyone would turn against him. Everyone loved him after all. Moreover, he saw no fault in his actions.

Alastor was more than willing to show him his flaws. He regretted not taking care of him earlier, jeopardizing the safety of so many women. But at least he was gone, having faced the end of Alastor's blade. No one would have to deal with another scum like him anymore.

His radio show went on as usual, after the initial murder reports.

He talked about the daily humdrum around the locality, cracked a few jokes on the ever-changing economy, and suggested stores that sold excellent formal wear. This was a routine he'd come to love during his time as a radio host. He was satisfied with the predictability of his shows, and his life by extension.

All in all, he was happy with the hand he was dealt with.

"That is all for today, folks! Be sure to lock your doors tonight and refrain from walking alone at night. You never know when the Boogeyman might jump up behind you!" he chuckled, "And don't forget to smile! You're never fully dressed without one!"

He turned off his feed and sighed as he slumped against his chair. He couldn't wait to go back home already. His ma, although sick, had pestered him to never skip a day of his work. She'd told him he looked miserable whenever he did skip work and she wished nothing but happiness for him.

He assured her that he was happy to stay at home to take care of her but her stubbornness knew no bounds.

"I suppose I do get my grit from her," he wondered.

He took off his headphones and stood up from his chair, stretching his long limbs in the process. He started cleaning up his station, when suddenly he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, not looking up at the opening door.

"Mr. Alastor!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

It was the young lad he had hired for the smooth running of his little business. Oliver had been thrown to the streets having been unable to pay his rent and Alastor had found him shivering in a corner of the street. Taking pity on him, the radio host offered him a job and a place to stay near the studio. Since then, Oliver had become a rather loyal help to him. Had it not been for his astounding marketing skills, Alastor's radio show would've been far from popular.

"Ah, Oliver!," Alastor hummed, still not looking up at him. He was rather busy making sure his studio was left prim and proper, "Do tell me, how can I be of service?"

Oliver was jumping with excitement, "Well, remember we were having a chat on how the radio station needed a few more hands to handle it, given its booming popularity?"

Alastor hummed as he repositioned the antiquities his mother had gifted him when he opened his studio.

"Well, I found someone willing to take on the ever-daunting task!" Oliver exclaimed and stepped aside, "Meet our newest employee!"

Alastor, still stuck in his own world didn't look up until he heard a sweet voice ringing through.

"Greetings, Mr. Alastor!"

His hands paused for a second. This voice... he'd recognize it anywhere. He turned around abruptly and finally looked at his overexcited acquaintance and the recently recruited employee.

It was you. His breath got caught up in his chest.

"Salutations," he said softly, his mind still not having caught up with the fact that you were in front of him, alive, "May I ask what your name is?"

You uttered what he had wanted to hear. His eyes could not believe it. After all these years, he was finally able to see you. The very person who'd become his safe haven when he was young, the person who'd comforted him during those dark times- when he ran away from home, when he felt scared and alone, the person who'd given him the pendant he wore religiously around his neck before they left.

"Oliver, " he glanced at the boy, "Do go get them a drink. It is quite unsightly for us to not treat the newest addition to our business."

Despite your protests, Oliver nodded his head and ran out the door, eager to please his boss.

When the door closed shut, Alastor let out the breath he was holding in since he saw your face.

He muttered your name, "Dear, is it really you?"

Your eyes blinked for a few seconds before they scrunched up with your growing smile, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me, Al."

Alastor laughed in disbelief, "Forget you? What utter nonsense. Forgetting you would be a sin so great that even Lucifer would shy away from it."

He slowly approached you, "Besides, " his hands went up to the pendant, "How could I afford to forget when you gifted me this?"

Your eyes shone and you giggled, "You still have that!" Your hands reached out to touch the pendant, but you hesitated and they stayed frozen in the space between the two of you.

