#because what is he outside of his worth to the team?

[late-to-the-party-81]

Delirious Decisions

AN: Thank you for tagging me @mercurial-chuckles in your Delirious Decisions. I’ve kept all the same prompts, but gone with some of my own pair ups. I’ve written a little something for each prompt, some as short as 200 words and some as long as around 900.

Some of my entries are little drabbles for some of my established pairings, but some are new and in fact three are set in Avengers Tower with a new reader insert who is an Avenger of currently unknown skills, nicknamed Pipsqueak by the team because of how short she is.

Ratings vary from G to E, but all are labelled. For some stories I haven’t specified the pairing at the start because I want the end reveal to be a surprise (but none of these stories include smut).

I hope you enjoy.

These are all un-beta’d and dividers are by @firefly-graphics and me.

Masterlist

Cuddle in a storm with 🛏️

Reader x Bucky Barnes. Rated T. Fluff and suggestive language. 230 words.

A gust of wind sent the raindrops hammering against the window, loud enough to startle you from your light doze. The arm around your shoulder tightened and a loving voice crooned in your ear. “It’s just the rain, Doll. Relax.”

You turned your head back into Bucky’s chest, nuzzling against his red henley. “‘M totally relaxed. How long’s i’ ‘posed to last?”

“Well into tomorrow. And we’re not supposed to go outside in it, unless we absolutely have to.”

Somehow you pressed your body even closer to the human furnace that was your boyfriend. “‘M not going anywhere.”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re not going to leave the couch? What are you going to do when I go to bed then?”

You let out a displeased grunt. “‘Kay. The couch or the bed.”

“Good,” he declared, decisively. “Because I would’ve been lonely all on my own.” Without warning he stood up, scooping you up as he did and you squeaked in shock.

“Bucky! Where are we going?”

“I want to go to bed,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But ‘m not tired!”

“I never mentioned sleep, Doll. There’s more things to do in bed than that, as you well know.” He grinned at you and you felt the heat rising up your neck. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he continued. “Keep me safe from the storm.”

Accidentally send a spicy text to 😳

Reader (Pipsqueak) x ? Rated T. Suggestive themes. 400 words

“Clint!” You really wanted to screech, but part of you recognised you still needed to maintain a modicum of discretion. You came to a skidding halt next to the blonde archer and he took in your distressed state.

“What is it, Pip?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that short,” you hissed. “And this is an emergency.”

With a raised brow, he hopped up onto the counter. “An emergency, huh? What sort of thing counts as an emergency in your world?”

You resisted the urge to bite out something scathing - that wouldn’t help, given the circumstances. “You know I’ve been seeing this guy, yeah?”

“Nathan, right?”

“Right. So things have been going… alright.” You couldn’t help but wring your hands.

“Only alright? I’m sure you deserve more than ‘alright’, kiddo.”

“Yeah, so that’s what I was trying to do - make it more than ‘alright’, by sending him a message to… you know… let him know…”

“Oh!” Clint’s eyebrows almost shot into his hairline. “You ‘sexted’ him, didn’t you. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pip. But what’s the emergency? Did your ‘freak’ scare him off? If so, he’s not worth it.”

“No… it’s that… Oh God, it’s so embarrassing.” You buried your head in your hands, trying to hide, before blurting out “Isentittothewrongperson.”

His eyes widened even further. You were worried they were going to jump out of their sockets. “Which wrong per- Oh. Oh!” In two seconds flat he’d gone from sharing your worry to falling sideways on the counter in hysterical laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” You smacked him on the thigh with the back of your hand. “What do I do?”

Suddenly a sultry voice sounded from the corridor outside the common room. 

“Kotenok! Where are you? I have some of those things you wanted to try.”

You squeaked and turned on your heel, shooting out the side door, Clint’s laughter still ringing in your ears.

A few moments later, Nat walked into the kitchen and settled on one of the bar stools next to Clint’s mostly horizontal body. “Are you gonna stop laughing?” she asked him. Clint drew in some ragged breaths and sat up, the evidence of his tears of amusement marking his face. “When you stop teasing her. She thinks you really thought the message was for you.”

Nat’s expression morphed into faux shock. “You mean it wasn’t?”

And they both burst out laughing again.

Get stuck in a "there’s only one-bed" scenario with Kiss and some 💋 🥵

Ari and his Angel. Rated M. Suggestive language and fluff. 400+ words

You looked at the bed, a little shocked and, if you were being honest, a little embarrassed. Yes you were a grown up, and did grown up things with other grown ups, but it felt weird that your parents were also aware — and accepting — of that. 

You turned to your mom who was standing in the doorway. “So, umm, are both Ari and I in here?” You side-eyed the queen-sized bed, which had been plenty big enough for you as a teen, but looked very small now when you considered both you and Ari fitting in it together.

“Well,” your mom replied with a hint of mischief in her eye, “unless you can magically create another spare room, or you’re willing to sleep on the sofa — because let’s face it, your boyfriend won’t fit on it — you are, indeed both in here. Just remember, there are other people in this house, and some things ought to stay private.”

Behind your mom you heard Ari cover a snort with a cough, but you couldn’t glare at him without her seeing, so you just smiled and considered the torture you’d be in for tonight.

—----

Ari’s lips kissed a trail across your shoulders, his nose nudging the thin straps of your pajama top to the side. His large body was curled up behind you, a tell-tale hardness poking at your ass.

“Ari, quit it.” You slapped at the arm wrapped around your waist, but both of you knew it was half-hearted. Nonetheless, he stopped his sensual exploration.

“You really mean that, Angel? You want me to lie here, next to you, and not touch you. You want me to torture us both?” God, you could almost hear the pout in his voice. 

“But you heard my mom. She was basically telling us that the walls are like paper. My parents knowing I have sex is bad enough, but them hearing it? I think I’d just die.”

The hand around your waist started to move, drawing light circles on your skin where your top had ridden up. “We’d just have to make sure you’re quiet, then.” He pressed his lips to your shoulder again, just once, leaving the ball in your court. He knew you needed him as much as he craved you. Several heartbeats of silence and then you were turning in his embrace and hooking your leg over his hip.

“I hope you’re ready to be covered in bruises from where I have to bite down to keep myself from crying out.”

He dipped his head and rubbed your noses together. “Angel, I’ll wear them with pride.”

Admire from behind (if you know what I mean) 🍑

There’s only one answer here. A little snippet of the Captain and his Brat. (I love you, then I hate you) Rated M. Mentions of corporal punishment in a D/S relationship. <300 words

Meetings were never your favourite thing - were they anybody’s? - but one thing that made it all worthwhile. Walking out after Steve. It would obviously have been better if he’d been wearing his tac suit, but his tan slacks did sterling service too, highlighting one of his best physical attributes. As he strolled down the corridor ahead of you, going over some of the points of the meeting with Rhodey, you decided to take in the view. God, your fingers itched to grab those two muscular globes and squeeze them. Give them a smack, or even sink your teeth into them. And then, if you did, what would Steve do to chastise you and put you in your place. You felt a rush of arousal pool in your core and you stumbled a bit as you walked. In front of you, you realised the exact moment Steve caught wind of your state, because there was a hitch in his own step and, without breaking his conversation, he glanced back over his shoulder at you and gave you a knowing look. You shivered at the heat contained within it.  

Steve and Rhodey came to a stop outside of the latter’s office, which gave you a chance to slip by them, but as you did, you couldn’t resist it. Careful to make sure no-one else saw, you gave Steve’s right buttock as strong a squeeze as your hand could manage. He let out a little cough as his only reaction, and you smiled to yourself as you continued past, wondering how your Captain would respond, in the name of keeping you in line…

Push down the stairs (Oh, boi😏) 🪜

Reader x Ransom (Yesterday’s Dream, Tomorrow’s Nightmare, Never-ending nightmare) Rated M. Prior kidnap, prior rape, basement wife, non-con collaring, violence. <500 words

All you had to do was wait for your moment. From the moment you’d been brought here, you knew that if you bided your time, then a way of escape would eventually present itself. You’d given up fighting days — weeks — ago. Ransom was going to do what he wanted, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking you over and over. Making him think that you were weak and resigned to your fate would work in your favour at some point. You had to hold on to that belief. The collar around your neck chaffed, but if your luck held, then it wouldn’t be long until you could discard the hated piece of leather. 

He had been fooled by your act once before, until he’d brought the other man — Ari — who’d seen right through your facade, but after that night you hoped that both men thought you were broken down. Your belief was bolstered by the fact that Ransom had started to let you out of the basement and into the house proper. It was always at night, when he’d sent his housekeeper and chef home, but it still allowed you to get a better idea of your surroundings. This evening he’d decided that he wanted to watch football on the frankly vulgar sized television while you cock-warmed him, first with your mouth and then with your cunt, until he tipped you forward onto the carpet and finished inside you. Now it was time for him to return you to your prison for the night.

You followed him, eyes downcast, as he led you back to the door. When he turned his back to you, so he could unlock the door, your breath caught in your throat, anticipating the right moment. You’d only have one chance. As the basement door was pulled wide, but before Ransom could step away from it, your arms shot out, all of your body weight put behind them. You shoved him. Right between the shoulder blades. The moments stretched into an eternity as you watched him wobble and hoped that it would work. His cry of surprise rent the air and his arms pinwheeled. One hand caught on the door frame, and without a moment’s hesitation you pushed him again, screaming your fury at him.

Ransom’s foot slipped and his balance faltered and in the next instant he was tumbling down, landing at the bottom with a sickening thud which morphed into an unnatural silence. You turned on your heel, running through the house towards the front door. There, on a side table, was a bowl containing car keys. You scooped them up and ran out of the front door. You clicked the remote, trying to identify which car they belonged to — there were several lined up under a carport. Lights flashed in the darkness and you ran towards them and your freedom.

Ruin in the best way possible 😈

I’d say ‘poor Joaquín’, but I don’t think he’s finding it too bad… (Ojos Asi) Rated E. Sexual Content, inc edging and mild bondage. 150+ words

“Dios! Mi sol!” You straddled Joaquín, your hips undulating as you rode him. Beneath you, your boyfriend’s arms strained against the leather cuffs binding his wrists to the headboard. How had you gotten so lucky to have a man like this? A man who looked so beautiful as you took him apart. After securing him, you’d teased his body with your fingers, lips and tongue, taking him into your mouth as he’d arched under your touch. You’d chuckled to yourself when he’d sworn out a litany of Spanish the second time you’d brought him to the edge, but refused to let him tumble over. However, you had promised him that the third time would be the charm. You held onto his thigh and rested your other hand on his chest as you moved, grinning down and taking in the view. Sweat sheened on his skin, his hair was delightfully mussed and his eyes almost black with desire. And you couldn’t wait to do it all again.

Invade the dreams of 💤

Reader x ?. Rated M. Pining, psychic powers, accidental mind invasion, implied smut. <900 words

It had started out as an accident. Your psychic powers were fairly new to you, having only started to manifest, sporadically, in your late teens. However, it hadn’t been more than a minor convenience until about six months back, when you found yourself accidently getting caught up inside other people’s heads. It had been frightening, for both you and the person concerned and you’d had a few close scrapes when some folk had followed up that fear with violence. Luckily for you it had only taken a few calls to SHIELD for someone to take you seriously, and you’d ended up here, in Avengers Tower, where you would have the space and help you needed to get your powers under control.

You’d mainly been working with Wanda and Loki — they were the ones best placed to help you — but you also spent time with all of the others. They were a nice bunch of people, all of them strong but damaged in their own ways. It made you feel as though you belonged. However, with one person in particular, that regard morphed into something else — a big fat crush.

Whenever you saw him, your breath caught in your throat and your heart started to beat that little bit faster. He was so charming. So strong and self-assured. Whenever you were alone you couldn’t help but think about him, wondering how it would feel to be held in his strong arms. To be kissed by his plush lips that always seemed to wear a smile. It therefore wasn’t a surprise to you when you started to dream about him.

Night after night, your subconscious made him the focus of your fantasies. Not all of them were x-rated, but a lot were, and you’d wake in sweat, an ache between your legs. How were you supposed to look at him in the light of day, with all these sordid thoughts spinning in your mind? And when you realised he seemed to be avoiding you, you couldn’t work out if that made it all better or worse. Yes, you didn’t have to see the sparkling blue of his eyes or the way sweat sheened on his muscles when he walked past after spending time in the gym, but a lack of contact during the day seemed to make your mind yearn for him more in the night. Your mentors noticed that you were withdrawn and made gentle enquiries, but how could you tell them the thoughts you were having?

A pounding on your door jerked you out of sleep — out of the latest erotic dream. You wiped your hand down your face before staggering to your feet. It couldn’t have been some massive emergency — FRIDAY would have notified you if it was — but you wondered who could want you at three twenty-seven am on a Wednesday morning.

You pulled the door open with more force than you meant, only to stop as you saw him there. Bare chested, breathing heavily, blonde hair all sleep-mussed and an unignorable tent in his pants. 

Thor.

As soon as he saw you he appeared to change his mind, making to step away without saying a word, until you grasped his wrist in your own small hand.

“Wait! What are you doing here? Why did you wake me?” How were you being so brave? You wanted to hide, to quake in your slippers, but the ache within you seemed to be pulling you forward. Onward.

Immediately he crowded through your door, kicking it shut behind him and cupping your face in his hands.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, his voice almost cracking from suppressed emotion.

“Doing what?” you replied, confused.

“Invading my dreams, little one. It’s maddening. I think that I have you in my arms and then I wake to find it was just a fantasy. I yearn for you, night after night. I am distracted by it. I need it to either be real or for it to stop. Do you understand? I can’t—”

Your jaw dropped open and your head spun. Had you been meeting Thor night after night in the dream-plane. Differing emotions clashed within you. Guilt at having invaded his mind in such a way, but also hope, because from what he was saying he wanted the reality as much as you did.

“I—” you started suddenly unsure how to answer. How did you tell a literal god that you burned for them? That you wanted them more than could be reasoned?

Thor let out a dejected sigh, apparently taking your silence for rejection. For the second time he made to move away and you were spurred out of your stupor and into action. You threw yourself forward, lurching up onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck and press your lips against his. You couldn’t tell him what you were thinking, but you could show him.

For a heartbeat he didn’t respond, but then his arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed you up against the wall of your room. His lips moved over yours, before his tongue demanded entry. You moaned into his mouth and bucked your hips against him, your dream induced ardour flaring back into life and enabling you to whisper out your need.

“Make it real. Please.” 

Fake a relationship with for drama 🎭

Reader x ? Rated T. Shenanigans. <500 words

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with him,” Wanda hissed in your ear as you leant against the bar and watched the other Avengers circulating around the ballroom, shaking down the great and good for more donations to Peppers current charity. 

“What’s not to believe,” you responded with a coy smile, not removing your gaze from the object of Wanda’s surprised outrage. “He’s handsome, he’s amusing, he’s got the skills.”

“He’s a murderer!” Wanda’s voice was less of a hiss now, and a few of the people near-by turned at her outburst. It was hard to hold back a grin. 

“Wanda, half the people in this room could be given that same label, depending on your outlook. And it’s not like he was in his right frame of mind.” Sensibly, your friend didn’t respond to that. The pair of you stood in silence a little longer until you downed the last of your drink and firmly placed the glass down. Straightening your spine you strode across the room, coming up behind him and placing your hand on his shoulder, and revelling in the feel of his velvet jacket against your palm.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Three heads turned in your direction, eyes of blue, brown and green. “Would you mind if I stole this one away? I have a hankering for a turn around the dance-floor, and this one is rather nimble on his feet.” Without waiting for a response, you looped your arm through his and drew him away. As you made your way to the space in front of the band, you could feel the incredulous stares of Steve and Tony behind you.

“Darling,” your companion whispered in your ear, “I believe we’re making a scene.” 

It was true, from the corner of your eye you could see people beginning to notice the pair of you. Your left hand went to his shoulder as his right rested on your waist, and your other hands joined together.

“They’re probably wondering if you’re going to corrupt me, or whether I’m going to reform you.” Suredly, Loki began to lead you around in time to the music.

He chuckled, low and silky. “I think it’s entirely possible for both to occur. However, what I can’t understand is how all of the others think you’re this meek and mild goody two-shoes. You’re living for this drama as much as I.” He dipped you, and it was difficult to suppress a full-blown belly laugh. “Minx,” he grinned at you. “How long until we can unsubtly leave and have people think we’re up to no good.”

“After this song, I would think.” You winked at him and he rolled his eyes with all the drama this little show deserved. 

“Careful, little one. I might start to think you really mean all of this.”

You pondered his words and wondered to yourself if that would actually be a bad thing at all….

Team up with for a heist 🕶️

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Clint. Rated G. Hi-jinx, Tower fic, Avengers as family, fluff, Shenanigans. <700 words.

You crept along the hallway behind your partner in crime, excited, but also a little scared. Not that there would be any real, horrific consequences if you got caught. This was all in the name of friendly mischief after all. Still…

You tapped Clint on the shoulder and he turned to face you, questioningly.

“Do you think we’ll get caught?” you sighed. He had his hearing aids in, but signing was far more stealthy when you were trying to sneak up on enhanced folk.

“Not if you stick to the plan. I’ll run interference and you grab the treasure.”

You nodded in agreement, and continued forward. When you reached the open door to the common room, you stopped again, waiting outside as Clint straightened up and strolled in, as if he had no cares in the world.

“Hey fellas!”

Okay, you thought from outside, no Nat or Wanda in there. Good to know.

“Hey, Barton.” The deep voice of Bucky answered, and you knew that if he was there, then…

“How’s it going, Clint?” … Steve was there as well. The two were joined at the hip and it was sickeningly sweet. However, outside of Nat, they were going to be the hardest to sneak past. You just had to trust that Clint could distract them.

“Well,” you heard him say, “it’s a funny story…” That was your queue. The plan was that he would start some long, rambling story that had no real conclusion to it while you snuck in the room and carefully grabbed your prize. Looking around the door frame you could see your heist partner and the muscled backs of two super-soldiers, whose body language still gave off an air of interest. With all the stealth you could muster, you tiptoed into the common room, thankful for the carpet on the floor that muffled your steps. However, you did need to get into the kitchenette, which had a tiled floor. 

Keeping low, you scurried across the open space and ducked down behind the counter. Clint was still droning on about his friend’s cousin’s son who’d found a one-eyed dog cowering behind a dumpster, and when he did an impression of said dog, letting out a mournful howl, you carefully opened the cupboard in front of you. There was your prize! You wanted to clap your hands in glee, but that would have to wait until later. 

It was a moment’s work to pull the cloth bag from your back pocket and you waited for Clint’s next sound-effect to grab what you came here to find. You heard Bucky sigh, loudly and unsubtly, and you waited with baited breath, hoping that Clint could hook him back into the story. The sudden sound of Clint trying to be a bomb seemed to work so you decided to do a grab and dash. Once you rounded the corner, back into the corridor, you sped up into a sprint, before jumping up to grab the vent-duct access door and scrabbling up into your and Clint’s not-so-hidden highway.

You crawled along until you got to the junction that was your current ‘nest’. A soft thunk and a snuffling noise let you know that your charge had woken up.

“Hey, boy.” You reached out and scratched the dirty yellow dog on the top of his head. A few minutes later, Clint appeared by your side, grinning.

“The secret to any lie is to mix in a bit of the truth,” he announced as he reached into the bag beside you and opened the bag of artisan jerky. He pulled out three pieces, passing one to you, shoving another into his mouth and holding the other one out in front of the dog.

“Here you go, Lucky. Some of Bucky and Steve’s personal stash. Full of protein and low on additives.” The animal quickly scoffed it down and started to look around for another piece. The whole bag was empty within a matter of minutes, which was about the same time the three of you heard wails of anguish echoing up into the metal vents.

“Clint! Pip! Where’s my goddamn jerky?”

Friend-zone for life 🛑

Reader (Pipsqueak) & Peter Parker. Rate T. Angst, Unrequited love, friendship, feels. Approx 650 words

“Oh, Peter.” You sighed and gave him a sad smile. The young avenger stood in front of you, his dark hair tamed within an inch of his life with gel, wearing a dress shirt and slacks and holding a slowly wilting bunch of flowers in his hand. It was obvious that he’d heard you griping about your lacklustre love-life and how frustrating it was to be single in the lead up to Valentine’s day, because here he was, standing at your door with the most hopeful look on his face and you were about to break his heart.

“Please hear me out,” he garbled. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, but they say that age is just a number, and it’s not that big of an age gap, and like I’m in my prime and so are you, you know, for umm…” he trailed off as he turned bright pink.

You held back a second sigh — it wouldn’t help — and stepped back from your door to allow him to enter. It wouldn’t do to have this conversation out in the corridor. “Come in. Sit down.”

Peter scurried over to your couch and sat down on the edge of it, his hands holding the bouquet in a death grip. You took a careful seat on the single armchair opposite. “Look, Peter. I’m not going to say I’m not flattered — you’re a good looking young man and you have a lot to commend you — but I’m not what you’re looking for and you’re not what I’m looking for.”

“Oh.” His head dropped and you felt like the scum of the earth. He reminded you of a kicked puppy. “I just thought…”

“I know you did. And let me tell you, when I was your age there is no way I would have approached someone I had a crush on, especially if they were older than me.”

“You’re only nine years older,” he started to argue, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

“Yes, and when you’re my age, nine years older doesn’t mean that much. However, when you’re your age, nine years is a lot. But it’s not even that. I don’t want you thinking you can wait a few years and try again. I don’t want to upset you — I never would, you mean too much to me — but I’ve seen you grow up. I’ve known you since you were fifteen. I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re my friend — my honorary little brother. I’m never going to be able to love you the way you want and the way you deserve.”

Peter seemed to slump even further, making him look even smaller and even younger. And then you heard the sniff.

“This was stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” He suddenly stood up and pressed the heel of his palm to his eye. You turned your head away, trying to give him a semblance of privacy to get himself under control. 

“I’m sorry, too. I hope we can still be friends.”

“Yeah. Friends.” There was a petulant note in his voice, but you couldn’t be mad at him. His emotions were currently in charge. “You can keep the flowers. Or bin them. Whatever.” He dropped them on your coffee table and stalked over to the door, leaving your apartment and letting it bang shut behind him.

Now you let out that sigh, cradling your head in your hands as the emotional anguish washed over you. You peered at the flowers, a few of them now hanging limply on snapped stems.

“FRIDAY,” you called out. “Can you ask Tony to go and find Peter? I think he could do with a friend right now.”

“Sure,” the AI responded. “And would you like me to ask Mr Barton to come to you?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

Adopt a pet with 🐾

For this I’ve picked M’Baku and his Sabi-Star ([River Deep] Mountain High). Rated G. Fluff. Approx 350 words.

You pressed yourself to M’Baku’s side, both awed and wary at what was in front of you.

“When I said I wanted a pet to keep me company, I was thinking about something a little more ‘lap’ friendly. Or at least manoeuvrable.”

Your lover laughed beside you, the sound rumbling in his chest as much as it rumbled through the air. “Yes, but here in Wakanda, we don’t do anything by halves. And these animals are well trained and extremely loyal. Better than any dog.”

You looked at him pointedly, still not convinced.

“Ah, Sabi. Come,” he cajoled.  “We must get closer and let them know you. Maybe pet one of the babies?”

You transferred your gaze from him to one of the babies in question. You did have to admit that they were pretty cute, especially when they ran and their ears flapped around. Giving a small nod of assent, you carefully paced forward, concentrating on these animals that were almost entirely unknown to you - outside of textbooks and the odd zoo visit at least.

M’Baku held out his hand in front of him, and you copied his action, moving cautiously, and the baby Rhinoceros huffed at the pair of you, seemingly disappointed that neither of you held some kind of treat. It moved closer, and you held your breath as it snuffled at your robes, still hoping that you hadn’t arrived empty handed. 

Slowly, you reached out your hand and scratched the youngster behind one of its leathery ears and a giggle escaped you. Of all the things you’d experienced here in Wakanda, this was the most surreal. Suddenly, one of the adult rhino’s let out a bellow and the calf’s ears pricked up before it turned on its heels and trotted back over to the rest of the herd.

Behind you, W’Kabi sniggered. “That one is curious, unomdla. He will make a great War Rhino when he is grown. He is not frightened of one thing.”

“Yes,” M’Baku agreed. “Akọni.”

You watched the rhino calf frolic in the grass with the other youngsters, and felt yourself smile as your heart melted.

“Akọni.”

Take on a late-night drive with 🚗

Reader x Lee Bodecker. Rated E. Blowjob, unsafe driving, future sexy time discussed. Approx 250 words.

“Fuck, darlin’! That mouth on you.” The car lurched to the side, before coming back under control.

You pulled off Lee’s cock with a pop and smiled up at him. “Eye’s on the road, Sheriff. You don’t wanna get pulled over for dangerous driving.” You continued to jack him in your spit slicked hand. “You just get us to the look-out safely, and if you manage not to come, then maybe I’ll let you add a little cream to my peach pie.” You gave him a theatrical wink and then resumed your task, licking and slurping all over his shaft before widening your lips over his fat tip. 

You hadn’t planned on giving Lee road-head on the way out to ‘your spot’, but you’d been feeling some kinda way all day, and just couldn’t wait a moment longer to get your hands on him. You loved the way his soft flesh filled your hands. How the weight of him on top of you, spent and sated, made you feel safe and relaxed. And you knew, that even if he did blow in your mouth he wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied — he was good with his mouth and hands and he could keep you warm with those until he recovered. Now that you thought about it, that was feeling like a better idea. You hummed and felt him twitch, then slid your hand down to massage his balls.

It turns out that going for a late-night drive could be fun…

Let them fight your battles (while you swoon) 🛡️

This is definitely Nick Fowler and his spoiled brat (Ice Sculpture, Satin and Lace for my lover). Rated M. Violence, Suggestive language. Approx 450 words.

“Come on, darling. You look like you wanna have some fun.”

You reared back and wrinkled your nose as the guy who’d been pestering you all evening, and been getting subsequently more and more drunk, lurched back into your personal space.

“I do, which is why I came here tonight. With my friends. And why I kept telling you ‘no’. Now take the hint and go away.” This man had been the only blot on your night out with friends, and now he had followed the group of you out of the club. Of course he still didn’t engage the last few brain cells he had left, and his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Frigid bitch.”

Instead of being outraged, you rolled your eyes. Now, you could deal with this yourself but it would be far more interesting to watch—

A third hand appeared, gripping your assailant the way he was gripping you, except that this third hand squeezed a lot harder. The man let go of you with a cry and was wrenched away from you with a large amount of force. He staggered, his balance severely impaired, but he wasn’t allowed to fall. Because Nick wasn’t done with him yet.

The drunkard didn’t really know what was going on when the punch landed on the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, but in contrast Nick looked totally unruffled, albeit very angry. God he was magnificent. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation, barely noticing the discomfort of your friends at the violence unfolding. Or maybe you just didn’t care.

A second punch followed the first and this time Nick let the man fall, but only so he could follow it up with a violent kick to the ribs, and a stamp to his outstretched hand. He hadn’t even said a word.

Satisfied that the drunken scum wasn’t getting up anytime soon, Nick turned and walked toward you, carelessly wiping away the blood from his knuckles with the handkerchief from his pocket. When he reached you, he cradled your cheek in his palm and you relaxed into it.

“Are you alright, dragostea mea?” His voice was full of concern.

“I’m fine, Nicky. Just need you to take me home.”

“Yes, you need to rest after such a shock.”

You looked up at him, a mix of incredulity and condescension. “No, Nicky, I need you to bend me over and rail me until I cry.”

“Well, who would I be if I denied a lady her wish?”

With a chuckle, you linked your arm through his and let him lead you over to where his car was parked, totally oblivious to the expressions of shock behind you.

Flirt shamelessly with 🌶️

Reader x Tony. Rated M. Sexual Banter, Innuendo, HR nightmare conversations. 550 words.

“You wanted to see me?” You walked into Tony’s office and closed the door behind you. Not because you wanted privacy, per se, but more to stop anyone else overhearing your banter and reporting the pair of you to HR.

Your boss, and friend, looked up from his desk with a big grin on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I always want to see you, Bun-bun.”

You grinned back as you walked closer and perched yourself up on the antique mahogany. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Tone.”

Tony clasped his hand theatrically to his chest. “You wound me, Bunny. As if I would restrict my attention to just your sex. Think of all the disappointed fellas.”

A chuckle bubbled up your throat, but you only indulged it for a moment. You were here for work after all. “So what can I do you for, my Liege?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere… but yes, actual adulting.” Tony rolled his eyes and you resisted the urge to smirk — he was so dramatic. “We — and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’ — need to chase up Cyber-research on their report into the latest AI automaton, Prosthetics need to feedback on, well, the feedback issues and I need a Non-fat, almond milk, Venti Caramel Frappucino.”

Your left eyebrow rose up into your hairline. “One, what did your last slave die of? And two, I thought you only drank black coffee?”

Tony lent across the desk, getting closer to you as if he had some kind of secret to reveal. “In reverse order, Pepper tells me I ought to have a more varied diet and if you, sweet Rabbit, were my slave, I would definitely have you doing far more interesting, and stimulating things, than chasing reports and picking up coffee. Alas, you are merely my PA. Although I do have an opening for a slave position.”

“Just the one position? You disappoint me, boss. I’d expect you to be far more versatile.”

He shrugged with a facade of nonchalance. “I can be versatile, just ask — actually, no. Don’t ask them. It didn’t end well. Anyway, chop-chop. The quicker you leave, the sooner you come back with my coffee and I can continue to convince you of the benefits of being my personal servant as opposed to my personal assistant.”

You pushed yourself off the desk and smoothed down your skirt. “It’s a good thing I can take all of this in the manner in which it’s meant, Tony. Anyone else would have you watching a disappointed Cap video about sexual harassment.” 

At your comment, Tony pulled a disgusted face and you giggled as you walked towards the door. You took hold of the knob, turned it and were about to make your exit when Tony decided that he had, of course, to have the last word. “If there’s ever anything else you want to take—” he waggled his eyebrows, “— I have privacy glass in this office.” 

You clicked your tongue, flipped him your middle finger and went back to your job, with a shake of your head. Not everyone could handle Tony, but you had to say it made your days that bit more interesting. And who knew, maybe, one day, you’d take him up on his offer.

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[qoldenskies]

i think a lot of people pretty openly acknowledge that leo is someone that self-aggrandizes and acts reckless in order to compensate for his insecurities, which is true and it's very clearly spelled out especially in the movie, but i don't really see people acknowledge the fact that donnie is the EXACT same way (outside of people who specifically like to write a lot of angst for him. leo is forever designated sadboy of the fandom). which is sad, because i think it's the most twin-like thing about them!!

it's a trait they share pretty openly. same flavor of daddy issues, although leo is always wanting to look down, to be the BEST at something, to be admired and respected and trusted, to be above other people, while donnie is always wanting to look up, the whole approval from a parental aged adult thing is the largest example but i also think about his desperation for CAMARADERIE in the purple jacket, and also like, lol the entirety of mind meld. he wants to be understood and acknowledged and praised and he practically begs for it with everything he does.

both of them desperately want to impress! but i kind of interpret it as leo trying to make a point to himself more than to other people, because he is so caught up in his own self-judgement. it's why he can act rude or try to step over the others (raph especially, although early on there is some mutual toxicity in that relationship) in order to prove that point.

but donnie has a lot more self-security because he knows what he does! he knows he's good at it, i don't think there's any denying that. but under real praise he gets starry-eyed or he softens. he makes a big point out of presenting new things because that's what he's looking for. and i think that makes him so averse to the potential of failure. it's why he'll shrug it off or outright deny it when its brought up to him. he sucks so bad at taking responsibility lmao.

i think mind meld in particular is a very telling episode, especially the beginning of it. he gets rash and upset when he feels like he's doing too much on his own. he feels ignored and disrespected for his efforts, and makes bad decisions as a result. and between that and donnie's gifts it's very very obvious he is projecting the fact that he equates his usefulness, his role, to his self-worth as a person. a lot of that crowing confidence is not real. he is MAJORLY overcompensating just like leo is. (and i would also like to point out the kind of things he makes shelldon RESPOND to in smart lair before he's reprogrammed, like leo's ribbing)

idk, i just feel like donnie wants to be seen and leo wants to be able to see himself, although there is some overlap there and the two problems can bleed into each other.

(and i do think a big point of leo's arc in the movie is for him to genuinely stop being selfish. his insecurity gets in the way and he's thinking about himself when he acts, and that's what hurts people. all of them have the potential to be self-centered, but leo's behavior was putting people in danger, and he had to look past all of that because he has ALWAYS been a strong and capable person and a good leader, but he was afraid of it because he was setting the goalpost for himself too high, and it was RAPH'S thing. it all felt too daunting. he's never going to feel ready if he only thinks about himself. at a point it's just not about him. as dubious as his sacrifice at the end was, that was the point. get him some therapy for that blunder though)

and i think it has a lot of potential to make them clash in a really interesting way. donnie's like,,, got his THING!! leo is not CONFIDENT in his thing!! and he can't ever be better than donnie at his particular thing, so he LEAPS onto any chance to get one over on him, which clashes very badly with donnie's issues of easily feeling dejected or unappreciated. he's going to take that personally, and then leo is going to take donnie's bad interpretation of that behavior personally, because like... why doesn't donnie trust him? :((

anyways they are majorly twinning they are both dramatic unconfident bitches with self-worth issues and they both get louder and meaner when they feel hurt about something. its why i keep accidentally writing angst of the other when i try to write angst of one. ahaha lol oops

sorry ive had this blog for only a few hours i just needed to get my thoughts down mostly for myself. for writing purposes

[sunni-stuff]

Standing outside your apartment, Simon tightened his grip around the wooden toy train, the corners of the box digging slightly into his palm. His heart thrummed uncomfortably in his chest—a sensation far too foreign for someone who’d faced down worse odds than this. He was used to calculating risks, taking them head-on, but this? This wasn’t a battlefield; it was something infinitely more terrifying. He was meeting his daughter.

He cast a glance at the train in his hand, a sturdy, well-crafted toy he and Johnny had spent hours picking out earlier that day. The shopkeeper’s amused expression still lingered in his mind—two grown men scrutinizing toy trains as though the fate of the world rested on their choice. You hadn’t been specific, just a train, no frills, nothing cartoonish. And so Simon had chosen the simplest one, figuring it was better to err on the side of practicality.

Beside him, Johnny leaned casually against the wall, spinning a plastic-cased mermaid Barbie in his hands. The vibrant teal-and-pink packaging clashed starkly with the air of seriousness Simon carried.

Simon scowled, his gaze darting to the doll. “I told you, no dolls. She said no dolls.” His voice was low and rough, almost a growl, though it carried more nervous energy than actual anger.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, smirking as he turned the Barbie over in his hands. “What kid doesn’t like a Barbie? Eh? You’re overthinking this, big man.” His Scottish accent lent an irreverent edge to his words. “Besides, it’s just a backup. If she doesn’t like the train—which, let’s face it, is a bloody long shot—I’ve got something she’s bound to love.”

Simon shot him a sharp look. “It’s not about the toy,” he muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s about… makin’ an impression. Proper one.”

Johnny’s smirk softened, his usual teasing tone giving way to something closer to sincerity. “And you think that’s all ridin’ on a train? C’mon, mate, it’s you she’s meeting, not just some toy. Kids aren’t daft—they know when someone’s tryin’.” He tilted his head toward the toy in Simon’s hand. “But, for what it’s worth, that train’s not bad. Proper classic. No gimmicks.”

Simon grunted in response, his attention flicking back to the apartment door. It was a quiet, unassuming building, but the pressure of what lay beyond that door was immense. You were in there with her—Adira. His daughter. The thought still felt surreal, even after the days he’d spent turning it over in his mind. He’d seen her before, from a distance, but that was different. This was too personal in a way he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

“I should’ve brought the others,” Simon muttered under his breath, more to himself than Johnny.

Johnny’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Aye, because showin’ up with the whole bloody team wouldn’t be overwhelming at all, eh? ‘Here’s yer dad, and here’s his army of uncles.’ Real subtle.”

Simon huffed a dry laugh despite himself, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. Johnny always had a knack for cutting through his nerves, even when Simon wasn’t in the mood for it.

The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door snapped Simon’s attention back to the moment. His pulse quickened as the lock turned, and the door creaked open to reveal you standing there, a mixture of caution and curiosity etched into your expression. You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze darting between Simon, Johnny, and the toys in their hands.

“Hi,” Simon managed, his voice quieter than he’d intended. He cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the train. “Uh… thought I’d bring somethin’ she might like.”

You glanced at the train, then at Johnny’s Barbie, raising an eyebrow. “I see Johnny didn’t listen,” you comment dryly, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone.

Johnny grinned, unbothered. “Insurance, lass. Always good to have a backup plan.”

Stepping aside, you gestured for them to come in. “Well, let’s see how this goes. She’s in the living room.”

Simon felt the air grow heavier as he crossed the threshold, each step bringing him closer to something he’d been equal parts dreading and hoping for. The sound of quiet giggles and the rustle of toys came from the living room, and he stopped short in the hallway, his hand tightening instinctively around the train.

“You okay?” you asked curiously, your question laced with something he couldn’t quite place—concern? Reassurance?

He nodded stiffly, though he wasn’t entirely sure who he was convincing. “Yeah,” he said, masking his unease. This wasn’t the time to let emotions run wild, not when his daughter was just a few steps away. He needed to reel everything, keep composed.. “Just… takin’ a moment.”

Johnny clapped him on the shoulder, his grin unfaltering. “You’ve got this, mate. And if all else fails—” he held up the Barbie with a dramatic flourish—“I’ve got you covered.”

Simon rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered dryly.

He took a grounding breath, then stepped into the living room. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks—Adira, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a miniature train set spread out before her. Her dark hair fell in delicate curls around her face, and her eyes, so startlingly like his own, lit up with delight as she guided a tiny train along the tracks.

The world seemed to narrow, every noise fading into the background except for the sound of her soft laughter. This was his daughter, and for the first time, he wasn’t just watching from afar—he was here.

Adira looked up, her curious gaze locking onto him. Simon’s heart leapt into his throat as she tilted her head, studying him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Before he could speak, Johnny stepped forward, a grin plastered across his face as he crouched beside her.

"Hey, bonnie lass," Johnny greeted, bringing in  warmth and cheerfulness. He held out the mermaid Barbie, its plastic casing shimmering in the soft light. “Look what I got for ye.”

Adira blinked at him, her small head tilting to the side in the same assessing way she’d done with Simon. Then, in a voice as sweet as it was blunt, she said, “Ugee.”

Simon held back a laugh, but Johnny froze, his grin faltering. Did she just call me ugly again? he thought, momentarily stunned before recovering with a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, come on, lass. That’s no way to treat yer Uncle Johnny,” he teased, though his pride was clearly bruised. He pushed the doll a little closer, his voice softening. “It’s for you. Look—she’s got a shiny tail and everything.”

Adira’s expression shifted, her curiosity piqued as she finally reached for the doll. Johnny’s face lit up with relief, and he turned to you and Simon with a victorious smirk. “Told ya,” he mouthed, his tone smug.

Simon raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, while you merely crossed your arms, waiting for what you knew was coming.

The sound of plastic ripping shattered Johnny’s moment of triumph. His head whipped around just in time to see Adira pull the doll free from its packaging with surprising efficiency. She studied it for a moment, her tiny fingers gripping the head and the body. And then—pop—the doll’s head came clean off.

Johnny’s jaw dropped as he watched Adira inspect the decapitated doll with silent satisfaction. She set the head down beside her, then held up the now-headless body, apparently contemplating her next move.