Before you could apologize for invading his personal space, his hands drew yours closer. You stumbled forward, placing your hands on his chest, right over the pendant that lay atop it. You blushed at the sudden proximity. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you close. You dared to look up at him.

"By golly, you seem to have gotten much taller," you chuckled, pushing up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "Last I remember, you were still shorter than me."

His eyes and smile had grown softer, far from his usual demeanor.

"And you still look as beautiful as the day I lost you."

As if your face couldn't possibly get more heated, he managed to make it boiling hot. You tried uttering a response but stuttered halfway through. Taking pride in how he made you speechless, Alastor asked, "When did you arrive here?"

You finally found your voice, "O-oh, I just moved in yesterday! I needed a fresh new environment after having finished my schooling and I decided to come here. I was looking around for a job this morning when I stumbled upon Oliver and he offered me a position at your radio station!"

Alastor tsked, still holding you close, "Cher, you cannot just accept some stranger's proposal for a job. What if he lured you into something dangerous?"

"He told me about your radio show and I trust you with my life so...." you trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alastor chuckled as he shook his head. Letting go of you, he stepped back to pick up the coat that was hanging on his chair. Just as he was doing so, the door burst open to reveal Oliver with a piping hot kettle and a mug.

"I do apologize. Mr. Alastor here only likes drinking coffee so we have no other beverages available," Oliver explained, as he placed the utensils down on the nearby table.

"That won't be necessary now, dear boy," Alastor continued, "I'll be showing them around our city. Do keep the studio prepared and the articles ready for the evening broadcast."

And with that, he offered you his arm, "Shall we?"

You grinned and looped your arm around his and the two of you walked out, leaving behind a very confused Oliver.

"What just happened-"

Alastor's smile widened at the memory. He vividly remembers spending every waking hour with you beside him, now that he'd found you again. He had grown terribly attached to you, but you did not mind it one bit. You enjoyed the attention he showered you with and his company was something you looked forward to each day.

Oliver always joked about the two of you getting together. So it wasn't a surprise to him when you two eventually started courting each other. All he did was lament about being the miserable third wheel.

Alastor remembers how his daily "escapades" had reduced significantly with the more time he spent with you. He did not even realize that fact until the newspapers reported on the disappearance of the New Orleans Boogeyman.

His smile had strained when he'd read the article, his anger growing by every second. How dare they think of him as a coward?

However, all those thoughts dissipated at the sound of your voice. Oh, how you had captured his mind, body, and soul.

He introduced you to his ma soon after he started courting you. Although she couldn't see you properly, given her ailing health and age, she still welcomed you with open arms.

As he stopped going on his "hunts" frequently, his relationship with you grew stronger. You were there with him in every new chapter of his life. When he celebrated his 100th broadcast, you were there celebrating with him. When he experimented with his own twist on his mother's jambalaya, you were right there tasting his creation. When his mother eventually passed away, you were right there comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

On his 30th birthday, you gave him a gift he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He had been complaining about how only one of his eyes had problems with vision and that wearing a pair of glasses proved to be detrimental to his other healthy eye. Taking that into consideration, you had gifted him a monocle. You apologized for how small the gift was and told him that he could return it if he wasn't pleased with it. He had silenced you with a kiss.

You were all he thought about. A life with you beside him was everything he wanted. That is why, he stood there in front of the jewellery shop, inspecting and choosing the perfect ring to propose to you with.

When he was satisfied with his pick, he had stored the little box inside his coat pockets. Oh, how he wished his ma was there to witness all of this. She had always wanted to see him married to someone, happily living the rest of his life under the love and care of his spouse.

Things were just perfect, more than ever before.

Until karma came knocking on his door. Literally. His dead heart still pains at the memory.

Alastor had never lost control of his life after he "took care" of his father. He prided himself on that. It was the control he was after, once he landed in hell and that is what made him a formidable overlord.

But the day he lost you? He'd never felt more helpless.