Simon let out a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement as Johnny gawked at the scene, his earlier smugness entirely gone. “Well,” Simon drawled, unable to hide his dry humor. “Guess she wasn’t a fan after all.”

Johnny turned back to you and Simon, his expression caught between disbelief and betrayal. “What… what kind of kid just does that?!” he demanded, gesturing wildly at the scene behind him.

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I warned you about the dolls.”

Johnny shook his head, still reeling as he muttered under his breath, “She’s Sid from Toy Story incarnate, I swear.”

Adira, seemingly unbothered by the fuss, returned her focus to her trains, contentedly adding the doll’s head to a makeshift pile of "cargo." Johnny looked ready to protest further, but Simon stepped forward, crouching to her level and holding out the wooden train.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, his voice steady despite the lingering laughter in his chest. “I brought you somethin’. Thought you might like it.”

Adira didn’t respond right away, her eyes bouncing between him and the toy. Then, slowly, she reached out, her small fingers brushing against the train before taking it from his hands. Unlike the Barbie, she carefully opened the box, her movements deliberate and methodical. She removed the wooden train gently, inspecting it for a moment. Without a word, she added it to the tracks, her attention already back on her play as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Simon stayed crouched, watching her intently. A flicker of relief crossed his face at her acceptance of the gift. The room, heavy with unspoken tension just moments before, now felt lighter, though Simon could feel the enormity of the moment pressing against his chest.

You appeared at his side, crouching slightly to meet his eye, a small grin on your lips. “That’s a good sign,” you murmured, keeping your voice low. “She doesn’t usually let people touch her trains.”

Simon exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His gaze flickered back to Adira, watching as she carefully positioned the new train car alongside the others, her focus unwavering. It wasn’t much—just a small gesture—but it felt monumental. A start.

“She’s got good taste,” Simon adds, a touch of pride in his tongue as he nodded toward the tracks. “Knows quality when she sees it.”

You chuckled, the sound easing the edges of Simon’s nerves. “It’s not just that,” you replied, your eyes lightening as you watched Adira. “Trains are her world. If she’s letting you into it, even a little…” You trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Simon nodded, his throat tightening with a mix of emotions he wasn’t used to confronting. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply watch her, the curve of her cheek, the determined set of her brow as she pushed the train forward, creating a soft click-clack noise against the wooden tracks. He thought of all the moments he’d missed, all the firsts that had come and gone without him. But now, sitting there on the floor of your apartment, watching his little girl play, he felt something unfamiliar: hope.

“It’s a start,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. And for now, that was enough.

Johnny hung back near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the tender scene unfold. Simon, a man he’d always seen as unshakable and stoic, was crouched beside Adira, his usually guarded expression diminished by a rare, genuine grin. Johnny didn’t dare interrupt—this wasn’t his moment. He was just a spectator, standing on the sidelines as a long-standing divide finally began to close.

The warmth in the room tugged at Johnny’s own heart, and though he wasn’t one for sentimentality, the sight was too good to pass up. Without a word, he slipped his phone from his pocket, angling it just right to snap a quick picture. Simon’s grin, lopsided and proud, was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp, his large frame almost comically dwarfed by the tiny train set and the little girl at its center.

Satisfied with the shot, Johnny smirked to himself as he typed out a caption: “Big man, small trains. Heart officially melted. ” He hit send, the photo shooting off to the group chat where the lads were bound to have a field day with it.

Moments later, his phone buzzed with a flurry of responses:

Roach: “Never thought I’d see Ghost look so human.”

Gaz: “He’s got the ‘Dad Look’ down already. Almost feel bad making fun of him.”

Price: “I don’t. Send more pics.”

Stifling a snicker, Johnny shoved his phone back into his pocket. He glanced back at Simon, who was completely absorbed in Adira’s world, watching as she pushed the new train along the tracks with the utmost concentration. The sheer joy and focus on her face seemed to draw Simon further into her orbit, as if nothing else existed but the tiny, clacking train set.

Johnny shook his head fondly. Big, scary Ghost, he thought, brought to his knees by a wee lass and a wooden train. It was a sight he’d never forget.

Johnny slipped out of the apartment with a quiet click of the door, leaving the two of you in a silence that felt both comfortable and weighty. His absence left the air clearer, yet filled with the unspoken. As Adira remained engrossed in her trains, her murmurs creating a gentle rhythm in the background, you found your mind racing with a single, unrelenting question:

What now?

Giving her toys was one thing. Simon showing up, physically present, was a start. But the path ahead of you wasn’t so simple. Building a connection took more than gifts and fleeting moments. Adira was too young to truly grasp the gravity of this shift in her world. Telling her outright that Simon was her father didn’t feel right—not now. That conversation would be better left for a day when she could fully understand it.

You rose from your position near him, brushing off your knees as you took a real long look at her. There it was, in her little mannerisms, her sharp focus, the way her brow furrowed just slightly as she concentrated—it was him. So much of him. And the way Simon’s gaze relaxed as he watched her? You could see it, plain as day. He wanted to be there for her.

And you wanted her to be happy.

The realization hit you with clarity: the best way to make this transition smooth was to let Simon find his place naturally. He couldn’t make up for all the firsts he’d missed, but there was still time for so many more moments.

“So…” you began, your voice quiet but heavy, the word hanging between you like an unspoken question. You turned to face Simon, watching him carefully as he sat cross-legged on the floor, his broad frame surprisingly small in this intimate space. He was still holding that wooden train, his fingers gently brushing over the smooth surface like it was something sacred.

Simon looked up at you, his eyes catching yours, and he shifted slightly, his posture relaxed, but there was something else—something vulnerable yet determined. "So," he echoed, his voice unshakable, though you could hear the undertone of apprehension, a slight tremor of uncertainty beneath his calm façade. He wanted to be open, to show you he was ready for whatever was coming next, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

You crossed your arms, not out of defiance but out of the need to ground yourself. It was a physical gesture, a way to hold yourself steady in the face of everything that had led to this moment. “This isn’t going to be easy,” you said, the words a simple statement, but they carried meaning.

“I didn’t expect it to be,” Simon replied, his voice firm, the same way it would sound in the midst of a mission, when the stakes were high. The seriousness in his tone wasn’t lost on you. But there was more than just the soldier in him now—there was a father. "But I’m here. I want to try. For her." His eyes darted to Adira, his gaze lingering on her as she lined up her train set with careful precision. It was a look filled with fierce, almost protective determination, and it tugged at your chest.

“For her,” you agreed, your heart swelling with the truth of it. “She deserves that. But it’s not just about showing up with toys. It’s about showing up for her. Being there when she needs you, even if it’s hard. Even if she pushes you away at first.”

Simon’s jaw tightened as you spoke, and you saw the muscles in his neck flex, as though he was fighting against something—maybe the grandness of what this all meant, maybe his own doubts. “I can do that,” he said after a pause, his voice low but resolute. “I will.”

“You’ll have to.” Your tone tender, but you still held that edge of playful taunting. It was your way of testing the waters, of gauging if he was truly prepared for what this would take. “She’s stubborn. Wonder where she gets that from.”

Simon huffed a quiet laugh, and a faint smirk forming on his mouth. For a brief moment, the walls he’d built around himself seemed to weaken, just a little. “Aye, can’t imagine,” he replied, the humor easing some of the tension in the room.

There was a pause, the room settling into a calm that hadn’t been there before. You watched as Simon glanced back at Adira, his eyes lingering on her as she placed another train down, her little brow furrowed in concentration. The sight was almost too much for him—this was his flesh and blood, sitting right there in front of him, in this quiet, domestic world he hadn’t been a part of.

“First things first—likes and dislikes.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but you didn’t wait for him to respond. You turned on your heel and slipped into the kitchen, the quiet tension that had settled between you both diminishing. Simon, sitting cross-legged on the floor near Adira, was still absorbing the weight of everything unfolding. His gaze followed you as you disappeared into the next room, the brief silence stretching between the two of you.

When you returned, you were holding a file—nothing flashy, just a plain folder. You approached him and handed it over, watching as he hesitated, the weight of the paper in his hands heavier than it appeared.

The sight inside that greeted him threw him off guard—pages upon pages of meticulously written details. At first glance, it looked like a detailed report, every section filled with information about Adira’s daily routine, preferences, and even the smallest of habits. Her favorite snacks, the way she liked her sandwiches cut in triangles. Each page was packed with specifics: her reactions to certain foods, her favorite colors, how she responded to certain sounds and even what she liked to do on rainy days—took him completely off guard.

Simon blinked at it, flipping through the pages as if trying to find a sense of grounding in the flood of information. It was overwhelming, but what struck him the most was how thorough it was—how much you had put into it. Everything about her, everything you alone learned over the years, all laid out for him to see.

The file was thick, packed with details. The more he flipped through, the more surprised he became. Notes jotted in neat handwriting with labeled sections.There wasn’t just filled with cold, clinical notes. It also contained moments of tenderness, small anecdotes about how Adira reacted to certain situations or things that made her smile. You had carefully noted the songs she liked to sing along with, how she would curl up on the couch when she was feeling down, the exact way she liked her bedtime story read.

Simon looked up at you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. “What is all this?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with surprise.

You offered him a faint smile, though there was no real humor in it. “Before you think I’m crazy or paranoid,” you began, raising your hands slightly in defense, “I work at the daycare around the corner, and Adira comes with me. It’s policy to keep these records—just in case. You know, since some kids have allergies, or there are specific things we need to be aware of.”

He nodded, still flipping through the file, as if seeing this list of Adira’s little quirks and habits for the first time made her seem more real. More like a child who had to be cared for, understood, and loved in ways that went far beyond simply showing up with a toy.

“I didn’t know you’d been keeping track of all of this,” A look of genuine surprise crossed his face. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’d been doing so much.”

You shrugged slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “It’s nothing. Just making sure she’s okay.” There was an edge of vulnerability to your words, as if you were downplaying the emotional weight of it all.

Simon’s fingers lingered on the pages, his gaze skimming the words as if trying to understand the depth of the commitment you had for Adira. It wasn’t just about her well-being, it was about every little thing that made her, her.

“You really do know everything about her, don’t you?” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It wasn’t about control or being overprotective—it was about ensuring that every part of Adira’s world was in order, even when you weren’t looking.

“I know what she likes, what she dislikes. I know how she reacts when she’s tired or overstimulated. I know what makes her laugh and what makes her cry. It’s not about keeping tabs, it’s about making sure she feels safe. Especially with everything changing right now.”

Simon absorbed your words quietly, the weight of the file heavy in his hands. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. You had been doing this alone for so long—carrying the weight of all these little details, managing the complexity of motherhood without the support he should’ve been offering.

“She’s lucky,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’ve done more than I can even imagine.”

You didn’t say anything at first. The simplicity of his words caught you off guard, making you feel a bit exposed. “It’s just what you do for them,” you replied, your voice softer now, more vulnerable. “You do what you can to make sure they’re okay.”

Simon closed the file slowly, processing what it meant. He felt a surge of something—guilt, maybe, or a quiet ache—as he realized just how much he’d missed. He’d been absent for so many of the small, seemingly insignificant moments that made up Adira’s life. And now, looking at the file, he could feel the weight of his absence more than ever.

“I want to know it all,” Simon said quietly, his voice full of resolve. “Every little thing. I don’t care how small it seems. I want to learn everything about her.”

Your heart skipped at his words, and for the first time, you felt a sense of stability knowing he’d be around to lift some of the hardship off your shoulders. For once, it wouldn’t just be you anymore.

“Good,” Your voice filled with quiet approval. “Because it’s going to take time. And you’ll need to be patient.”

“I can do that,” he replied, his jaw set with determination. “I’m not going anywhere.”

By 6 AM sharp, there he was—a solid, familiar figure standing at your door with his sleeves rolled up and a faint, hesitant smile. He never asked if you needed help; he simply showed up, ready to lend a hand. Simon didn’t just want to be in your life—he wanted to belong in it. Every visit to your apartment wasn’t just about showing up; it was about figuring out how to bridge the gap between her world and his. You had been Adira's anchor, her everything. Simon understood that, respected it, but he was intent on creating his own place in her little universe—one small gesture at a time.

At first, his kitchen skills left a lot to be desired. You insisted you could handle breakfast on your own, but Simon waved you off, determined to prove himself. Adira sat in her highchair, small fingers clutching a slice of strawberry as she watched her father with wide, curious eyes. He wrestled with the stovetop like it was an enemy combatant, flipping pancakes that somehow always ended up sticking or splattering in every direction. A particularly ambitious flip sent batter flying, splattering across his shirt and the counter.

Adira paused mid-chew, her sharp little eyes zeroing in on the mess. "Messy man," she mumbled around the strawberry, her tone matter-of-fact but laced with childish amusement.

Simon froze, mid-swipe with a paper towel, and glanced at her, eyebrows shooting up. “What’d you call me?”

"Messy man," she repeated, a little more confidently this time, giggling as she pointed at the batter streaked across his chest.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Simon groaned, shaking his head with mock exasperation. “I’ll remember that,” he muttered, though there was no hiding the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

Despite the mishaps, he never gave up. Day by day, the kitchen disasters became fewer. He learned that Adira liked her pancakes shaped like stars if you had the time and that a dollop of whipped cream on top made her clap her hands with delight. He discovered she preferred her strawberries sliced thin, not chunky, and that she hated the crusts on toast but loved when it was cut into neat little triangles.

More importantly, while you were around, Adira began to interact with him in ways you hadn’t expected. She would babble at him as he cooked, her little hands waving animatedly as though she was offering advice. He listened as if she were telling him the most important secrets in the world, nodding solemnly and responding in his deep, rumbling voice.

One morning, as he handed her a plate with her favorite star-shaped pancakes, she looked up at him with a toothy smile, “Thank you, messy man.”

Simon froze, his grip tightening on the plate for just a second before he crouched down to her level. “You’re welcome, love,” The endearing nickname left his lips with ease, carrying an edge of something raw and tender.

You stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold with a lump in your throat. This wasn’t just about breakfast. It was about Simon trying—every single day—to show her that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was clumsy and imperfect, but it was real. And you couldn’t help but feel the faint stirrings of something like hope, watching the way Adira’s small world seemed to expand to make room for him.

After some time of this new, unspoken pattern settling in—one that felt like a quiet, gradual understanding—Adira seemed to begin warming up to Simon. It wasn’t as deep or instantaneous as it had been with you, but it was enough. Enough for her to sit at the table, nibbling on the pancakes he’d made. Enough to sit near him and listen to his voice without the immediate urge to run to you. And, perhaps most telling, enough for her to offer him a strawberry one morning before daycare.

Still, there were unspoken boundaries. She wouldn’t let him touch her trains, a sacred realm of hers he dared not trespass. And after a while of him being nearby, she’d often wander back to you, clutching at your leg or climbing into your lap, needing the reassurance of your proximity. 

You saw it in Simon’s eyes sometimes, the flicker of hurt that he quickly masked, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. But it did. You could tell. Adira was studying him from the safety of her bubble, keeping her distance as if trying to figure him out. You couldn’t blame her. Adira had lived her life with you as the constant; Simon was a new element in her world, one she wasn’t sure how to integrate yet.

But you couldn’t help but wonder: Did she need just a little nudge? A chance to have a moment with him—just the two of them—without you hovering nearby to catch her if she fell?

That opportunity came one morning when the daycare announced they would be closing down the toddler classrooms for renovations. Since Adira’s classroom was off-limits, she couldn’t come with you, leaving a gap in her schedule for at least a day or two. It was the perfect chance for Simon to step in and watch her alone, just the two of them.

That morning, Simon arrived as usual, but the atmosphere was different. You were already dressed for work, and Adira sat on the couch, her little frame wrapped in her favorite onesie—a fuzzy lavender number with tiny clouds on the sleeves. Her attention was fixed on the cartoon playing on the screen, her pillow hugged tightly to her chest.

You had considered this moment for a while, weighing the risks and the benefits. You knew how much it would mean to Simon if Adira let him in just a little bit more. But it was still a leap. You couldn’t help but feel the protective instinct rising in you, a sharp edge of caution in your chest. If anything went wrong, if Adira seemed uncomfortable or the situation felt off, you’d be home in a heartbeat. It was your job to protect her, to put her needs above all else—even Simon’s. As much as he was trying, as much as he cared, she was still your child, and her safety and happiness mattered most.

Simon raised an eyebrow as he noticed your state of dress and Adira’s lounging figure. “So, it’s just me and her today?”

You nodded, grabbing your keys. “her classroom is closed for renovations. Figured this would be a good chance for you two to spend some time together.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead Simon seemed to take everything in stride, breathing in deeply, knowing his moment was now.

You couldn’t help but study him for a moment longer, as if reading him for any sign that he was second-guessing himself. But then he smiled at you, it was genuine—reassuring. You had to trust him. You had to let him try.

Walking over to Adira, you knelt beside her, smoothing her hair as you spoke. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna hang out with Simon today, okay? I’ll be back soon.” 

Adira’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a tiny pout. “You go?”

“Just for a little while,” you reassured her. “Simon’s going to stay with you, and you’ll have lots of fun. Won’t you?”

Adira looked up at you with those wide, dark eyes, not fully understanding the implications, but offering you a small, shy nod. She then returned her attention to the TV, her little fingers absentmindedly squeezing the fabric of her pillow.

“She’s had her bath, so no worries there,” you swiftly explained, slipping into your role as her mother. “She’s in her onesie because it’s raining today, and for some reason, she loves wearing it on rainy days—I don't understand it but as long as she's happy. There’s food in the fridge, but after a couple of hours, I’d suggest cutting the TV off. Let her color, read, or maybe play with her trains. It gives her eyes a break from the screen. Oh, and rainy days mean pizza. Her favorite place is ‘Mario’s,’ and the number’s on the fridge. She’ll ask for the stuffed crust and extra cheese, light on the sauce.”

Simon absorbed the instructions like a soldier receiving a mission briefing, nodding along as you spoke. His eyes flicked to Adira, who was now idly kicking her feet as she watched the TV, and then back to you. “Got it. Anything else?”

You hesitated for a moment, then let it subside. “Just… be patient with her. She’s still figuring this out. You’re doing great, Simon.”

His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last glance, scanning for any signs of hesitation or doubt, but his steady demeanor gave you confidence. With a final goodbye to Adira, who waved absently, you headed for the door. With that, you left, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest felt tight, your every nerve on edge as you walked to work. This was Simon’s test, sure, but it was yours too—trusting someone else with the most precious thing in your life. Only time would tell how it would go.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Simon standing awkwardly in the quiet apartment. Adira stayed exactly where she was, her little form cocooned on the couch, eyes glued to the animated animals bouncing across the TV screen. Simon exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he took in the moment. This was it. His chance.

He crossed the room and sat down next to her, careful not to invade her space. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick and uncertain. Adira didn’t so much as glance his way, her focus unwavering as the characters on the screen launched into a cheerful song.

Simon cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the air like an awkward ripple. "So, uh," he started, his voice low and unsure, "you like it when it rains?"

Adira finally looked up at him, her big, curious eyes meeting his. She blinked a couple of times, processing his question, before giving a small, shy nod.

"Yeah?" he pressed, a soft smile creeping onto his face. "What’s your favorite thing about it? The sound? Jumping in puddles?"

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she shifted on the couch, pulling her pillow closer as if using it as a shield. Simon waited, giving her time, not wanting to push. Then, as if finding the courage, she mumbled, “The sound.”

“The sound, huh? Me too,” he said, leaning back a bit to ease the tension. “Kinda peaceful, isn’t it? Makes everything... quiet.”

Adira nodded again, this time a little more confidently. Her tiny fingers started to drum on the pillow in her lap, the rhythm mimicking the pitter-patter of raindrops. Simon caught it and grinned.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I used to watch the rain all the time when I was little. Sometimes I’d sit by the window for hours, just listening. My mum always said I’d get stuck there.”

Adira tilted her head at him, her curiosity evident now. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft and a little unsure, as though she wasn’t entirely ready to start talking freely.

Simon chuckled, scratching his chin. “Dunno. Maybe I thought if I stayed there long enough, I’d see something special, like... I dunno, maybe the rain would make magic happen.”

Her eyes widened slightly at the word magic, and Simon felt a small victory bloom in his chest.

“Magic?” she echoed, her tone a mix of skepticism and interest.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, leaning in just a little, like he was about to share a secret. “The kind that only shows up when you’re really, really patient. You gotta look close, though.”

Adira’s gaze darted back to the TV for a moment before returning to him, her guard lowering inch by inch. She hugged her pillow tighter but didn’t turn away.

“Maybe,” she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear, “maybe I’ll see magic too.”

Simon’s chest tightened, a warmth spreading there that he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, he wasn’t just a stranger in her world; he was someone she was starting to let in.

“Maybe you will,” he said softly, leaning back into the couch. He let the quiet fill the space again, content to sit beside her, waiting for the rain—or the magic—to come.

After a few minutes, Adira reached over to the side table where her sippy cup rested. She grabbed it, then paused, her hand hovering. Slowly, she stretched it out toward him. “Drink?” she offered, her voice small but steady.

Simon blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. It wasn’t much—just a sippy cup of watered-down juice—but it felt monumental. “Thanks, but that’s yours,” he said gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She pulled it back and took a sip herself, nodding like she’d made a grand decision.

Simon chuckled softly. “Fair enough.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small step, a tiny opening, and Simon took it as the win it was.

The hours slipped by quietly, the sound of the TV buzzing in the background, and before Simon knew it, the three-hour mark had passed. He glanced at the clock, then at the screen, and with a deep breath, he reached over and clicked the power button.

Adira's eyes widened in shock, her little fingers frozen mid-air as she pointed at the now-black screen. "Why?" she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and mild frustration. "I wanna watch..." Her words trailed off, her pout deepening as she looked back at him, like she couldn’t quite understand why he’d taken it away.

Simon bit his lip, fighting a chuckle. "You’ve been watchin' for a while now, kiddo," he said, trying to sound casual, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. "Time to do somethin’ else, yeah?"

Adira stared at him for a long moment, her little brow furrowed as she processed what he’d said. She didn’t seem convinced at first, her gaze darting back to the black screen as if willing it to come back to life. When it didn’t, she crossed her arms over her chest, her lower lip poking out in a full pout.

“I don’t wanna,” she muttered, voice small but firm. It was clear she wasn’t happy with the decision, but Simon had a feeling it was more about the principle of the matter than the TV itself.

“C’mon now,” Simon said softly, trying to soften the blow. “We can do somethin’ fun. How ‘bout we build somethin' together? Or read a book?”

Her little frown deepened, and Simon almost felt bad for turning the TV off. But this was the first time he’d gotten a moment alone with her, and he knew it was important to break the habit, to show her there were other things to do in the world besides the screen.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and the quiet living room. Then, with a small sigh, she uncrossed her arms and stood up, shuffling toward the toy box with little steps, only to find nothing that interested her.

"Books?" she asked, her voice still laced with uncertainty but tinged with the smallest bit of curiosity.

Simon smiled, feeling a wave of relief. “Books it is,” he said, standing up to join her. “I bet we can find somethin’ that’ll be just as fun as that TV show.”

Adira didn’t answer, but the way she grabbed a book off the shelf made Simon’s heart flutter with a tiny spark of victory. 

Adira returned to Simon’s side, holding a colorful book with a soft, focused expression on her face. The cover was bright, featuring two foxes—one with a bushy tail and the other a smaller, more timid-looking one. The title, No Matter What, was written in bold letters above them. She climbed up beside him and, without a word, placed the book in his lap, her small hands brushing gently against it as if offering him a treasure.

Simon looked down at the book, caught off guard by her quiet gesture. He glanced at her for a moment, meeting her eyes. She looked at him with a silent kind of expectation, waiting.

Slowly, he picked up the book, holding it carefully as if it were something precious. “What’s this?” he asked softly, though it was clear he already had an inkling.

“Foxes,” Adira replied simply, her voice soft but firm. “Mama read it. It’s ‘bout love.”

Simon’s heart tugged at the mention of you. He could imagine the way you’d read to her, the soothing cadence of your voice, the way Adira had probably snuggled up beside you during the bedtime ritual. But there was something in Adira’s face now, something that felt like an invitation—a little piece of trust she was offering him, too.

“Well, alright then,” Simon said, his voice soft as he began to flip open the book. Adira sat close beside him, her tiny hands still on the cover, watching his every move with an intense focus. She didn’t rush him. The silence between them felt comforting.

He began to read aloud, slowly at first, as if still gauging her reaction. “No matter what, the foxes knew that they would always be together, through the rain or the snow, through the darkest nights and the brightest days.”

Adira shifted beside him, her little legs crossing as she settled into his side. Her small hand reached for the page as he turned it, her fingers brushing over the illustrations. She didn’t interrupt, just quietly absorbed the words.

As Simon read on, his voice grew more confident, and the warmth of the moment started to settle between them. For a fleeting moment, it felt like they had bridged a gap, one word at a time, one page at a time. It wasn’t much, but it was something—something to build on.

Adira’s gaze remained fixed on the book, but her body had relaxed against Simon’s, the way a child does when they feel safe. As the last pages of the book came into view, she snuggled closer, her head resting against his shoulder.

When Simon finished reading, he let the book fall softly onto his lap. He looked down at her, her eyes half-closed, but still aware and trusting. She looked up at him again, her tiny voice soft as she spoke. “Foxes love each other... no matter what.”

Simon’s heart thudded in his chest, the simplicity of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what it all meant yet, but in that moment, it was enough to see her so close, so willing to share something so personal. A bond had begun to form—fragile, yes, but it was there.

“Yeah,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper, “no matter what.”

With the last of the kids sent off and the staff beginning to clean up, you closed up shop, ready to call it a day. But just as you were locking up, a loud clap of thunder rattled the building, causing you to jump in shock. Your heart raced for a moment, the suddenness of it making you freeze in place.

“Jesus, if Adira was here, she’d lose it,” you muttered to yourself, trying to laugh off the shock. But then, your words hit you like a ton of bricks.

If Adira was here.

A chill ran through you as it dawned on you just how careless you’d been. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had completely forgotten to tell Simon about her fear of thunderstorms. She hated them. Hated the loud crashes of thunder, the flashes of lightning. You’d seen her curl up in a ball, her hands over her ears, eyes wide with terror when the storms hit.

The sound of the storm outside was only getting louder, the thunder now booming and crackling as it came closer. You could imagine Adira, sitting there with Simon, eyes wide and full of fear, clutching whatever comfort she could find, and Simon… God, Simon probably didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t have any idea how to handle it.

Without thinking twice, you dropped everything—your bag, your jacket, anything that wasn’t crucial to getting home. You shot a quick look toward the staff, offering a hasty explanation and apology. Then, without another word, you bolted through the doors, past the remaining parents who were still talking in the lobby, and into the rain.

The rain beat down on you as you sprinted through the streets, the cold droplets stinging your skin as the thunder rumbled overhead. You couldn’t focus on anything but getting home. Adira needs me. Adira needs me.The mantra repeated in your head with each pounding step. Your feet splashed through puddles, the air heavy with the scent of wet pavement and the growing tension in your chest.

It felt like forever as you raced through the downpour, but at last, you reached the building, heart hammering in your chest. You fumbled with your keys, every second feeling like an eternity as the thunder rumbled louder, closer. Hurry, you told yourself, voice shaky as you turned the key and shoved the door open.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

The air felt thick, and as you stepped inside, your eyes instantly darted to the living room.  

On the couch, Simon was sitting with Adira curled up in his side, wrapped tightly in her favorite blanket. Her little body was nestled against his, her small form practically hidden in the folds of the soft fabric. On the coffee table in front of them were the remnants of their quiet afternoon—plastic plates with pizza stains, her sippy cup placed haphazardly next to the mess. Around them, the stack of books you always read to her was scattered across the table: I Love You to the Moon and Back, The Koala Who Could, What Color is a Kiss?—books that had been a staple in your bedtime routine for as long as you could remember.

The sight of them—Adira calm, safe, resting against Simon—caught you off guard. You’d expected panic, chaos, something more… uncertain. But instead, the two of them looked peaceful. Simon’s hand was gently resting on her back, his other arm loosely around her as she drifted in and out of sleep, her head nestled against his chest. She was calm. And that... that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected.

You hadn’t expected Simon to be so… natural with her. He’d stepped up in a way you didn’t think was possible, at least not this soon. Maybe you had underestimated him. Maybe—no, you knew—you had underestimated this. 

Simon, with Adira, was something real.

Hi so, this took a while, wanted to make this really long for yall. For me as im writing this, it's 5 AM! I've been working on this since 1 PM yesterday. Long Fics are not my strongpoint, I had so much trouble with this because I'm a perfectionist and my tiny brain often repeats words ALOT. I'm working on it and the best way to improve is to keep writing.

As things currently go, I may write shorter things for this family, I want to develop Adira and Simon's relationship more just not with super long stuff like this. I'd also would love to answer any questions or talk about headcanons anyone has about them. Feel free to send asks!

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and by the time this goes up I'm sure I'll still be asleep!

P.S can someone tell me if I do tags wrong, like ive noticed sometimes when I tag it doesn't have the little underline so I keep thinking it doesn't go through </3

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[hoshifighting]

Nerd!Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After finding Nerdy!Seungcheol crying in the corner of the locker room because his girlfriend broke up with him to be with a jock after joining in the cheerleading team, you decide to help him and do everything he wished his ex-girlfriend had done. — WC: 6.6k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crack, some bickering—slight enemies2lovers plot, he cries, seungcheol is not a virgin (but his ex never gave him blowjob), mentions of alcohol (beer), mentions of glow-up, reader uses short dress and mentions short skirt, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, cock riding, answering phone in the middle of the sex—voyeur?, hickeys, body fluids (cum) and cringey mentions of hands mimics (fingering/blowjob).

As you head to the dressing room to grab your things after your Friday lonely practice, the usual silence from the night is broken by a faint, muffled sound. You pause, listening intently. It’s a sniffling noise, followed by broken pants. Curiosity piqued, you follow the sound deeper into the lockers, your footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

Turning the corner, you find Seungcheol, huddled in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest. 

“Seungcheol? What are you doing here?” you ask, a smirk tugging at your lips. Teasing him is practically second nature to you.

His head snaps up, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “What do you want?” he snaps back, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You place a hand on your waist, raising an eyebrow. “I think the better question is, why are you in the women’s locker room?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Seriously?” he mutters, scrambling to his feet, the embarrassment clear on his tear-streaked face.

You roll your eyes and turn to leave. 

You wait just outside, leaning against the wall with your phone, scrolling through messages, pretending not to notice the state he’s in.

A few moments later, Seungcheol emerges, his face still blotchy from crying but now trying to pull himself together. He dries his tears on his sweatshirt, still hiccuping softly.

“Spill it,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “What happened?”

He hesitates, but he knows that on Monday, everyone will know about it. “Minji broke up with me,” he admits, his voice cracking. “She’s dating Jaehyun from the basketball team now.”

It’s a stereotype for a reason. “And you didn’t see that coming?”

Seungcheol’s face crumples again, and you immediately regret your harsh words.

But you can't help it! Jaehyun is the quintessential jock, the kind of guy who always ends up dating cheerleaders. It’s almost cliché.

Seungcheol nods continuing, looking down at his feet. “I knew she wanted more popularity, but I didn’t think she’d...”

“Look, Seungcheol, she’s not worth it if she’s willing to dump you for some jock just to boost her social status.” You shrug as you walk toward the hallway exit.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

You shrug, slipping your phone into your bag. “I can’t let you mope around like this. It’s pathetic.”

He manages a weak smile at that. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” you say, starting to walk again.

You leave Seungcheol at his dorm, giving him a final glance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to toughen up.” 

The weekend passes in a blur of volleyball practice and social events. You don’t see Seungcheol at all, not even a glimpse. Sunday night, you find yourself at a party, scanning the crowded room. There she is—Minji, with Jaehyun, surrounded by people. They look like the picture-perfect couple, a stark contrast to the image of Seungcheol crying in the women’s locker room just two nights ago.

After the party, you head to the convenience store near the university dorms to grab a late-night snack before heading to bed. As you wander down the ramen aisle, you almost bump into someone. You look up and see Seungcheol, his face so fucking swollen and hidden under a hood.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” you whisper, startled, clutching your snacks.

He scoffs, “What do you think? Been crying all weekend.”

You furrow your brows. “Seriously? You’ve been crying the whole time?”

“What do you think?” he repeats, more bitterly this time, grabbing a pack of ramen.

You both head to the cashier, the cashier glancing curiously at Seungcheol's disheveled appearance. As you walk towards the dorm buildings, it strikes you how funny you must look together—your party dress barely covering your ass, and his baggy 'I'm not going to see anyone I know' clothes.

“Man, if you’re going to show up looking like this tomorrow, you might as well ask to leave college for real,” you say, shaking your head.

He sighs, his voice weary. “I’m not going to drop out because of her.”

“Then stop crying,” you reply, exasperated.

He snaps at you, “What do you even know about it?”

You pause in your tracks and give him a hard stare. “While you were crying your eyes out all weekend, she was giving Jaehyun head in his car, like, minutes ago,” you say, your face contorting with disgust at the memory.

His eyes open wide. “She gave him head?! What a whore. She never even gave me a blowjob.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You raise an eyebrow, munching on your snack. “She never did? Seriously?”

He looks even more pissed, fists clenching at his sides. “I swear! And I always—never mind…” 

“Dude, you were crying over someone who’s not even worth it,” you say, shaking your head. “She’s obviously just using Jaehyun for popularity. She’s not worth your tears.”

He kicks a pebble on the sidewalk, the anger beaming off him. “I thought she loved me.” 

“Pfft! Clearly, she didn't,” you reply, shrugging. “She’s a social climber. She’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top.”

He looks at you, grabbing a handful of your snacks “You’re right. I’m done with her.” he mutters, chewing monstrously. Seungcheol frowns, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you even know about that?”

“I was at the party,” you admit with a shrug.

He glances at you, taking in your outfit and the faint smell of feminine perfume mixed with alcohol. “Now it makes sense why you smell like that and why you’re dressed like this at 11 p.m. on a Sunday,” He glances down, taking in your party dress that’s riding high.

He recalls the moment in the convenience store when you bent down to grab some Takis from the bottom shelf, your ass almost completely exposed. He had glanced, unfortunately and quickly moved to stand behind you, rolling his eyes, blocking the cashier's view, who was wide-eyed and staring. 

“Man, I gotta tell you about all the crap I had to put up with.” he begins.

You listen attentively, craving some juicy gossip to cap off your weekend. He needed to vent, and you were going to end the day with some top-tier gossip. A win-win situation.

At his dorm, Seungcheol sits on his bed, and you are plopping down on the chair, eager to hear the tea.

“Can you believe she made me cancel our anniversary dinner because she wanted to go to some stupid party instead?” he says, shaking his head.

“No way!” you exclaim, licking Takis powder off your fingers, your eyes wide with interest.

He nods, exasperated. “Yeah, and she didn’t even tell me until the last minute. I had this whole thing planned, and she just ditched me.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, munching on another Takis. 

“And she always made me do her assignments. I spent countless nights writing essays for her while she was out partying.” 

“She did that?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yep,” he sighs, moving restlessly on his bed. “And get this—she once made me wait for three hours outside her dorm because she was ‘getting ready.’ When she finally came out, she said she didn’t feel like going out anymore.”

“That’s insane!” you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief. “She’s the worst.”

“She really is,” he agrees. “And she never wanted to do anything I liked. It was always about her and what she wanted.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re too nice, Seungcheol. If it were me, I’d have shown up the next day in a mini skirt like this—” You make a gesture with your fingers, indicating something tiny, “—just to rub it in her face.”

He snorts, amused by the thought. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s different for a guy.”

“Maybe,” you reply, pausing as an idea strikes you. “Wait, do you have contact lenses? Or maybe a clipper?”

He looks confused. “What? Why?”

You step closer, gently moving his hair out of his forehead. “Because if you’re going to move on, you need a new look. Let’s start with this mess of hair.” 

He looks at you, confused. “You really think that’ll help?”

“Bro, trust me,” you say, determined. 

You walk around his room, rummaging through his things, looking for the clipper. Seungcheol sits on his bed, looking at you… Nervously. 

As you plug in the clipper, the buzzing sound fills the room. Seungcheol’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re not going to make me bald, are you?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember who did the girls’ undercuts below their ponytails for last semester's game?”

His eyes light up in recognition. “That was you?”

You walk back smugly, opening your arms. “Yep, that was all me.”

As you begin cutting his hair, he starts talking again. “You know, she once told me that my glasses made me look like a nerd, and she hated it when I wore them in public.”

You roll your eyes. “Ya! That’s ridiculous. Your glasses suit you. But we can always get you contacts if you want a change.”

You skillfully give him an undercut, trimming his hair and revealing a fresh look. He looks at himself in the mirror, his forehead and thick eyebrows finally getting the attention they deserve. You help him with the contacts, and before you leave his dorm, you give him a final piece of advice.

“No sweaters,” you say firmly.

The next day, as you finish getting ready in your dorm, you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you find Seungcheol standing there, looking surprisingly handsome in his new look.

“Look at you!” you exclaim, giving him a knowing smile and nodding for him to enter. As you finish getting ready, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He shuffles his feet, looking a bit shy. “I don’t know, just felt weird going alone.” “You look healthy,” he says, his eyes taking in your appearance.

“Yeah, I took a bath,” you reply, deadpan. “You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, the nervousness fading a bit. 

Together, you head towards the university building. As you walk beside him, you notice people glancing at him, some even doing double-takes. You stand proudly, shoulders squared, almost waving like a beauty queen.

As you and Seungcheol make your way down the hallway, you spot Minji in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a group of people. Your eyes dart between her, Seungcheol, and Jaehyun, and you think to yourself that this moment is straight out of a movie. You almost wish you had popcorn to complete the scene.

You and Seungcheol walk closer, and you can see Minji's eyes light up as she spots him. She opens her mouth, probably ready to deliver some dramatic line or apology. 

But Seungcheol, simply ignores her and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a glance. His chest puffed out slightly.

You take a fine distance from them, your jaw practically dropping in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did that, did you really just ignore her?” you ask, laughing.

Despite his impressive new look, Seungcheol didn’t end up mingling with the jock crowd as you might have expected. 

Instead, during recess, you spotted him from afar, sitting with his book club friends. The contrast was cute—here he was, looking like he could easily fit in with the jocks, but he chose to hang out with his old crew, surrounded by books and enthusiastic chat. He stayed true to his roots, hanging out with the people who truly mattered to him

He had the whole package—stylish haircut, fresh look, and yet, he was still the same Seungcheol. Still maintaining his original traits and habits.

The bell rings, signaling the end of classes, and you head towards the dorms, looking forward to a bit of downtime. Suddenly, you hear someone calling after you.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn to see Seungcheol jogging towards you, his new look making him stand out even more than before. He’s out of breath but manages a grin. “How can I show my appreciation for what you did?”

You wave him off with a smile. “You don’t need to do anything.”

He pouts, looking genuinely disappointed. “Come on, please!”

You roll your eyes, teasingly. “Calm down, nerd! Hmm, maybe just a beer or something?”

His face brightens at the suggestion. “Beer? That sounds perfect!”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you both start walking together.

As you and Seungcheol sit at a small corner table in the campus bar, nursing your beers, he takes a swig and shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m drinking on a Monday,” he says, looking at his beer as if it might somehow magically make the week less mundane.

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes it feels like drinking just becomes a part of the routine. It’s like college fucks you up so much that you need these little escapes to keep your sanity.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s kind of messed up how we end up just normalizing this stuff.”