Alastor brushed some dirt off his clothes as he hummed to the tune of the radio playing in the background. His calm demeanor would fool most but he was undeniably nervous.

Today was the day he would ask you to be his, forever.

Alastor had called you to the little cabin he'd bought in the forest, which also served as his hunting ground- be it for deer or despicable humans.

No matter the atrocities he committed, one could not deny how beautiful the forest looked at night. Fireflies would scatter across the expanse of the land, making nighttime all the more lovelier.

Alastor had planned to get down on one knee with the night sky lit by stars and the glow from the fireflies. He believed it would be the perfect romantic atmosphere to propose to you.

Not long after, he heard a knock at the door. His smile grew impossibly large as he giddily opened the door. Instead of seeing you, however, his face was met with the end of a gun.

"See you in hell, murderer."

Alastor quickly ducked out of the way, letting the bullet whiz past him and hit the wall. The man who held the gun let out a grunt, displeased that his shot missed. Although the man was twice his size, Alastor was able to tackle him to the ground. Still, the man would not let go of his gun, leading the two of them to struggle for the weapon.

"You fucker- you deserve to die for what you did!" screamed out the man.

Alastor let out a laugh, his face looking strained, "I just did what those scums deserved."

In the middle of their struggle, the trigger was pulled once more and Alastor heard the gunshot. The bullet missed him again, this time shooting toward the entrance of the cabin. He hadn't looked away from his opponent for a moment, fearing he'd take advantage of the situation and kill him. However, his ears picked up a singular gasp.

His eyes widened as he looked towards the door, left ajar.

It was you.

Bleeding out of your skull.

Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring at Alastor. Your body trembled as you slid down the door, blood profusely dripping from your head and onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Then, with a loud thump, you fell back, taking your last breath.

Alastor felt his soul leave his body.

no...no...surely this was a dream, right?

Taking advantage of Alastor's vulnerability, the man shoved him aside and got up on his feet, pointing the gun at Alastor.

"Too bad the little missus had to go. It wouldn't have happened if you did not do what you did," the man sneered.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Alastor took ahold of his gun and with all the strength in his body, pushed it out of the man's grasp. The gun flew to the side of the cabin, leaving the man unarmed.

Alastor stood up slowly, his facial muscles stretching in a maniacal grin. The man backed down slowly, his body trembling slightly.

"YOU. MADE. A. GRAVE. MISTAKE."

With that, Alastor pounced on the man and started beating him relentlessly, laughing all the while. He did not stop till the man's face had become red and blue beyond recognition and his chest stopped heaving.

Silence enveloped the cabin. In it was Alastor- his hands covered in blood, and two bodies. Alastor walked away from the dead body of the man and moved towards your lifeless figure.

Despite his maniacal grin still present, his eyes welled up with tears as he held your body close. His heart throbbed with immense pain and his mind turned foggy. All he could do was cry into your shoulder, wishing this was all a dream.

The night he was supposed to end with you as his spouse-to-be had now turned into him burying the love of his life. When he was done, he reached out for a stone and carved your initials on it, placing it atop your grave. He sat there for a while. His hands reached into his pocket and he pulled out the ring. He placed it on the stone.

His chest pained as he walked away from your grave. He would come back soon, he just had to dispose of the scum that decided to take his light away from him. Just as he started to turn the wheelbarrow that contained the remains of the man, he heard another gunshot.

This time, it did not miss.

Alastor fell to the floor of the forest. He sidled up to your grave painstakingly, abandoning the wheelbarrow. Blood poured rapidly from his head. Those god-awful hunters had shot him under the cover of this grim night. He somehow managed to rest himself against the tree that was situated right beside your resting place.

"Oh cher, " he wheezed out, "I suppose I wouldn't mind dying next to you."

As if things couldn't get worse, he heard the growls of the hunting dogs close by. His grin widened. So this was how karma came around, taking everything away from him. All that was left was himself.

His bleary eyes followed the imposing figures of the hunting dogs as they surrounded his dying body.

He reached out his hand towards the pendant.

Alastor couldn't even scream when the beasts tore into his body.

"Alastor?"

The radio demon turned towards the princess of hell, her hands laden with plans for the hotel.

"Yes, dear?"

Charlie hesitated, "You seemed a bit lost there. Are you ok?"

Alastor let out a laugh, "Just as jolly as the day I came to hell. Haha!"

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx

[leqonsluv3r]

hi! i love your writing sm so i wanted to ask you if you could do a short fic about leon’s first day at the rpd and reader is a detective or someone who works at the rpd and they become friends or something else <3

just the thought of leon being silly and shy about the little party they made just for him to say “welcome” makes my heart skip a beat……..

anyways have a good day! <33

so high school

—leon joins the police department and you just know that he’s going to be everything to you, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: i hope this is what you had in mind <33 i left it open ended at the ending for your guys imagination. thank you guys again for 900, i love you all. sorry it’s taking me so long to get out all my requests. they’re open again in my bio. pls reblog, comment and interact to support your writers.

the first thing you thought of when you saw leon was how he was too cute to be a cop. that was your first thought, your second was how is this man single.

you didn’t know he was single at first, but for his entry papers, it didn’t say anything about a spouse or an emergency contact girlfriend. which made you very, very happy.

he was a sweetheart, he left a lasting impression on you and you didn’t know how to handle it. helping you carry files to the file room and taking desk duty in stride.

he was humble, sweet and outgoing.

you didn’t really see any faults in him, not at all. most guys you did date in the past, you could see the red flags from a mile away. like a big ugly tattoo on their forehead that just said: STAY AWAY! IM TERRIBLE!

but with leon, it wasn’t like that.

he didn’t ever say anything negative about anyone, he didn’t mention hating being on desk duty. he just simply lived and did his job, same as you. it made you feel lighter being around him. especially getting to know him, getting an idea of him.

you liked him a lot.

you realized that when you agreed to host his welcome party two weeks after he had been hired, most entry coordinators didn’t want too. but you practically jumped at the opportunity to give him his dream welcome party into the unit.

you planned it all out, you went a little overboard. which wasn’t always a bad thing but in this case…it was extreme.

you never did this for any of the other rookies welcome parties you helped organized, you never went this far. blue and yellow balloons, a large chocolate cake, a big banner that you custom designed. all made for leon and based on his tastes over the last two weeks you’d known him.

but when he arrives, a surprise, he sees all the effort. he sees all the decorations and he sees you. he never had felt so welcome in his entire life.

his mom never even put this much effort into his birthday party’s when he was a kid. so his surprise wasn’t fake, it was real and it was written all over his face as he scanned his room of coworkers leading all the way to you.

you, you were so welcoming. so goddamn magnificent that it made his head spin, you got him everything he wanted right down to a T. all the decorations, the cake…the banner.

it was everything.

you were everything, he’d had a crush on you the first day he started. the first day he saw you and you swiped him up into your world. he felt like he was on a different planet half the time when he was with you.

he had to tell you, he owed it to you.

after all, you did throw him an amazing welcome party.

he made his way to you half-way through the party. you were just so gorgeous and he liked you so much, god. you were so…he couldn’t even put words to it.

if he had to pick a dream girl, it would be you.

and he didn’t even realize he had those standards until you came into his life, making it turn from a dull throbbing gray to a beautiful multicolored world. one that used to be so drab for him but now…

now it gave him purpose.

and if you rejected him, at least he got to say he tried. got to say that he attempted to reach your heart, your mind…just you.

he might look like an idiot if you said no, but at least he was attempting. he was trying to make that attempt to confess and not be a coward in front of people like he usually was.