You both sip in comfortable silence for a moment before he glances at his phone, scrolling through a chat. “Oh, hey, look at this,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

He shows you a photo on his phone. It’s from the party you were at on Sunday—Minji inside Jaehyun’s car, Minji’s head is down, clearly giving him a blowjob, and Jaehyun’s face is smug. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you look at it.

“Ugh, yeah, that’s what I saw,” you say, cringing. “I didn’t want to think about it again.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “It’s just... seeing that, after everything that happened, it’s like she’s moved on and I’m left here...”

You take a deep breath, considering his frustration. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a shitty situation.”

He looks at you. “You know, I never really got why she never... I mean, she never did that for me. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

You blink, taken aback by his confession. “She has never given you a blowjob? You were serious then?”

Seungcheol nods, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, and now seeing her do it for Jaehyun... it just feels like a slap in the face.”

You sip your beer, thinking it over. The whole situation has him worked up, and you can’t help but feel a bit sympathetic. 

“Damn, that’s rough. I can see why you’d be so pissed.”

“it’s like, she was so willing to do it with Jaehyun, but never with me,” he says, clearly frustrated.

“Well, now you know,” you say, a bit smugly. “She was obviously saving that for Jaehyun.”

He looks down at his beer, indeed annoyed. “Yeah, she was a piece of work. I guess I should have seen it coming.”

“Well, we could always find a way to have some fun and blow off steam. I’m sure there’s a way to make you forget about Minji’s bullshit.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Like what?”

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Maybe even something you’ve been wanting for a while.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

You lean in even closer, your voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just say, I know a thing or two about making someone forget their ex and feel a lot better. Are you interested?”

You smirk, is he acting, or he's that bad at catching hints?

He looks at you, catching the hint. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grin, leaning in a bit closer. “Depends on what you think I’m saying.”

He blushes slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Careful, Y/N. You’re making it sound like you’re fishing for something specific.”

“Maybe I am. Just putting it out there.” you shrug.

“Are you serious? Stop playin' with me.”

“I'm dead serious.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

You can't quite pinpoint if it's the alcohol working its magic, loosening up inhibitions, or if it’s just the chemistry between you and Seungcheol, but his attempts at flirting are hitting all the right notes. There’s a certain charm to the way he’s leaning closer, trying to gauge your reactions with every word he says.

He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You know,” he starts, his voice a bit slurred, “I’ve always admired how you can just say whatever you want.”

You laugh softly, leaning in to match his tone. “Oh really? And what else do you admire?”

He smiles, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, for starters, your confidence. And the way you’re not afraid to call me out. It’s actually pretty sexy.”

The alcohol seems to be giving him a boldness you’ve never seen before. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face a bit clumsy.

“You’re drunk,” you tease, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement his touch brings.

“Maybe,” he admits, his gaze lingering on your lips. “But I’m not too drunk to know when something feels right.”

“Seungcheol,” you say softly, trying to keep things light but feeling a pull towards him, “are you sure you want to go down this road?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

[...]

The scent of your dorm—so unmistakably you—fills Seungcheol's senses, making him harder than ever. As he stands before you, your naked form on your knees, your hand between your legs touching your throbbing clit, and the sight of you looking up at him with hunger in your eyes, it’s enough to make his head spin.

You stroke his cock with one hand, licking your lips like you’re about to devour him. 

His cheeks are flushed, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the very embarrassment of the situation. He bites his bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation, his cock starting to ache with need. The handjob you’re giving him is good, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” you murmur, your voice dripping with lust. You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, the head sticky with precum.

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the sight of your hand moving up and down his shaft. 

You lean in, your tongue flicking out to taste the precum at the tip of his cock. The salty, slightly bitter taste coats your tongue, and you hum appreciatively, savoring the flavor. Seungcheol's breath hitches, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Oh, fuck!” he groans, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You smile up at him, loving his reaction. You want this to be memorable, to engrave this moment into his mind permanently. You give the head of his cock a few teasing licks before enveloping your lips around it. 

“Holy shit, Y/N!” he groans, his voice ragged. As you slide your mouth further down, taking him deeper, his body curls inward, every muscle tensing. It’s like you’re sucking every ounce of energy from him, and he can barely stand it. Your mouth is so wet, so warm, and you look so devoted, so gorgeous.

You look up at him through your lashes, seeing the absolute ecstasy on his face. You’re dedicated, giving all of yourself to make this perfect for him. You bob your head, sucking him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. Your tongue works along his length, swirling around the tip before you take him in again.

Seungcheol’s efforts to hold back his moans crumble. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” he whimpers, his voice loaded with desperation. He grips your hair, not to control but to anchor himself, as his arms on the bed threaten to give out.

You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. You suck harder, your hand stroking the base of his shaft in beat with your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his neediness evident in every spasm and moan.

His moans become louder, more ragged, filling the room. The sound of his pleasure fuels your horniness, and you touch yourself more frantically, your fingers rubbing your clit in time with the movements of your mouth. You’re giving him everything, and you love the way he’s falling apart above you.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he chokes out whiny. “I can’t… I can’t hold it…”

You look up at him, and suck him even harder, your mouth sliding up and down his length faster. You want to push him over the edge, to give him the orgasm he so desperately needs. Your hand strokes his shaft with more speed, your mouth working tirelessly.

You can't believe that Minji never gave Seungcheol a blowjob. Just the sight of his cock is almost enough to make you cum. With your hand still slick from touching yourself, you grab the base of his shaft and take him as deep as you can, sinking him down your throat. 

You hold him there for some seconds, feeling the tears from your gag reflex forming. When you pull back, you see him nearly losing his balance.

Determined to make this unforgettable, you’re willing to suck his very soul out if it means you get to see his face as he cums and hear those incredible moans from him.

Seungcheol’s body tenses, his muscles locking up as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out.

Seungcheol’s entire body convulses, his hips jerking uncontrollably as you milk every drop from him. His eyes roll back, and he lets out a guttural moan, the sound of someone utterly lost in pleasure. You keep sucking him gently, drawing out his orgasm, until he’s left trembling and spent.

When you finally release him, Seungcheol collapses onto the bed, needing to lay down to recover. 

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling a rush of pride at the look of utter bliss on his face. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles so wide it makes your heart swell.

He sits up slightly, his hand wrapping around your throat. He grips you gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. You’re caught off guard when he leans in, not giving you just a peck, but sliding his tongue into your mouth. You thought he might find it weird after cumming in your mouth, but he does it without hesitation, moaning at the taste.

You can feel your pussy immediately dripping onto the sheets. His kiss is hungry, filled with gratitude and lingering fascination, and you kiss him back just as fervently, your hands tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull away, you both are breathing heavily.

“Damn, Y/N,” he bites his bottom lip. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Seungcheol's eyes roam over your body, and you can see the determination in his gaze. He wants to pay you back, to show you what he can do. Gently, he lifts you onto the bed, laying you down. He positions himself between your legs, his stomach pressed against the mattress. You hear him hiss slightly as his sensitive dick makes contact with the sheets, but his focus remains on you.

“I’ve been studying up on this, Y/N,” he says with a proud smile, like he’s presenting a perfect exam result. “Time to show you what I’ve learned.”

He starts by kissing your inner thighs, his lips soft and teasing against your skin. You shiver, your breath hitching in tension. When his mouth finally reaches your pussy, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue darts out, tasting you for the first time, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum.

“You taste so good,” he says, almost to himself, before diving in.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, his tongue parting your folds and flicking over your clit. You moan, your hips twitching involuntarily. Seungcheol’s hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he starts to work his tongue with more ambition.

His tongue encircles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks it into his mouth, creating a delicious pressure that makes you gasp. He alternates between sucking and licking, his mouth hot and insistent. 

You can hear the wet sounds of his mouth on you, mingling with your moans, and it’s driving you even more soaked.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, that feels so good,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. “You’re so good at this, nerd.” you smile looking at him.

He looks up at you eyes light up at the praise. “You like that?” he asks, his voice muffled against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you plead.

He continues to be concentrated on you, his eyes sharp and focused, studying every reaction. His tongue flicks over your clit, and your hips buck against his mouth. He smiles against you, clearly pleased with your response.

Seungcheol grins and shifts slightly, bringing his fingers into play. He teases your entrance with one finger before slowly pushing it inside you, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot—finding it embarrassingly fast. You shout, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, Seungcheol, just like that,” you pant, your hips grinding against his face.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you while his mouth continues its assault on your clit. The combination is mind-blowing, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. His fingers twist and curl inside you, like they're calling you, pressing against your sweet spot, and your moans become louder, more desperate.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, your thighs squeezing around his head. 

You feel a bit guilty for trapping him like this, but Seungcheol looks delighted, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he reads every reaction from your body.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a rapid, persistent move, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you, combined with the slick noises from his mouth, are almost obscene, but they only heighten your arousal.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop, Seungcheol, please.”

He doesn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working you with a preciseness that makes your head spin. You can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry out, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you.

Seungcheol keeps going, drawing out your orgasm, his fingers curling and his tongue flicking relentlessly. Your moans are loud and broken, your hips grinding against his face as you moan vulgarly, your chest rising as you soak his mouth and face. 

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing him even tighter, and you scream his name, your voice echoing in the room. He continues to lick and finger you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re left shaking and breathless.

Finally, he pulls back, his face shining with your arousal, a pleased smile on his lips. “How was that?”

Your body is still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, and all you can manage is a breathless moan, your hands smudging your face as you try to collect yourself. Seungcheol laughs softly at your reaction.

“I don’t know if I can ride you right now,” you admit, your voice shaking. “I’m still trembling.”

He smirks, a naughty glint in his eyes. “Who said anything about you riding me? I can fuck you just as good, just lay back and let me take care of you.”

The promise in his words makes you clench, and you nod, eager to feel him inside you. He positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and ready. As he lines himself up with your entrance, you can’t help but gasp at the sight of his size.

When he finally pushes inside you, the stretch is both breathless and blissful. His cock fills you completely, the sensation intensified by how wet you are. Your body welcomes him, and he slides in easily, the friction making you moan loudly.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, just like that!” you breathe out, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck as he begins to move. His kisses are surprisingly sweet for the roughness of his thrusts, and you find the contrast and incredibly hot.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moans, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more and more.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” you grit through your teeth. 

Seungcheol’s eyes blacken, and he grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. You cry out, your head falling back against the pillow, your body jiggling with each strong movement.

 “I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name,” he promises, and you know he means it.

His thrusts become relentless, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, your eyes watering. Your moans turn into cries, your mind going blank with pleasure. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you cling to him, needing him closer.

“Seungcheol, I’m gonna—”

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s phone ringing startles both of you. “Fuck... no,” he mutters, pulling out of you reluctantly. You almost swallow a sob, your orgasm fading away.

"Answer it," you tell him, your voice steady despite your frustration.

He looks at the caller ID, his face contorting in disgust. "Minji," he says, showing the screen to you. You wave your hand, signaling for him to answer. He does, putting the call on speaker. The fact that he's not hiding it, that he wants you to hear, that he doesn't have a problem with it, is unexpectedly hot.

“Seungcheol?” You roll your eyes at her voice.

“Yeah?” he replies, his tone short and uninterested.

“I... I wanted to talk. Can we meet up?” she asks, her voice faltering.

You sit up silently, your mind racing. Seungcheol answers her shortly, clearly wanting to hang up. As he talks, you get an idea. You crawl over to him, your eyes locked on his as you straddle his lap, your breasts pressing against his face. 

He looks up at you, confused.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, his breath hitching.

“Seungcheol, are you listening to me?” Minji’s voice is impatient, and he can't answer.

You just smile, grabbing his cock and sliding it back inside you as his face contorts in silence, jaw slack as he looks inside your eyes. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as you begin to move, slowly at first, then faster, circling your hips around him.

“Seungcheol? Are you there?” She asks, sounding more desperate now.

He tries to answer, but you start moving, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replies, his voice strained. He places a hand on your hip, trying to steady you as you ride him.

“What are you doing?” her voice cuts through the tension, suspicion clear.

You moan slyly, loudly, not even needing to force it. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you purr, the sound sending a cold lick down his spine. He can't help but moan too, his resolve breaking.

Minji’s voice rises in panic. “Seungcheol, what’s going on? Who’s there with you?”

He can’t help but moan too, gripping your hips tighter. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Minji,” he says, his voice strained with pleasure.

“What the hell is happening? Who is that?!” She's furious.

Seungcheol’s hands grip your hips, his body shuddering with each thrust. “Y/N... I can’t...”

“Just a little more,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “Let her hear how good I make you feel.”

He groans, unable to hold back any longer. “Minji, I’m fucking done with you,” he says, his voice shaking. “Don’t call me again!”

You moan again, louder this time, and Seungcheol echoes your sound, his head falling back. 

The call disconnects abruptly, but you don’t stop. 

You ride him harder, feeling him throb inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his peak.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his moans as he comes, his release sending you over the edge as well.

Seungcheol throws the phone aside with a decisive flick of his wrist, his focus entirely on you now—not that he stopped, his mind was imploring for you every second. 

He grips your hips firmly, handling you on his lap with a possessive, almost primal passion, like you’re a fucking doll. The strength of his arms moving you on his lap, makes you gasp, and you abruptly pull away from the kiss, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to suppress your scream.

It doesn’t work. 

The sound that escapes you is raw and unfiltered—a high-pitched scream that echoes off the walls of the dorm room. You’re cumming all over his cock, your cum spilling over onto his balls and pelvis, the wetness spreading in a deliciously messy explosion.

Seungcheol’s grip tightens, his breathing ragged as he feels the lock of your orgasm. He’s fighting his own demons to keep his eyes open, the pleasure so harsh that it’s almost too much to endure. His eyes are locked on yours, and you see the struggle written all over his face.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his voice wasted with overstimulation. His moves become more desperate, desperate to feel every inch of you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably, every muscle tensed as you fight to keep your eyes open, to stay grounded in the moment. You feel the room spinning, the pleasure so intense that it’s almost blinding. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you struggle to stay upright.

You collapse against Seungcheol. He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a protective, almost desperate grip. Despite his own wavering strength, his desire to hold and shield you is real, overshadowing any fatigue he might be feeling.

With the last of your strength, you gently pull his cock out of you, your movements sluggish. You remain close, still wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and softness of his body against yours. The sensation of his cock slipping free leaves a trail of dampness between you, your orgasms dripping onto his pelvis and the sheets beneath you.

Seungcheol shudders as he feels the wetness spreading across his skin. The soaked feeling on his pelvis, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, makes him groan softly. His hands are still firmly clasped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we just did that while Minji was on the phone.”

You chuckle softly, your exhaustion making your laugh feel weak but genuine. 

Seungcheol lets out a rueful laugh. “I was trying so hard to keep it together while she was talking, and here you are, riding me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “So, what did she hear exactly? Did she get the full experience or just a taste?”

Seungcheol grins, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, she heard more than a taste. I was trying to get her off the line quickly, but with you going at it like that, I think she caught on pretty fast. She definitely knew something was up.”

“And now she’s probably going to think you’re a total jerk for just hanging up on her like that.”

“To be honest, I was so caught up in how good you were making me feel that I couldn’t even process what she was saying. All I could think about was you.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of frantic activity and poorly disguised attempts to cover up the previous night's larks. As you glance in the mirror, you notice the indicative signs of sex: red, blossoming hickeys on your neck that stubbornly refuse to be concealed. You grab your concealer and try your best to dab and blend, but the more you work, the more obvious it seems.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is in an equally frantic state. He’s darting around his dorm room, desperately scrubbing away any remaining proof of the night before. He’s juggling a toothbrush in his mouth while trying to hide the hickeys with his hoodie. He eventually settles on a high-collared shirt that looks formal and slightly out of place for a morning class, but it gets the job done.

You rush out of your dorm, barely managing to grab your things before heading to your first class. The entire way there, you catch glimpses of yourself in shop windows and mirrors, each time cringing at how you might still look too happy, too satisfied.

Seungcheol is nearly out of breath by the time he arrives at the hallways, his face flushed—not entirely from exertion, you suspect.

“Did you manage to get rid of all the hickeys?” Seungcheol whispers walking on your side suddenly, as he tries to adjust his collar without drawing too much attention.

“Not even close,” you reply with a wry smile. “I’m basically wearing a turtleneck now, but it’s not foolproof.”

He laughs, a bit too loudly given the circumstances. “Well, at least we look like we’re going somewhere fancy. If anyone asks, just say it’s a new fashion statement.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s going to work. I’m just hoping people don’t look too closely.”

As you both ascend the stairs to your respective classes, the early morning hustle is almost forgotten when Seungcheol suddenly grabs your wrist, his eyes darting around to ensure no one is watching. 

The empty stairwell is the perfect backdrop for his next move.

Before you can react, Seungcheol leans in and steals a quick, tender peck from your lips. The unexpected kiss surprises you, and a smile instantly lights up your face. You respond with another, slightly longer kiss.

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a playful glint in your eye. “So, what about tonight?” you ask slyly.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

You make a theatrical gesture with your hand, tracing a path up and down to your cheek, poking your cheek with your tongue, mimicking the motion of sucking him off. Your naughty movement is clear and provocative.  

Seungcheol's face flushes instantly, his eyes widening as he processes your meaning.

He bites his lip, his eyes locking onto yours with a glint of playful defiance. With a teasing smirk, he lifts his middle fingers, licking them exaggeratedly before curling them inward, making the motion unmistakably obscene.

“Something like this?” he asks, his voice sultry, his eyes never leaving yours. “Think you can handle it tonight?”

You can't help but be taken aback by Seungcheol's bold gesture, your jaw falling slack in surprise. 

“Meet me at the storage room,” you murmur, urgent. “You’re going to finger me there.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “The storage room?” he repeats, his voice a quiet, thrilled whisper, his breath catching slightly.

He thinks then gives you a quick, eager nod, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Sure thing,” he continues. “Can’t wait.”

A birthday one-shot to my cutie pie hahaha 29 years old—I'm crying n'shit. 😭🥺❤️

[luveline]

hotch sister idea-- convincing hotch to take you out to dinner with the whole team because you "want to properly meet his friends" (i'm a sucker for team dynamics) but then being shy and cute with spencer the entire time to the point that hotch notices and gets a tad protective...but ends with spencer getting her number or something

thank you for requesting 💌 —you attend a party with your older brother in a not so secret plight to see Dr. Reid. You fawn, Spencer flusters, and Hotch drinks a tad more than usual. fem, 2.3k

cw for mentions of past child abuse

The car is quiet besides the tread of the tires on asphalt. You click and unclick the clasp of your shoulder bag, checking for your purse, getting worried your purse isn’t in there, and checking again.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, you can ask me.”

You move your gaze to your brother. His quietness can make you nervous, a reflection of your father but with none of the cruelty. “I don’t want you to get mad at me if it’s stupid.”

“Well, I won’t. I promise.”

You know he won’t, but sometimes the fear remains. Even when you’re far from being a kid. “Do you remember when I got suspended for, um, disrespectful behaviour? My senior year?”

Aaron turns the wheel with care. “I do.”

“And we went for ice cream.”

“Yeah, honey, I remember.”

That’s the point you’re trying to make, maybe. That tenderness sewn into the middle of his sentence. If your dad knew you’d been suspended again he would’ve made you feel it. You remember the sinking sensation in your chest waiting for him to pick you up, having written the speech he’d give you in the car ride home in your head ten times over, the sting of his palm grazing your cheek before you’d even seen his hand. So you waited in a total violent panic, head rush, wondering if anything was worth anything, when Aaron arrived to pick you up.

How did you know? you’d asked.

I changed your emergency contact. I hope that’s okay.

“You asked me what I wanted and…”

What flavour did you want, honey? he’d asked. Honey, like he loved you, the only person in the whole world who’d bother asking. The only man who’d take you for ice cream at seventeen years old to cure a bad day.

“And you burst into tears,” Aaron says.

He’d sat down opposite you in his suit, torn from one of his trials, and you can’t remember anymore if he was an attorney or already in the FBI, but you can’t forget how he’d taken your wrists into his hands and asked you not to cry.

“When you took me home, Haley asked me if you’d upset me, and I didn’t know how to explain it so you said yes. And she shouted at you for a whole half hour.”

“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asks.

Maybe because college is over and you’re forced to move on. Aaron asked you to try hard and you have, but now you have your degree and you don’t know what to do with it, you’ll get a job, and then what?

“I’ve been thinking about… my love life.”

“Oh. And you have to talk about this with me?” he jokes.

“I don’t have anybody else.”

He tears his gaze from the windshield. “That’s not true.”

“But…”

He turns into the parking lot outside of Dan’s Fine Wine Bar and pulls into a tight space with ease. He hesitates before he flicks off the engine, turning to you with a smile. “You’ll always have me,” he says, “and we can talk about your love life. I want to. God knows you’ve heard enough about mine this last year.” You both grimace. “But if I have to listen one more time to you talking about Spencer–”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Honey.” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door. “I’m not mad. But imagine your younger sibling comes to you one day to tell you they have feelings for your employee and try to find some sympathy for me!”

He clambers out of the car. You rush after him, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly smashing your door into the car next to you. The air outside is cold, and you didn’t bring a jacket even though Aaron told you to twice, so you can’t mention it aloud. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“You have a crush. You’re too old for it.”

“I am not.”

He gestures for you to walk in front of him as he clicks the fob for the car and the doors lock automatically. “I don’t understand what this has to do with your suspension.”

You chew on your cheek. Neon from the wine bar mottles your skin as you pass under it and through the door, air quickly turned from cold to temperate, the smell of old rain replaced by carpeting and beer. When you lift your head to his gaze, he’s still waiting for your answer. “You told me things wouldn’t be that hard forever. I was just wondering when it’s safe to say you were right.”

He grins at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to give you a rough hug. “Right now. Be happy right now, honey.”

“There they are!” Penelope calls from a table near the back. Suddenly, Aaron’s entire team of work colleagues stand up where they’ve dominated a whole row of tables and booths alike to greet you. “Oh my gosh, I missed you!”

You met Derek a long long time ago, and JJ around the same time, but everybody else is basically new. College was busy and Aaron busier —there was hardly ever time to visit, and when you did it was to see him and Haley. Meeting his friends was somehow put off.

You’ve since been introduced to Emily and Spencer, so Aaron directs you to David Rossi first. That’s the main team done quickly. But then he has to introduce you to Anderson, Sweeney, Kelly, Cory, Davidson, etc. So many agents for one man’s birthday. Anyone would think Derek Morgan was a celebrity.

“Happy birthday!” you say, when you finally get a moment to speak.

Derek reaches over the table to hug you quickly. “Thank you, gorgeous. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He pulls back, elbowing Penelope lovingly. “Aren’t we, mama?”

Penelope squeals and jumps for you. “So thrilled!”

Aaron touches your back, as if to say, I’m here, before taking a seat opposite Rossi. You hear snippets of a conversation about whiskey and when, but you’re distracted, because suddenly Penelope’s forcing you to sit down in her vacated seat, smack bang between Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.

Dr. Spencer Reid. “Hi,” you say quietly. Can’t help it. You remember how you’d reacted when you met him the week before last and wonder if it’s too late to pretend you’re cool —you’d gotten so worked up about him. He wrote a bunch of papers you had to read for your degree, some of the most sophisticated theory on elliptical math you’d ever read, and you’re supposed to act like he’s just a normal guy?

It doesn’t help that he’s model pretty. You’d never have thought of him as he is now over email, his huge brown eyes, pale skin, the flicking curl of his hair behind his ears. When he turns his head, he has indents on his nose from a pair of glasses you wish you’d seen. You clear your throat.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Spencer asks.

“I’m gonna go get a drink now,” Aaron says. “What do you want?” he asks you.

“Um, anything. I don’t really wanna drink.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says with deliberateness.

You feel heat like a rash on your neck. He’s embarrassing you doing his dad routine.

“You look pretty,” Spencer says.

You hide your hands under your thighs. “You think so?”

“You look beautiful,” Penelope says from across the table.

“Didn’t inherit that Hotchner scowl,” Derek says with a grin, “I thought it came with the name.”

“I learned how to do it the day they signed the adoption certificate,” you nudge in, “I just keep it to myself. I think Aaron has it down.”

Everybody within hearing distance laughs at you, to your relief. To your left, Spencer’s shoe hits your heel.

“So weird to hear his real name,” Emily says, tipping her drink to the side, ice and sugar on the surface. “I thought for sure you’d have to call him Hotch too.”

You look around in surprise. “He can’t be that bad. Does he really frown so much?”

You’re told vehemently that your brother is a grump, which is something you were aware of, just not experienced in. Sure, he’s had his unhappy moments, no one can smile every second of the day, but if everyone is to be believed he’s the sternest man alive. Eventually things drift into storytelling. Aaron brings you your drink with a straw and a napkin wrapped around the base, and you find yourself listening to a graphic rehash of Derek’s first case with the BAU.

Spencer’s leg is a coal at your side.

Your self preservation runs out. “You don’t drink?” you ask, nodding to his glass bottle of coke.

“I– I never did. I never had the opportunity. I’ve never even been to a party.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I didn’t go to parties either,” you say, overjoyed to find common ground so quickly.

“I mean, I was never invited, but highschool parties didn’t seem like my thing. And, you know, I was twelve.”

“You were twelve in highschool?”

He’s doing that thing you noticed the day you met, where his lips move before he’s ready to talk, his emotion clear. “You weren’t?” he asks, not quite smooth but enough to make you laugh suddenly.

“I wish! I could’ve been done with college years ago.” Your brows pinch together. “Wait, so did you go to college as a kid?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“What? No wonder you didn’t go to any parties, that must’ve been insane. When I was twelve I was still setting my Barbie’s up for dance parties. Aaron has a photo of me dressed up in mom’s old clothes.” You lean forward for a sip of your drink.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a photo of me just like that when I was twelve, too.”

You laugh so hard you almost choke.

A cup comes down hard somewhere behind your turned head.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

She wears a smirk you don’t understand, a joke you’ve missed. You peer past her to look to Aaron for advice and find him rather sullen, hand curled tightly around his drink. You try to give him a signal to ask if he’s alright, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m fine, sorry, just a joke.” You turn back to Spencer. “That’s adorable.”

You’re breathless talking to him. He must notice, but Spencer doesn’t say a word.

If someone asked you why he caught your attention, you’re not sure you know the answer. He’s pretty, undeniably, and it’s fascinating that you used his theory while you were in school, but fascination isn’t endless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. No ones ever given such a clear sense of awe; he gets stuck on you, his eyes tracing your cheek and your nose and your lips. It’s noticeable, but it isn’t unwanted. You keep coming back to his smile as he talks, the flash of his teeth.

“I honestly didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Spencer says.

“He was keeping us apart for a reason,” you say insistently, “I just don’t know what that reason is yet. He must’ve known you were the Dr. Reid I’d been reading.”

“It makes it sound like you’re reading me,” Spencer laughs. “Like, my hands.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do I want you to what?”

“To read your palm?”

“You know how?”

“No parties, remember?”

Spencer gives you his hand. He has nice hands, big but slim-fingered like a pianist’s, though if he plays isn’t something you know. You angle it flat careful, your thumbs to either side of his open palm. “What do you want to know?” you ask.

“What can you tell me?”

You hum gently. “You have your life line, your head line, your heart line– your love line.”

“What does that– that mean for me?”

You press your thumb to his mount Jupiter, a soft hill of his hand under one of his fingers where the heart line begins. “Your desire for love, and your capacity for it. See how deeply curved it is?” you ask, drawing along his heart line gently. “It means you’re warm, and loving. That you could have a great love.”

You look up, his hand held gently between yours. “But I could be really wrong. I haven’t done this in so long, I might just be making stuff up.”

You sound insecure to your own ears, cringing away from his hand, but Spencer ducks his head just a little to keep your gaze, and he smiles at you softly. “It’s okay. I like your reading, even if it’s wrong. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Aaron would buy me any book I asked for growing up, he…”

Your brother, sitting only a few seats away, can’t find it in himself to regret that particular generosity even if the sight of you holding Spencer’s hand isn’t one he wants to see. It’s odd. You’re fully grown up, and it’s not like Aaron thinks Spencer would ever hurt you purposefully, but it’s hard to see anyways. He can admit to feeling like a father watching his daughter finding a first love; he can’t keep you forever and he doesn’t want to, but it’s still hard to watch as you descend into giggles that border on dizziness.

“This is a good thing,” Rossi says. “You’ll never have to worry about her being out past curfew.”

Aaron laughs, it’s funny, and then he knocks back his drink.

[dream-with-a-fever]

ginny weasley did not

defend harry against malfoy in flourish and blots when he was picking on him (it’s the first time she ever speaks in front of him)

carry around a horcrux for the better half of a year and realise that something was wrong and try to dispose of it at age 11

get possessed, manipulated and controlled by one of the darkest wizards of all time and live to tell the tale

get forced to write her own farewell note on the wall in blood and walk to her own death

go on as normally as possible afterwards despite the trauma of her first year, because she didn’t want to be a nuisance

make harry a get well soon card after he fell off his broom because of the dementors in third year

tell harry and ron off when making fun of neville for not being able to get a yule ball date

refuse harry as a yule ball date despite having harboured a crush on him for years because she didn’t want to hurt neville

see harry was floundering after hermione & ron left him to do prefect duties and immediately take charge and invite him to come with her

defend luna against bullies, and encourage neville to believe in himself and know his self worth

decide to quit pining for harry because it was a waste of time, instead dating other boys and becoming a solid friend to him

join dumbledore’s army without a second thought, coining the name and even encouraging more ravenclaws to join

call harry out when he was in a downward spiral about being possessed, explained her own experience and remained gracious despite him forgetting her biggest trauma

fill in for harry as seeker in the quidditch team and help them win the quidditch cup that year

reassure harry that he will play quidditch again, when he was feeling low about umbridge’s life long ban

encourage harry to talk to cho if that’s what he’s upset about (putting her own complicated feelings for him aside)

get harry to admit what was actually upsetting him and helping him find a solution

immediately agree to help harry by standing guard outside umbridge’s office despite not knowing any details

call harry out whenever he was being snarky / impatient with her and not take any of his shit

disarm malfoy & the others and escape from umbridge’s office to rush to harry and hermione’s aid

refuse to stay behind at hogwarts stating that she cared for sirius too and wanted to help

go with the others to the DoM in an attempt to save sirius, risking her life and breaking her ankle in the process

refuse to tolerate her brother’s new girlfriend who was being snobbish about her family’s home and lifestyle (but then go on to love and respect her, as they mature)

get invited to join the slug club because of her skill with hexes and not nepotism (the only one who wasn’t invited for that reason)

tell off zabini for laughing at harry about what went down at the DoM

call ron the fuck out when he was borderline slut-shaming her

crash into the commentator’s podium to shut zacharias smith up from talking smack about the gryffindor team

immediately try to intervene when she thought harry was in danger of being possessed by the hbp potions book

tell off dean and seamus for laughing when harry got seriously hurt in quidditch

come to harry’s defence after he attacked malfoy (bc he had to defend himself against an unforgivable curse) and stand up to (one of her) closest friend(s) to do so

step up to play seeker in harry’s place (again) in the quidditch final and winning the cup in his absence (!!!!)

make harry feel “the happiest he had ever been��� when they finally got together

make my boy LAUGH 24/7 and bring him (and many others) so much JOY

support harry after dumbledore’s death, knowing when to give him comfort and also space

show unwavering love and loyalty to harry when he was trying to break up with her, claiming she didn’t care about the danger

also ultimately not fight his decision, understanding his need to stop voldemort once and for all, despite her being completely heartbroken

respect harry’s wishes to stay broken up, but still give him the most INSANE kiss ever as a birthday present (and something for him to fight for!!)

return to hogwarts under the rule of deatheaters, despite the target on her back as a blood traitor (also as brother of ron AND ex girlfriend of harry)

take the place of younger students and try to protect them from being tortured by the carrows

start up dumbledore’s army again with neville and rebel against the system, to reek as much havoc as possible at hogwarts

try to steal the sword of gryffindor from snape’s office because they wanted to help the cause as much as possible despite understanding why they needed it and ultimately being punished for it

refuse to stay put in the room of requirement when her family were out risking their lives during the battle and given the chance, immediately joined the fray

comfort an injured younger student at the battle, and stay strong for them, despite having just found out her brother had been killed

duel with bellatrix in the battle and almost lose her life doing it

go through so much and have her trauma be overlooked and forgotten by so many

go on to play QUIDDITCH PROFESSIONALLY in the team she DREAMED of playing for

and then going back to a career in writing (sports correspondent) despite her traumatic experience with the diary

marry the love of her life and have three beautiful children and get the happy ending that she deserves after EVERYTHING????

all for you guys to shit on her the way you do. put some goddamn RESPECT on MISS GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY’S name. she’s NOT a mary sue, she’s NOT a bully, and she’s NOT boring. she’s an ICON.

[hiraethwrote]

ARE WE JUST FRIENDS?

pairing : osamu miya x f!reader summary : late in the evening your phone calls, and a desperate atsumu begs you to come pick up his brother who is not only drunk, but in an extremely bad mood — which results in your best friend behaving uncharacteristically mean cw : best friends to lovers, timeskip, ooc osamu (not sure, i struggle writing him), angsty, hurt to comfort, profanity, intoxication, subtle pining, some miscommunication, jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 2.5k

author's note : for my beautiful ave (@hiraethwa) as a part of @lale-txt's amazing hq secret santa event. ik i've taken my sweet time, and i hope the wait was worth it. due to a lil writing slump, and in general being intimidated by writing for hq, it ended up very different from what i initially planned, but i still hope you enjoy it <3 mwah

“What are you doing here?”

You drew a sharp breath, the venom in his voice catching you off guard.

“Atsumu called me,” you sighed, wrapping your arms tighter around your body. You tried to convince yourself it was to shield yourself from the December cold, but you knew it was more in order to bring yourself a sense of comfort — Osamu’s hostile tone stung more than expected.

He scoffed instantly as his brother’s name left your lips, head turning away as you saw him aggressively roll his eyes.

“Of course he did,” he mumbled.

His complaint was loaded with unspoken feelings. All the years you had known him had thought you that much — your usual sweet and mellow best friend had a tendency to become passive aggressive whenever something really bothered him.

“Don’t be like that. Come on, get up.” Part of you wanted to retaliate with a just as snappy remark, but it would only cause you more problems in getting him to come with you, something you suspected was already laid out to be a difficult task.

When he didn’t do as you told him, you stepped closer, begrudgingly offering him your hand to help pull him to his feet. He only stared at it — an ugly glare usually reserved for his brother.

“Osamu,” you groaned in frustration, “it’s fucking freezing, won’t you please just get up!” Again he just huffed. “Stop acting like a child,” shaking your hand, hoping he would eventually accept the gesture.

Finally he turned to look at you, his eyes digging deep into you as there was a tight crease between his eyebrows — it made your stomach turn. He never looked at you like this. If you didn’t know any better, you would describe it as pure disgust, that he couldn’t imagine a worse place to be than in your presence.

It was tempting to turn on your heel and let him sulk in his lonesome, where he sat on the frosty grass outside the annual Christmas party his team put together, one he had hinted at for weeks he never even wanted to attend. But you remained persistent, mirroring his mean frown and challenging his glare.

Another scoff slipped out of him. Then he weakly swatted your hand away and got on his feet without your help. Once he stood straight, you noticed how his towering frame swayed ever so slightly from the alcohol still running through his body.

“What?” He spat, still maintaining the ugly eye contact that felt like an insult.

The kindness that usually wallowed in his eyes seemed to have gone dormant. And despite his cruel and uncharacteristic edge, you couldn’t help but to admire how pretty he was. The light snow falling slowly around you, landing in his hair before melting into little droplets of water.

Clenching your jaw, you took a deep breath through your nose to bite back whatever rested on your mind, trying to tell yourself he was only acting this way because he was drunk.

“Nothing.”

With high shoulders, both caused by the cold and the uncomfortable tension, you turned and headed over to your car and opening the passenger door to hold it open for him. But when you turned to look up, Osamu was stood in the exact same position, sporting the same grumpy expression.

Your head fell back with another loud groan. “Osamu, I’m not doing this with you tonight, just get in the car.”

“I don’t feel like going with you,” stuffing his hands in his jean pockets as his shoulders raised, trying to conceal how the cold was starting to make his body tremble.

“Too damn bad, now get in the car,” you said sternly as you contested his mean stare.

You wondered what the hell could have happened for you to earn this treatment from him. Yesterday everything seemed fine, hanging out the whole group where everything had been so pleasant — perfect even, if you dared be that honest.

The unspoken thing between you had continued to grow stronger, slowly but surely breaking out from the restraints of ‘just friends’. Your gazes lingered longer than what would be considered normal. More often than not, your arm would shyly be pressed against his the entire time you were hanging out — yesterday was no different.

And when it was time for you to take your leave, his arms had wrapped around your shoulders in a comforting hug that had resulted in your head resting on his chest. Your feelings had gotten the best of you, and you had let your eyes slowly glide shut and bask in his embrace for a moment longer than you knew you should have — then you didn’t hear anything from him until Atsumu had called and begged you to come pick him up.

“Please come and get him. He’s really drunk and should be in bed,” Atsumu’s voice was laced with concern before it twisted into irritation. “He’s also just in a fucking pissy mood.”

It hadn’t been a question whether you should do it or not — you would always be there for Osamu.

You just hadn’t expected to be met with such hostility from the person you were walking such a fine line with, especially when it came so out of the blue.

“Atsumu really wasn’t kidding when he said you were pissy,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Funny how you two keep talking about me,” he said, kicking an illusionary rock making him appear even more like a bratty child.

“Yeah, told me your own team don’t even want you at the party no more because you’re a buzzkill.”

An aggressive scoff shot past his teeth. “Some friend you are, talking crap behind my back with my own brother.”

“Sure, whatever, you can tell me how bad of a friend I am on the way home. I won’t say it again, get. In. The. Car.”

There was a betrayal on his expression, a flinch in his frown, telling you your crass tone was having a bigger impact on him than he was letting on.

Though he hesitated, his feet eventually carried him unsteadily towards you. Without sparing you a single glance, he crouched in front of you to enter the car. And just as all four of his limbs were inside the vehicle, your anger had you slam the door with a lot more power than intended before scurrying into the driver seat.

“Put your seatbelt on,” you demanded, watching as his body had let go of the shivering as the heat inside the car enveloped him — but there was no change in his mood.

The car ride back to his apartment was spent with zero words exchanged. The only thing heard was the gushing sound of the heat you were blazing throughout the car, and the low tunes of your calm music, which was actually doing wonders for you to steady your emotions a little.

You pulled into his driveway, silence swallowing the car as you shut off the engine. You turned to look at him, bracing yourself to meet a stubborn child you probably had to fight in order to get out of the car — instead, he was half asleep, eyelids heavy as sleep was looming right around the corner. A deep sigh slipped out of you at the peaceful sight of your best friend.

Slowly you reached out, placing your hand on his shoulder to carefully shake him awake, “Osamu, we’re here,” you whispered, only for all your irritation to return in an instant as he jerked out of your gentle touch, frown creasing his features again.

He responded with a low “hmpf,” before unbuckling his belt and exiting the car, yet again never having the decency to look at you.

He’s drunk, he’s drunk, he’s drunk, you tried to tell yourself in order for you to be able to treat him with some grace. Alcohol could be the devil, turning the most gentle of people into pests — as seen right before your eyes. What kind of friend would you be if you couldn’t show him some mercy by excusing one bad night.

“Careful,” you sighed, rushing over to him to firmly place your hands on each side of his waist as he was about to tip over, “I got you.”

“I don’t need you to have me,” he nearly growled as he reached in his pocket for his keys — but he never jerked out of your grip, letting your hands remain at his side as substitute.