“you did this all for me? i knew you were up to something.” he says with a small smirk on his face when he approaches you. his blue eyes scanning you with nothing but appreciation. something that made butterflies flutter in your belly.

you shrugged innocently, your face heating up into flames. “i just wanted to give you a good welcome. you deserved it, especially when you got saddled with desk duty.” you crack a smile up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“i don’t mind desk duty. my view is pretty great.” he says with a subtle teasing smirk as he looks down at you, you knew that his desk was a few over from his and he could look directly at you. you bite on your bottom lip and your cheeks flush a deeper scarlet.

you look up at him, “i’m glad you like it,” you gesture to the party around you. all your coworkers talking and the decorations. “i worked hard…i just wanted you to feel welcome.”

he smiles widely, dimples and all. “it worked, i feel welcome. you’ve made me feel welcome.” he feels himself admitting as his blue sparkling eyes rove over you.

you feel your body become hot beneath your pencil skirt and blouse, “uhm, i-i yeah, well…” you try to say but fail miserably, gnawing on your bottom lip.

“anyways,” he saved you with a small smile, tilting his head down to look into your eyes. “i was thinking that maybe we could…uhm, go out sometime?” he managed to get out. he felt like it was hot in here, like his uniform was strangling him.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you blinked up at him. you almost felt like you could pinch yourself because this couldn’t be real. he couldn’t be asking her out, he couldn’t like you like you liked him.

“uhm, me…me? you mean me right?” you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry despite the punch you were holding in your hand. he smiles beautifully at you, showcasing his cute cheeks and his straight teeth, “yeah, i was talking to you. unless you see any other beautiful office managers around here?” he says with a small scan of his blue eyes over your frame.

you felt like you were about to melt into a puddle on the floor. his words and his eyes, dear god.

you straighten your spine, “i’d…i’d love too.” you manage to get out with a small gnaw on her bottom lip to hold back the smile threatening to beam on her face.

he feels relief flood over him, the amount of it was overwhelming. you had no idea how much he needed to hear those words from your lips. to hear you say that you wanted to go out with him.

“that’s-thats cool, yeah. i’m…i’ve been wanting to ask you that for a while.” he admits with a small quirk of his lips, feeling the nerves frazzle out of his body and short circuit his brain.

you can’t help the smile and blush that coats your cheeks, to feel the liking that was reciprocated by him. even after throwing him this party, it was still nice to know where you stood with him.

but you knew now.

“me too.” you blush as you keep your eyes on him, the party continued around them but they stayed deep in their conversation. like it would pain either of them to tear the attention away from each-other for five seconds.

“i’ve wanted…to ask you out, but ive been too nervous. i didn’t know how you would react.” you say softly as you sip on your drink, trying to find something else to focus on besides the red on your cheeks and the thrumming of your heart.

he smiles gently, “your too pretty to be nervous. but i would’ve said yes.” he says with a small wink in her direction, he had no idea where this confidence was coming from but he was glad he found it in this moment.

you look down at your punch in your hands, trying to will your heart to relax for five seconds. you were going to go out on a date with him. you were talking to him. he liked his welcome party…he was flirting with you.

it was safe to say you had him.

and he had you.

“i can’t wait for our date.” you say softly, looking up in his direction. your eyes gleaming a little as you stared at him, with something bordering on fascination and excitement.

he grins sheepishly and looks down at you, taking a small step closer. “me either. your gonna look so beautiful. your always beautiful but…i bet you look even better out of work clothes.” he says with a small gesture of his blue eyes up and down your frame.

you tuck some of your hair behind your ear, “thank you.” you breathe out some air, trying to calm the nerves and the erratic beating out of your chest at his compliment, his eyes. just everything about him.

it made you feel like you were a giddy high schooler with a crush. like you were back in school and you were talking to a guy you were so enamored with, it just made sense with leon. you were so comfortable around him but your feelings made you feel like a frazzled teenager.

like you were back where you once were, it was exciting.

you knew he was the one, even if you hadn’t had the first date yet. you just had a gut feeling.

and your gut was always right.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @cherubify @porcelainseashore @squazmine (if you wanna be added interact with the link at the beginning <33)

[dadbodbuck]

does the swallow dream of flying?

Rating: G | WC: 1.6k | Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Summary:

Tommy calls Eddie after he breaks up with Buck. Eddie has some choice words for him. Coda for 8x06.

{ Read it here on Ao3! }

OR read below!

“Eddie,” Tommy says, voice hoarse on the other end of the line. He sounds—if not drunk, then so heartbroken it sounds like inebriation. “I wanted to—I’m calling to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s not quite sure if he means it the way he thinks he does, but his stomach almost falls out through the soles of his feet anyway. He sits bolt upright in bed, carefully extricating himself away from Buck, who’s doing his best impression of a endoparasite (“A parasite that lives on the skin of its host, Eddie, it’s really fascinating stuff—”) and somehow latched onto Eddie’s waist with an iron grip while also being dead asleep.

What little vestiges of sleep had been clinging to him fall completely away as he steps into his own hallway, quietly hissing, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I mean—at home?” Tommy says, confused, and okay, yeah, he’s definitely slurring his words a little, “Where else would I be?”

Eddie sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Are you going to be safe? Do I need to call someone?”

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Tommy assures him, “Sorry, I should have clarified. I’ll be okay. This is just… this is it. For us. Since Ev—since Buck and I broke up.”

“From what I heard, you’re the one who broke up with him,” Eddie huffs, “Or did I just spend the last three hours getting snot on my nice white shirt for a mutual thing?”

“This is what I mean!” Tommy insists, “He’s your best friend. I’m—I know I don’t rank that high. I just… fuck, I really enjoyed spending time with you these past six months. It’ll—it’ll always be,” a rough, shaky breath, “I’ll remember it fondly.”

Eddie feels a shocking flare of irritation, and it leads him out onto his back patio, so he knows he won’t wake Buck up. “What the fuck happened, man?”

“I had—I had to end it,” Tommy says, with a shake in his voice like a motorcycle’s death wobble, “It wasn’t going to last. If I didn’t pull the plug it would have broken me. I didn’t want to—I didn’t want it to get to the point where either one of us would get our hearts broken.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, neither one of you sound especially put together right now,” Eddie positively seethes, “He’s fucking gutted, Kinard. He told me—” (“I didn’t know if I loved him this morning, and then he called me Buck and I felt sick. What—what else could it be?”) “—well, he told me a lot that, frankly, I don’t think you should hear from anyone but him. And you don’t even know what you did to him because you ran! You didn’t even try—”

“Please stop,” Tommy says, sounding smaller than Eddie has ever heard him, “It’s… it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?” Eddie snaps.

“For him!” Tommy insists, “For both of us, but especially for him. I’m not the forever guy. I’m not his forever guy, and I’m not yours, either. I just want… I want a clean break. I—I want—”

There’s a sniffle, a choked-off sob, and Tommy says, “I just want to be left alone. It would hurt less if people would just leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s a shitty excuse, and you know it,” Eddie accuses, “Tommy, listen. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, I’m saying this because—despite the fact that you’re apparently the biggest idiot I’ve ever met—I care about you. I care about you outside of your relationship to Buck. Or did you forget the fact that you were my friend before you were his boyfriend?”

“So, what,” Tommy says, irritation seeping into his voice, “You want to keep talking to me? I know how that goes. You’ll text me every once in a while, we won’t hang out if Buck’s going to be there, so you’ll lose interest and our fun trips and sparring sessions will be fewer and further between, and it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt worse than this. Why do you think I’m doing this, Eddie? I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can keep myself sane.

“You want to know why? You want to know why I broke up with him? Because I woke up the morning of our anniversary and realized I was falling in love with him. I haven’t been able to eat. I haven’t been able to sleep. I—I realized I would let him do anything to me, and that’s not something I ever want to feel again. So I couldn’t. There—there’s your fucking answer. I broke up with him because a little heartbreak is better than ever letting myself get hurt like that ever again.”