“Here, let me,” you tried to interject when he fumbled with unlocking the door for a second longer than your patience could endure. Of course he was unable to willingly hand you the keys, but at least he didn’t put up much of a fight when you twisted it out of his long fingers.

With one hand still resting on the small of his back, you unlocked the door. With gentle pressure, you ushered him forwards, desperate to get the nuisance that was your best friend to bed.

“You can go home now,” he slurred the second he set foot inside his apartment.

“Not leaving just yet,” you whispered, remaining close behind him, guiding him to his bedroom.

He grunted and grumbled disapprovingly, and you might even have heard a suppressed ‘so annoying’ under his breath. You bit your tongue again, just hoping he would pass out once he was safely in bed — maybe come tomorrow, he could even give you an apology.

“Now you can leave,” finally stumbling out of your light grip, spinning around to serve you yet another one of his frowns.

“I’ll get you some water first-“

“No. I want you to leave.”

“Let me take care of you first, okay?”

“No, please just go home.” There was a sadness in his voice now. And maybe it was the lighting playing tricks on you, but you swore you spotted a shine gloss over his eyes.

Your shoulders slumped, unable to give your anger room to grow when he was so evidently upset.

“Osamu,” you breathed, daring to take a step closer. “What’s going on?” Carefully you grabbed ahold of his arms and guided him to the edge of his bed. He wasn’t accepting your gestures entirely, scooting further away when you sat down beside him.

“Nothing. Just don’t want you here.”

“Did something happen tonight?”

“No, nothing happened so you can leave!” It seemed like he tried to find back to the bite that had been in his tone when you first picked him up, but the sudden shift in his mood had taken control of him instead.

You didn’t think twice about reaching out, placing a comforting hand on his back — only for him to shrug it off.

“Atsumu said you’d been-“

A visceral groan interrupted you. “It’s always Atsumu, isn’t it?” He turned to look at you, sad eyes locking with yours and now you could definitely spot the faint gloss of tears.

“What?” You breathed in confusion, eyebrows narrowing instinctively.

“All night!” He said, almost more to himself than to you.

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“All night, he was on his damn phone, and suddenly he has called you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, placing your hand in his back again to bring him comfort, but you wasn’t sure it was to any help. “Yes, so I could come pick you up.”

Another petty scoff, tainted with poorly hidden sorrow, escaped him. “Why don’t you just go? I’m sure he would love to hang out with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you spoke softly, eyes studying his profile as his gaze was locked on his lap.

“I told you to leave!”

“Osamu,” you said sternly, fingers gripping his chin to force his focus back on you. “I said I’m not going anywhere!”

His eyes kept betraying him — his lips carried a frown and that crease between his eyebrows appeared to have grown stuck on his forehead.

But his eyes just looked so sad, as if somehow there was a lot of pent up feelings that had suddenly decided to spring to the surface and trap him in a spiral.

“It’s me,” you whispered, attention flittering between his eyes, hoping the tenderness you conveyed would convince him to reveal himself to you.

“That’s the problem.”

This was the first time you could remember being nervous around him, bordering on scared. You knew what you hoped he was getting at, but you were too afraid to let yourself be entertained by the pleasant fantasy.

It was so much safer to live in the naivety, thinking you were just more affectionate than other best friends. Entertaining a lovesick dream of being anything more was simply too risky, only seeing a scenario where you ended up hurt.

However, the look he gave you sprinkled just the tiniest bit of reality to your fantasy.

“Do you like him?” the innocent question tumbling out on accident, googly eyes staring at you before his shoulders bounced with a quiet hiccup.

“Like who?”

“You know who,” he whined, eyes pleading for you not to make him say it.

“Atsumu?” He nodded weakly, gulping down the nervous lump in his throat. “I mean, sure.”

“But do you like like him?” He caused heat to flush your face by his adolescent question.

“We’re just friends.”

“Are we just friends too?”

For some reason, his bold statement had the tension in your body evaporate, shoulders slumping before you moved your hand to cup his face, certain you heard the softest hum leave him as your hand caressed him.

“No, we’re not.”

And then he melted into your touch, finally letting his sweet smile paint his lips instead of that damn frown.

“You know we’re not,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered just as low, “but I needed to hear you say it.”

“But Osamu?” Your voice was soft as velvet, watching how his eyelids had become heavy again.

“Hm?”

“You’re still really drunk,” you chuckled weakly.

“Don’t worry,” he yawned, “I’ve liked you for years, so I’ll still remember tomorrow.”

You had no choice but take his word for it, hoping he would in fact remember the small confession exchange that had taken place. At least you had the ability to bask in some relief, feeling as if tons had been lifted from your shoulders.

With no sudden movements, your hand left his face before carefully getting on your feet. His breaths had slowly turned deeper and slower, a clear indication sleep were to consume him sooner rather than later, gracefully leading him to lay down on the bed.

You pulled his covers over him, smiling to yourself at the peaceful sight and thankful the night had managed to take a turn for the better.

Just as you were about to head out of his bedroom, his soft voice spoke your name.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Osamu. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And right before you closed the door, you saw the sweetest smile stretch across his face once again.

an : also wanna thank the lovely lale for putting this whole thing together, and introducing me to this amazing group of people <3 comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[moonlight-prose]

For the touched starved scenarios maybe Logan with "hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters ^^ the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt"?? I think it would be so cute with logan finally breaking his own barriers, reaching out to the one he adores (or*cough* is very much in love with *cough*) bc HE doesnt realize how touch starved he is and becomes slightly nervous at initiating contact at first😫

how it lingers

a/n: have i shoved this into the small world i made with the previous ask from this list? probably. but they're just so cute and i'm in love. plus just the fact that reader is also probably really timid to initiate contact with him physically. but logan finally reaching out for touch (cause he's so starved for it), and getting a response such. just let this man be happy and in love.

summary: when affection is coupled with pain logan learns it's not worth asking for. what does he need with it? but a difficult mission has him seeking the warmth of a lover in the arms of a friend.

word count: 0.7k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: fluff, blooming romances, the start of a relationship, soft logan.

It happens after a mission gone wrong. Tension hung thick in the air when the X-Men entered the front entrance, their suits charred and ripped, faces lined in pinched frowns that said far more than they wished. Logan hung back on the porch, smoking the cigar to appease the growing anxiety building in his chest. He'd never been a fan of the crowd this group accumulated—especially not when kids were involved.

But somewhere in the throng of people stood you, waiting with hope in your chest and a light in your eyes that beckoned him closer. Charles held your attention for a moment, Jean meandering over to explain in grave detail what exactly happened. You did your best to cling to every word. Even as your mind wandered to the man still stuck outside—his hands curled into fists and eyes shut to the rest of the world.

"We aren't sure what happened," Jean mumbled, a dazed expression glossing over her eyes. "If it wasn't for Logan well…Scott and I wouldn't be standing here."

The echo of his name shot through your heart—his pain bleeding into your veins the longer you stood there listening to Jean explain what happened. He saved them. He was the hero. So why was did he remain outside? Entirely separated by the people who would happily welcome him in—the ones he silently considered family.

"Is he hurt?" you asked hesitantly, entirely aware of his healing capabilities.

Nothing could hurt the Wolverine.

Not physically anyways.

Jean shrugged, fatigue settling over her face in a darkened cloud that might take days to pass. "He's…Logan."

Which meant he was taking this time to shove away emotions he didn't want to feel—things that would wreak havoc on his mind. He pushed down things he didn't want to feel; the parts of himself that left him with the bitter taste of fear on the back of his tongue. So he smoked to distract himself and left everything else up to the rest of the team.

He found it was easier to mull over his actions alone. Safer.

You tuned out the remainder of the conversation, eyes catching on the subtle shift of the crowd as Logan finally made his way inside. He clung to the wall in the hopes of going unnoticed. A familiar act of self preservation he often grew fond of at times like this. He never liked being the center of attention—why would that change solely because of one mission?

“I’ll meet you guys later.” Their responses went directly over your head, your body drawn to the man who attempted to vanish into the corner beside a plant desperate for more water.

“Bub,” he greeted, arms crossed at his chest—face turned away from your welcoming smile, from the warmth you tried offering to keep the darkness at bay.

“They said you saved them.”

He grunted, eyes flicking back to see your shoulder slump forward an inch. Barely noticeable to others in the area, but Logan clung to every slight shift of your body. Each look and half hearted smile. He tucked them into his chest in the hopes of one day wiping them away. All the stress of being a professor, of choosing to get to know a man who barely spoke more than a few words at a time.

His hand tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan softly. Barely a brush against your arm, but the grin you gave in return lit a fuse he didn’t know resided at the back of his heart. Over the years he understood what connection meant. How to form them, why he should. But staying in solitude favored him best; he couldn’t hurt anyone if he avoided them.

Until you offered him a smile bleeding enough warmth to soothe his aching heart.

A silent agreement passed between your eyes, loud enough to echo in the back of his mind as your arms curled around his neck. And with a blissful sigh filled with contentment, he melted into your touch, hands clasping around your back—arms tight and strong across your waist. Logan hugged you with his whole body, a swathing blanket of heat that poured out of him and enveloped you in love.

“Thanks bub,” he mumbled into your shoulder, head ducked as he shifted back to the corner—still tightly wound around your body.

You smiled, burrowing your face in the soft leather of his jacket. “Anytime Logan.”

[cilliansmesoftly]

chase it

pairing: tyler owens x fem!reader

summary: tyler has been harboring a severe crush on the team’s new meteorologist, but he’s scared she’s smart enough to reject him.. why can’t he follow his own mantra?

warning: best friends to lovers, love confession, angst, kissing, one bed trope, virginity lost, steamy smut!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she haunted his dreams, she plagued every thought running through his head. all the meaningless hookups he’s had could never compare to you, and he hadn’t even had you yet. he hasn’t had a kiss, hell, he hasn’t gotten more than a proud pat on the back from you. so why couldn’t he escape the hold you, unknowingly, had on him?

his entire brand was based on chasing fears. to not let it hold you back from the things you want most. tyler had you in some ways, at least. he had you as a best friend, his most trustworthy companion. the two of you got along so well, was it worth ruining?

he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. he’d much rather have a tornado pick him up and throw him into the sky than risk you not being in his life. you were too important to the team, to the cause, and to him. you got offered the opportunity to prove your meteorology skills on the field rather than behind a computer, and you couldn’t pass it up. you risked your career for this, and tyler would be damned to be the one to take that from you just because of a silly, gut-wrenchingly painful crush.

the team was at a local motel in oklahoma after a long day of chasing. dozens of other teams were in the parking lot, tailgating. tyler could hear the strum of guitars, singing, and laughter outside the window of his room. it was small, it had a strange smell that he didn’t want to know the source of. his eyes were fixed onto the box tv sitting on the dresser before a knock was heard at the door.

tyler sighed before getting up, his legs and back sore from how hard he had rode the truck today. the poor red dodge was battered and beaten from debris and tyler’s body was slammed around in his seat, but god, he loved it. he loved the chase, the adrenaline, the thrill. he could do it all day everyday without so much as a thought of fear. however, his breath hitched in his throat when he opened the door to reveal you in all of your gorgeous glory.

“hey.” you sighed out with a small smile. tyler cleared his throat and opened the door wider to let you in from the cool springtime breeze. “the motel doesn’t have anymore rooms. i’ve talked to every employee and every manager i could find.”

“just stay with me.” he spit out fast and without thinking. you’re best friends, you love each other. what could go wrong with sharing a bed for one night?

“oh, thank you.” you sighed in relief and wrapped your arms around him, ty took a step back from the impact, but quickly recovered and took in as much of your touch as you would give to him. “you mind if i shower real quick?”

“no, go ahead. you got clothes?” he asked once she stepped out of the embrace. he would kill someone to see her in one of his shirts. he imagined it baggy on her frame, her legs out on display and barely anything underneath the fabric. he imagined himself running his fingers down the smooth, soft skin of your thigh as you cuddled into him.

“did you hear me?” you snapped yours fingers in front of his eyes with a smile etched onto your face. he shook his head to clear the thoughts and raised his eyebrows, silently telling you he did, in fact, not hear what she said. “i asked if i could borrow one of your shirts, if you don’t mind.”

“i don’t mind at all.” he said, walking around the bed to his duffel bag. he pulled out one of his favorite shirts, it was worn and comfortable, and he tossed it to you. you caught it with feeble hands, giving him a death stare. he knew you were clumsy and he used it to tease you any chance he could. he chuckled at you, watching as you just shook your head and walked into the small bathroom.

if his thoughts were running before you got here, now they were sprinting a full on triathlon. racing and branching off into a million different scenarios for how this night would go. maybe it wouldn’t go anywhere. maybe he’d put out the fire that was burning him alive, eating him up with desire. but maybe it would turn into something more. maybe he’d chase his feelings, maybe he’d ride this fear and turn it into everything he’s wanted since he met you.

if you feel it, chase it.

he repeated his tagline more than a hundred times in his mind. telling himself over and over and over. and in the middle of telling himself one last time, you stepped out of the bathroom and his breath was stolen from his lungs. your hair was wet and it was dripping onto his shirt that fit you so well. it suited you, wearing his clothes. it felt good, it felt normal.

“i feel so much better.” you smiled, climbing into bed. tyler was sat on the chair in the corner of the room and you frowned at how far away he was. “you coming to bed?”

tyler nodded and stood up, he pulled his shirt over his head and you swallowed. his abs were carved and chiseled, a deep v-line at the end of them, just above his belt and leading into his blue jeans. you had to stop yourself from staring before he caught you. he sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing you, as he pulled off his boots. you almost reached out to graze your fingers over the tanned skin of his back, but you caught yourself. you can’t fall for the face of your team, you told yourself. even if, at night when you were all alone, you imagined the two of you together. you thought about living together, chasing storms for a living and making the most out of chasing your fears, making the most out of life.

you thoughts were interrupted as tyler started to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down. you smiled when he caught you looking, so you tucked your face into the pillow on his side of the bed so he could undress.

“you can watch, darlin. you know i don’t mind.” you could hear the smirk in his voice and you shook your head against the soft pillow with a giggle.

“shut up.” your voice was muffled by the pillow, making tyler laugh under his breath. he pulled a pair of grey sweatpants out of his bag and slipped them on, collapsing on top of you on the bed. you groaned under his weight, trying to toss him off, but he wouldn’t budge. “ty, i can’t breathe.” you laughed out. he only snuck his hands around your waist, tickling your sides. you shrieked, your knees trying their best to buck tyler off of you. your laugh was music to his ears and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. he braced his legs to straddle you, so you couldn’t escape his unrelenting hands. you were wheezing, trying to toss and turn away from him.

tyler suddenly stopped and as you were trying to catch your breath, his lips met yours in a soft, but quick kiss. your eyes shot open and you gently pushed him off of you. tyler sighed, opening his mouth to apologize, but you cut him off.

“i can’t do this, ty.” the nickname falling from your lips made tyler feel like a child getting scolded for coloring on the walls.

“why not?” his voice was pleading, his eyebrows were pinched, making a cute little wrinkle appear on his forehead. you sighed, bringing your knees to your chest.

“because you’re my boss. you’re the leader of our team. i don’t want to jeopardize our relationship.” you shook your head. your brain was thinking clearly, logically. but your heart, on the other hand, was screaming at the top of its lungs, trying to get you to confess how you feel, how all you’ve ever wanted in life was someone like tyler. someone who makes you feel safe, secure. someone who would push you to live life to the absolute fullest, never letting fear take the wheel.

“we wouldn’t jeopardize it, y/n. i-i like the shit out of you, baby.” he dropped his head onto the bed in slight defeat before looking back up at you. “we can make it work.” his heart was pounding out of his chest, he was begging you to let this happen. he couldn’t face you if you didn’t.

“i-” you sighed, shoving your face into your hands. in and out, you breathed. thinking of every possible outcome that this could bring. “what about all of your other girls? the ones you take up to your room at night and never speak to again? are you gonna do that to me?”

“y/n, i would never to that to you.” he said lowly, taking your hands away from your face. your eyes were slightly watery and red-rimmed. his heart broke at the sight and vowed in his mind to never be the one to make you look like this again.

“how do i know that? you’re tyler owens. tornado wrangler, and known lady killer. how can i be sure that you won’t leave me for someone better?” you asked. you were honest in your questions, voicing every doubt you had, though there were only a few.

“there is no one better. there is no one that knows me better than you, y/n. no one who makes me laugh more, no one who makes me smile more, no one who can ground me like you, even in the face of a disaster.” he climbed to your side, taking your face in his hands to make you look at him. a slight tear fell down your cheek and tyler thumbed it away. you sighed, looking down while shaking your head.

“what if this isn’t a good idea?” you asked, your voice small and full of trepidation. he scoffed and pulled you closer, practically sitting in his lap now.

“i haven’t had an idea this good in a long time. you can vouch for that. most of the choices in my life aren’t very smart, but this one?” he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “i’ve had to build up so much courage and strength to even hint that i wanted this. i was scared.”

“you? scared?” you scoffed. “what’s all that talk about riding your fears then?”

“i guess i felt it… just took me a while to realize if i didn’t chase it, it’d slip from my fingers.” he kissed the top of your head and you leaned up to capture his lips. it was slow, gentle, telling him everything he needed to know about how you felt. you wanted this.

“you know, you took my breath away when i first met the team.” you said against his lips, and he groaned, leaning his forehead onto yours.

“all these months we’ve wasted, we could’ve had each other on the first day. i thought my legs were gonna give out when we picked you up at the airport. you were the most beautiful thing i had ever laid eyes on, baby.” his words made your heart ache, no one had ever said anything so sweet to you before and you knew were in good hands.

“no day with you is wasted.” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him down to kiss you. you swiped your tongue on his bottom lip, begging to explore him. he didn’t even think before opening his mouth wider and intertwining his tongue with yours, massaging all around. he groaned into the kiss like this is all he’s ever wanted, which is true. his hands found your waist and pulled you under him. one of his knees were between your legs and the other was braces beside your right leg. he brought his knee up higher, allowing you to grind down on the soft fabric of his sweatpants. your mind was racing again, trying to find the right time to tell tyler. as if he could sense your thoughts, he pulled back slightly, panting.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he hand came up to caress your cheek and you leaned into his touch before hiding into his forearm. “what is it?”

“i’ve- i’ve never…" you trailed off with a frustrated huff. tyler didn’t catch your drift, looking at you with confusion, but also patience and admiration. “i’ve never done this before, ty.”

“oh,” he replied, and you sighed into his skin. “we can wait.”

“what?” you looked back at him, your brows furrowed slightly.

“if you want to wait, that’s okay. we don’t need to rush.” he said gently.

you thought for a moment. you trusted tyler with every bone and fiber of your being. there was no one else you thought would be more careful and gentle than him.

“can you teach me?” you looked at him with hopeful eyes and tyler had to hold back from bucking into you at your innocent expression. so cute, so sweet.

“yes, baby.” he sounded so sincere, proudly honoring the fact that he would be the first you trusted enough to guide you through this. “as much as i love how you look in my shirt, can i take it off?”

you nodded, but he tsked with a shake of his head.

“gonna need your words, sweetheart.”

“yes.” you breathed out, your body tingling in arousal and slight anxiety.

“relax.” he said into your ear before kissing your cheek. his fingers grazed your sides where his shirt had rode up on you, he slowly slid it up your body and over your head, tossing it onto the motel room floor. “i got you, okay?”

“okay.” you nodded.

“you’re breathtaking.” he whispered, leaning back to take you in. the valley between your breasts was beckoning him to kiss the skin, to mark his way all the way down the length of your body and all the way back up. “never seen anything so pretty.”

you blushed at his words, covering your face with your hands, but tyler whined and brought them back down.