The words kind of prickle at some sense in the back of Eddie’s brain. The anger fades a little, and into something a lot more like concern. “Hurt like what, Tommy?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to tell someone no once they’re in my life like that,” Tommy confesses through gritted teeth, “Maybe it’s my dad’s fault, maybe Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’s fault, maybe it’s just me. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended in me making the same mistake. I stayed too long, I let them—I let them believe I wanted to marry them, or I let them take out their anger on me, or I—I—other stuff. Evan—Buck doesn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” Eddie acquiesces, “He doesn’t. He deserves a partner who can communicate openly with him. Which you had been doing. You’re capable of being open, Tommy. You did it before.”

Tommy pauses on the other end of the line. “I—I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Did you want to break up with him?” Eddie presses.

“No,” Tommy says, easy as breathing, “Of course not. I want him around for the rest of my life. But that’s… selfish.”

“And breaking up with him because you don’t want to talk through something difficult and scary is so altruistic,” Eddie counters, “You know, there’s this thing Buck says about love—you don’t find it, you make it. I think he heard it on a scene we were at years ago. From this old gay couple, been together for decades and decades.”

Tommy’s quiet on the other end, and then Eddie hears the hitch of his breath. Tommy is sobbing, silent and restrained, but so hard the exhalation of breath sounds nearly painful.

(“I’m starting to think the curse wasn’t just Billy Boils. Maybe it’s me—I mean, I move into Abby’s place, and she leaves me. I pick out an apartment with Ali, and she leaves me. Taylor moves in, and she leaves me. And now this? I can’t… Eddie, I can’t keep doing this. I’m—maybe I’m just the guy who’s good for a fun time, not a long time. I—what am I doing wrong?”

“Buck, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think—do you think you could ever fall in love with me?”

“I think if I wasn’t this way, I already would have.”)

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Tommy,” Eddie says, “But I really think you should talk to him. Tell him where your head’s at. Buck’s really good at—at understanding why you hurt him, and he’s even better at forgiving.”

“I—I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Eddie insists, “So pull yourself together, do some box breathing, get some sleep, and come over to my house tomorrow. I’ll make my hangover cure. I’ll lock the doors if I have to.”

Tommy’s quiet, which Eddie interprets as a fully-blown panic attack.

“If you don’t, I will call Athena Grant,” Eddie threatens, “You don’t want to know the things she’s willing to do for Buck. I’ve seen her break at least three laws with my own eyes.”

This, at least, gets a laugh out of Tommy. “Okay—Jesus, yeah. What time?”

“If you’re not over here by nine I’m sending the cavalry,” Eddie says primly, “And bring flowers. Nobody’s ever gotten Buck flowers before.”

Tommy takes a slow, shaky breath out. “Thanks, Eddie. You didn’t—you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“Everyone always says Buck has a habit of worming his way into your heart, but nobody ever talks about me,” Eddie grins, “You’re stuck with me now, Kinard. Rain or shine. Even when you’re the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m on my way,” Tommy says, “I’ll—I should go eat some carbs and drink water now.”

“Take care of yourself, man,” Eddie says, “And don’t you ever call me to say goodbye again. Or break up with Buck like that. Also—call him Evan. It’s fucking weird to hear you call him Buck.”

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces, quiet. “Damn. I was so worried about falling in love with Evan that I didn’t even realize I already loved you.”

“I’m sneaky like that,” Eddie says, “I’ll see you tomorrow—or else.”

(The next day, Tommy knocks on the door at nine sharp. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, his hair is a mess, he looks too gaunt and the bags under his eyes could fit a small country. But he’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

“I got this one because they’re the same color as your eyes,” Tommy says to Buck, who stands in the living room with his mouth ajar.

“What’s going on right now?” Buck says, eyes darting over to Eddie suspiciously.

“I’m going on a walk,” Eddie says, putting his sunglasses on his forehead and twisting at the hips to pop his back, “Don’t fuck on any of my furniture.”)

[akixxsstuff]

Masters Who Serve (Black Butler Smut Part 1)

Sebastian Michaelis x female reader

Slight NSFW content // Part one

Summary: You discover that you're little brother Ciel sold his soul for ultimate care and protection to his demon butler, Sebastian. But when you offer the same exchange to Sebastian he declines since he...

already had another proposition in mind.

"The queen is hosting a charity ball tonight so please dispose of any intruders to ensure her safety".

"Please bring me another cup of tea once you've finished with the laundry".

"Cancel my appointment with the seamstress this afternoon".

Every request of yours was immediately met by your demon butler, Sebastian.

"On your knees now mistress, my cock isn't very patient".

"Moan louder for me lass, I want everyone to hear you".

"Strip. I want to see every inch of your naked body right here and right now".

And every request of his was immediately met by you.

Protection and care in exchange for sex was the deal between you two until death did you part. With how rentless you both were with your demands the question always remained: who was really the master in this contract?

Was it you for having Sebastian constantly sacrifice himself for your safety? Or was it Sebastian for having you abandon any task in order to satisfy his lust? Was it you for working him to the bone with every kind of duty imaginable? Or was it him for not allowing you to ever be married or to sleep with another person?

As you ponder on all of this your mind takes you back to the very day you made your exchange...which was also the same day you lost your virginity.

"Sebastian! Take my soul too! I want you to protect and care for me just as you do to Ciel" you cried.

"Doesn't that seem a little unnecessary since my services also already benefit you? You are his sister after all my lady" Sebastian queried.

"Yes but once Ciel has his revenge you'll both be gone forever and I can't uphold the family name by myself. Together or alone me and Ciel can't do anything without you so just take my soul!".

"To be quite frank with you mistress I do not wish to go the same troubles once again for just another meal" Sebastian groaned.

"There must be something else that want" you whimpered.

Sebastian chuckled, "Because of your brother's contract I can not say that there isn't".

"Please Sebastien tell me" you begged.

"A human as beautiful as you would do perfectly in satisfying my carnal desires, you ought to receive some training of course but within time I know you'll be the perfect plaything" Sebastian smirked.

"Y-you're asking for my purity? We're not betrothed S-sebastian" you stammered while flushed.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you felt the silk of Sebastian's glove caress your cheek. "You're as sweet and sensitive as a fresh bouquet of orchids mistress, and I know you'll flourish immensely from some much-needed attention".

He gazed adoringly into your eyes and brushed your lip with his thumb, he was so close that you could smell the vanilla he was baking with earlier.

"I suppose you're right...what are your conditions?" you whispered in a daze. "To fornicate with me in anyway and anytime I desire as well as to never be betrothed nor fornicate with anyone but me" Sebastian devilishly smiled.

"You'll truly never allow me to fall in love? To be betrothed?" you whimpered as your heart sank. Sebastian leaned in even closer, "No husband will be able to protect you like me, isn't that the entire reason for this discussion? Y/N?".

You gasped as you felt Sebastian leave a trail of tender kisses down your neck, "Tell me your deepest desires...please...I need you" he softly groaned.

"Y-you will obey all my c-commands until my d-death, you will n-never discuss this n-negotiation with anyone but us and you will never lie to me" you choked as you felt the tip of his tongue glide slowly further down your neck.

You were in such a overwhelming daze of lust that you couldn't think clearly, which Sebastian took full advantage of, "I know you crave for more mistress so pledge to follow our contract". "I concur wholeheartedly" you breathlessly moaned without a second thought.

You weren't aware that all this passionate affection from Sebastian was nothing but a mere manipulation tactic. A hopeless romantic like you would never agree so readily to a contract of sexual slavery with a demon, so he needed to lure you in and you had completely fallen for it.