“don’t hide from me, darlin.” he toyed with the hem of your panties. a simple cotton pair that had lace trim at the top, he looked up at you for approval before sliding them down your legs and into the pocket of his sweats. his body shivered at the sight of your perfect center, glistening in arousal. he brought his index finger up to gather some of the slick and spread it around your core, unabashedly licking the rest off his digit.

you moaned as he kissed your clit, swollen and pleading for attention. tyler cooed as you writhed underneath him. “gotta be still, honey.”

“can’t.” you breathed out, feeling his breath hovering right over you was torture. tyler laid his forearm over your belly, a firm pressure to keep you from moving. his mouth was all over you, sucking your clit, kissing the inside of your thighs. you were a whining, moaning mess. as you leaned up a bit to watch him, you caught him rocking his hips into the mattress. a filthy, heavenly sight that had you falling back with a cry of pleasure. he was getting himself off on eating you out and you couldn’t take it anymore. “ty, i’m close.”

“hold it, darlin’.” he ordered, prodding his fingers against your hole. “gotta get you ready for my cock, doll.”

you could’ve sworn you saw stars in your vision. the stretch was beautifully painful and your hands white-knuckled the sheets at the sensation. tyler was still working your clit and it took every ounce of strength you had not to come. he slowly let you get used to the feeling then added a second finger and you hissed, trying to pull back. “she’s a tight little thing,” tyler looked up at you. “not sure if i’ll fit in there.”

you gasped as he started to rut his digits into you, scissoring and stretching your walls to get you better fit for taking his cock.

“ty,” you breathed his name, already working up to your orgasm again. you were drunk off of his touch. it only got harder to hold off your climax as tyler brought your legs to sit over his shoulders, completely drowning himself in your slick. his eyes were closed, looking like the face of a man who hadn’t eaten in days. with a few more thrusts of his fingers and his lips working wonders on your clit, your walls clenched around him and your back arched off the bed. tyler groaned into you as you came, bringing you impossibly closer to his face. he worked you through your orgasm, licking up your slick and making he sure he got every last bit, almost too precious to waste.

“you taste like fucking candy.” he muttered, crawling up your body to plant a messy kiss to your lips. you could taste yourself on his lips and you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip before indulging in him. everything about tyler, you loved. you loved how the stubble of his cheeks felt against your chin and cheeks. you loved the way you could feel his cock against your tummy in his sweatpants.

“take them off.” you said against his lips, woozy from your orgasm and only driven by pure lust. your heels pushed back on the hem of his sweats and tyler laughed at your impatience.

he made a show of undressing. teasingly climbing off your body and tugging the material down his legs before stepping out of them. your mouth watered at the sight of him through his boxers, looking painfully hard. he smirked as he watched how your face dropped when he finally slipped off his underwear. you recovered quickly, sitting up on your elbows to beckon him to you.

he leaned down, kissing your ankles and dragging his tongue all the way to your belly before pressing a kiss there too, he made his way all the way to the valley of your breasts. his lips and tongue sucking marks onto your skin and his hands caressing your breasts.

“you’re such a tease.” you whined collapsing back onto the pillow in frustration. tyler laughed, laying his head down on your chest.

“i’m just enjoying this.” you raked your hands through his sandy blonde hair, relishing in the way he gazed so deeply at you. “need to cherish this.”

“if you don’t fuck me in the next two seconds i’ll call boone to come do it.” you said it with a straight face, fighting the sides of your mouth to not quirk up.

“don’t say that ever again.” he rumbled seriously, his big hands spreading your legs wider for him. “this is mine.”

“prove it.” you challenged. your dominance wavered as ty let the tip of his cock gather your arousal, hitting your clit as he rocked against you. he bent down to kiss you, trying to distract you from the stretch as he slowly pushed into your heat. “oh, dear god.”

“you got it, baby.” he pushed back the hair on your forehead, kissing your cheek sweetly. your hands found solace in his hair again, pulling at the root when he bottomed out. tyler groaned at the pain, already holding back from his own peak. “you feel so good.”

“y-you can move.” you encouraged, panting as if you were running a marathon. tyler slowly pulled out and pushed in, cherishing the sweet little sounds you let out before rocking into your hips faster.

the sounds of your wetness, the joint moans and groans coming from both of you, skin hitting skin, it all had your head feeling dizzy. you were so high on the moment. the adrenaline was coursing through your veins, you wished this could happen every night after a day of chasing.

“you’re doing so good, angel.” tyler’s voice broke you out of your thoughts and you cupped his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back. the new angle forced him even further into you. tyler nipped at your bottom lip, his hips moving to the rhythm of their own song. “i’m getting close.”

“turn me around.” you gasped against his lips. tyler didn’t think twice before pulling out and turning you, hoisting you up so you were on your hands and knees for him. he marveled at the sight, slipping back into you easily. you both moaned at the feeling. ty was hitting your spot with every thrust and you had to muffle your loud noises with the pillow under your head.

“you’re all mine.” he growled into your ear, his hand gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest. his left hand reached around your body to circle your clit and you had to fight the urge to collapse back onto the bed. your bodies had a slight sheen of sweat to them and the room started to feel stuffy and hot. “say it.”

“i’m yours.” you mumbled.

“look at you, cock drunk.” he teased, your walls were clenching him with every thrust and he was losing his pacing. you felt so good, better than he imagined. “you wanna ride me?”

you didn’t have to say anything, you felt him pull out and suddenly you were on his lap, rubbing his cock through your folds, your head thrown back in bliss. tyler could come right then. to know he was the one making you feel like this while looking like that. you looked like an angel had just fell down from heaven and landed in his lap. you lined him up with your entrance, the two of you watching as his cock disappeared inside of you. you started to bouncing on your feet, the spongy spot inside of you getting abused with every movement you made. your knees were buckling from the pleasure and tyler caught on, matching his thrusts with your movements. his hand was rubbing up and down your back, the intimacy of it all made your heart ache.

“i love you.” your lips spewed the words faster than you could think. tyler flipped the two of you back over, kissing your lips before leaning back. his rough hands, calloused from work, dragged up your thighs, to your calves bringing them up to rest on his shoulders, he hugged your legs so that his face was all cute and smushed between them. his hips never wavered and you were so, so close to your peak.

“i’ve always loved you.” you came just as soon as the words left his lips and he was right behind you. his cock twitched as he emptied everything he had inside of you, your legs fell off his shoulders and he collapsed onto you.

the next few minutes were spent catching your breath, fingers tracing skin, and sweet kisses.

“i’ll be right back.” tyler whispered against your lips, getting up and going into the bathroom. you cuddled against the duvet and watched him in awe. he came back with a wet rag, and he carefully spread your legs to clean up the mess you two had made. you hissed at the overstimulation and he kissed the inside of your thigh in apology. he threw the rag into the bathroom without even looking to see where it went and cuddled back in bed with you.

“i meant what i said.” you said quietly, you cheek pressed into his warm chest. “i love you, ty.”

“i meant it, too. ever since i first saw you, i knew it.” tyler’s fingers traced the skin of your back, drawing unknown shapes. “i’ve always loved you.”

“how in the hell are we gonna explain this to the team”? you shook your head against him. you could only imagine the looks on their faces when the two of you walk out of your room in the morning. the once best friends turned to lovers overnight.

“i’m pretty sure they all know.” he laughed under his breath. “i overheard boone and lily making a bet about when we would get together.”

“that’s what they were talking about?” your head shot up in shock and tyler smiled at the expression on your face. “well, lily knew i had a crush on you, like, months ago.”

“yeah?” he asked. “i told boone about mine, too.”

“i wonder who won the bet.” you giggled into his chest.

the room fell into a comfortable silence, you and tyler just enjoying each others presence before sleep finally took over you. tyler fell asleep soon after, your bodies intertwined and hands laced together.

the morning after, you and tyler got a text from boone about a huge cell forming a few miles from where you were. scrambling to get ready, the both of you walked out of the motel room to greet the team who all looked at each other with knowing smiles.

“don’t say anything.” you scowled at the team, who all shrugged like they didn’t know what happened. tyler smiled, his arm wrapping around you and slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

“sorry about the room thing, y/n.” boone apologized to you, but your brows furrowed.

“how did you know about that? you were asleep.” boone smiled and took a few steps back.

“i might’ve slipped the manager fifty dollars to tell you there weren’t any rooms so that you and ty would hookup.” he said sheepishly, his feet turned to be ready to run at any time. lily shot up from her seat on the tailgate of the truck.

“what?!” she shrieked. “you cheated, asshole!”

“you owe me some money, lil.” boone stuck his tongue out, but sprinted away as lily started running after him.

“welp,” tyler watched as his team went into full defense mood, trying to get each member on either boone’s side of logic or lily’s. “think the tornado will wait on them to stop fighting?”

“fat chance.” you leaned against his chest, looking up at him. tyler looked down and his heart melted at the sight of you. finally his girl is in his arms. he could swoon. “i think we owe boone a thank you.”

“how long do you think they’ll fight?” he didn’t even look over the bickering friends. his eyes were solely focused on you. “can i sneak you back into the room for a few minutes?”

you thought for a moment, watching boone and lily cuss each other like siblings before looking up at tyler. “yes sir.”

the two of you ran off, back to solace of the room, tornados to be wrangled, but you couldn’t care less. if you feel it, chase it.

[madamecaos]

Crush (ing)

Summary: Where Ghost goes a little too rough on you in training then makes up for it.

5k+ ish words │ Ghost (Simon Riley) x Y/N

A/N: Angst with a smutty happy ending. Times are weird now, so I'm back to writing again. You know the drill, no proofread found here

-----

Part 1

It was merely a crush, you realized. It must be. Otherwise, you would have to not have sex again with Simon.

Because there was no way in hell a man like that would let himself be roped in into a relationship, and a relationship with you at that. You were sure he hated you, going by his nonchalant treatment when he wasn’t in your bed. 

There, another example. You haven’t even been to his room, which going by his arrogant attitude must be annoyingly spotless.

You hated him, or at least you wished that saying it would make it better for your sanity. Because this was Simon.

The first time you slept together happened in France, and it was not gentle. Well, you didn’t really expect any special treatment as a lover, but it wasn’t exactly a tender moment, more of a “blowing some steam” sort of thing. A ‘high-school make out session’ sort of a thing, or so you repeated in your head whenever his name came up in conversation.   

It’s not to say that it wasn’t enjoyable, but only a representation of the tone of your weird situationship. And you were fully sure that this was Johnny’s fault somehow.

“But he likes you, lass. That’s why he’s a pain.” He said, as if there was no doubt about it.

You scoffed at that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Your aching shoulder, after sparring got out hand, made you believe otherwise.

Now, Johnny said something about hanging out for drinks with some locals. The mission in Serbia took a pause on the wait for new intel, so as consequence your unit had a free week out of uniform. This meant more time with your team outside of work, and that meant that you and Ghost were at each other’s throats. Mostly you since his sunken eyes behind the sockets of his skullmask barely moved when you made jabs at him.

Then he stared and stared, a blank look threatening you into a near sycosis. Why couldn’t he just be normal and answer without underestimating you?

And one night there was a local event, promising alcohol and a good time. It was dark already, but the people there were lively, enjoying food and from far away, you could hear music and dancing. You couldn’t wait to try and merge with the crowd, maybe flirt a little with a cute local. And you thought you looked lovely, really good going by the way some of the soldiers ogled you. It must be due to you being one of the only females in the base, but it wasn’t harming your ego.

Johnny whistled when you met at the entrance, drawing attention to you in civilian clothes. You think they hadn’t seen you off your gear yet, and it must be shocking to see you in a normal long maxi skirt mapping the curves of your hips, a dark top and a fashionable coat, just as dark of course. You looked like a killer with your dark makeup and hair down for the first time in a while, sparkling earrings catching in moonlight.

“Little lady, are ya lost?” He whistled again, making you hurry your pace to shut him up. There was a diminutive pause with hesitation at seeing Ghost in the driver seat after Johnny moved away from the window.

He looked at you, eyes trailing leisurely from your toes to your eyes. You wiggled your white-painted toes in your wedges at the pinning stare. It was a pain smuggling nail polish in missions, but his ongoing stare made it worth it. They might not be up to code, but you didn’t really care. He blinked slowly as his fingers lightly rapped against the steering wheel in what you thought to be annoyance.

“Are ya coming?” The brute asked, still bitter by your word ping-pong match in Price’s office. You certainly had won because you believed yourself capable of acting as a secret spy inside a mob dead set on selling plutonium as a business. Yeah, they were a little out of their heads, but really talented at hiding, so here you were, stuck in Serbia. Ghost clearly thought you weren’t good enough of a liar to gather intelligence, or so he implied, but you knew it was because he didn’t believe you weren’t good enough overall.

Your past scuffles where Ghost was the opponent, pinning you down on the mat, were proof enough. This was the military, you weren’t allowed to make it personal, but when he bested you and made sure to show you your faults with overtraining you… His strict treatment with you hadn’t gone unnoticed by others and, well, let’s say that you weren’t feeling rational about it. 

To your annoyance he got out of the car, and for a second you expected him to fight you again, maybe prevent you from getting into the backseat with brute force. Would he say that you weren’t allowed to drink or have fun? Would your mistakes make him order you back to the gym instead of a night of fun?

None of the scenarios circulating in your head happened. Instead, he leaned sideways and opened the door. You stood still as he waited at your gaping. Then, obviating your embarrassment, you closed your mouth and got in at the rise of an eyebrow behind his mask. None of you mentioned anything at his action, one that you found odd. Maybe he did it as a power move? Or maybe he did it only for the shock factor to keep you on your toes?

Sitting at the back, immersing yourself in your distrust, you kept making eye contact with Ghost through the rearview mirror. Not on purpose, but he did nothing to turn his eyes away, only to drive, and sometimes you swore he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

But you kept fighting with facts versus what you wanted. Did you want him to seek you, look at you and only you? Your last argument kept circulating in your thoughts. Whenever he looked at you, pain followed.

So, he steered the rented car in silence, Johnny making conversation with himself. Ghost found parking nearby inside the city, near the pubs, and yet the car was left hidden in another block. Yeah right… it was the car that would draw attention, not the hulk-of-a-man wearing a balaclava in public.

And it was sort of inevitable the way your gaze would keep drawing back to the blonde near-white lashes free of dark paint or the sharpness of his jawline as he rumbled out another one of his jokes to Johnny. The lack of skull mask allowed you to obsess, no, notice the details. Yes, notice.

And he still had a balaclava. You felt like you were going insane in your ruminating and in your shame for sleeping with someone that didn’t find you worthy enough to show their face.

The guys flocked around you as you headed into the first club with music you could understand.

After a while, you realized you shouldn’t have dared to defy a Scotsman in a drinking game. Johnny was fully sober and you were giggly at your third drink. You were drawn to the dance floor and the bar behind it, or at least a moment for yourself.  A fourth drink didn’t sound so bad, you mused as you planned how to get out of the booth. You were fidgeting in the middle, Johnny on one side, Ghost on the other. Gaz was supposedly on his way, something about needing more time to get dressed. As if. He probably knew this night would be boring and would never arrive.

“Excuse me, scoot” you said, nodding at Johnny to move so you could get out. He huffed and practically ignored you with a teasing grin as he kept ‘scoping the perimeter’ or whatever that meant. “Johnny, let me out. I have to pee.”

“So? If you leave, who’ll be my wingwoman?” 

“Certainly not me. Ghost?”

“Not moving.”

You looked at the two, noticing that Johnny was leaning forward on the table, and Ghost wasn’t. Hoping that the shock factor would stave away the complaints, you swung your leg over Ghost’s hips, landing on your knee at his side. The skirt rode up to your knees as you stared him down, stumbling at your sloshed state. You expected to climb away quickly, but before you could escape into the booming music, solid hands tightened themselves over your hips. You swayed as you lost your momentum, hitting your lower back on the edge of the table, empty glasses clinking.

You hissed at the pain, the bruises on your back tender from yesterday’s training stung as your hands grasped his shoulders for stability. One of his palms quickly spread on your lower back, preventing more accidents. Your lips clamped at the pain. His head was almost at your height, despite you being over him, a few inches up on your knees, spread over his thighs.

Dark eyes stared at you through his mask, but you could clearly make out a risen eyebrow in amusement. That little shit always found a way to get a rise out of you.

“Easy, doll. You should’ve just asked,” he rumbled lowly, barely heard through the music.

“Woah,” Soap added to your embarrassment.

“None of you would move, now let me off,” you didn’t wait for his permission and swung your other leg away, paving your way to freedom away from those steady hands. There was no way you could feel his warmth through all your layers beneath the skirt, but the shape of his fingertips still ghosted over your hips. Fighting the urge to look back, you walked away with flaming cheeks, and hurriedly headed directly to the bar. Well, more like swayed to the bar as embarrassment sunk in slowly in your drunken state.

It was almost as if he was completely unbothered by your presence whilst the mere thought of that skull mask made your logic haywire, aggression being an immediate outlet. You certainly needed that drink, or anything as a distraction, but the bar was unreachable. The hoard of people flaying their limbs to the deep base reverberating through your form didn’t allow you a direct way, so you tried to push yourself through the sides of the crowd. Even being half-way there, you saw that getting that drink would be a pain, the barstools fully occupied, a line of people trying to get the overworked bartender’s attention.

You sighed, knowing that you would have to wait for that reprieve for more than an hour, going by how slow the line was moving. After someone bumped into your sore shoulder, an answer to your question came in the form of the red sign of Exit behind you. Maybe you wouldn’t get a drink, but fresh air might help stave away the recurring memory of the shape of Ghost’s palms on you. The fact that you kept thinking about it made you want to punch something… Fresh air it is. Without looking back, you went outside into a back alley, the cold air helping you sober up enough to not stumble through the horde of smokers blocking the entrance.

What was this bar selling that was so full? You cursed lowly, knowing that your much needed moment of peace would have to wait some more. The thought of calling for a Taxi back to base crossed your mind, your annoyance slowly rising. Unfortunately, you left your purse behind with the other two, your bra carrying the only cash you had in the currency, enough for that one drink you kept dreaming about.

With arms crossed around you, you set your pride aside and found a dark corner to sit in, the lights and the music far away. A little misplaced wooden crate allowed you to take the weight off your feet, far enough to hide you from the locals chatting away over cigarettes. You weren’t as vigilant as your usual self, knowing that with your combat training, you were the most dangerous person amongst them.

With that in mind and at the relief of momentary silence, you closed your eyes, fingertips massaging your temples. Maybe it had been a blessing in disguise that you couldn’t get that drink. You had been bunking with another soldier in the common barracks, the cafeteria was always busy, your itinerary was filled with missions, training, discussing intel, fighting with Ghost and being subjected to horrible jokes and prompts from your peers. This had been the only moment you’ve been alone, you realized.

Peace was broken as you opened your eyes, military boots standing inches away from you. You scolded yourself for recognizing them immediately, not an ounce of you distinguishing him as enemy. Was it normal to even find annoying how silent he was when walking? You should’ve seen him coming.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker,” Ghost said, already knowing that you weren’t. You knew that to your core. He was too observant and too vigilant for his own good, or for your sanity.

“I’m not. Where’s Johnny?” You looked up, craning your neck upwards. The mass of him blended with the darkness of the sky behind him. You could only make out his eyes out of the balaclava.

“Inside,” He looked down on you and you debated if your pride was enough to make you stand up. Even if it was impossible, you wanted to be enough to stand at his height, for him to recognize you at something as your equal. He better walk away before you start spewing truths that would only confess your drunken self.

“And what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.”

You held in the scoff, rolling your eyes with closed lids. You waved him away, going back to massaging your temples. “You can tell Johnny I’m fine. Just getting some fresh air.”

He looked sideways momentarily, eyeing the smokers nearby, then returned to pin you down with the heaviness of his gaze.

“You’re hiding,” he said with no question in his statement, head tilting sideways with curiosity.

“No-“

“Away from me,” he rumbled deeply, almost to himself. “It seems we are at an impasse.”

“I’m not doing this right now. Whatever you want to talk about, will be at base with a superior present,” you glared upwards as he eyed the hands now in tight fists on your lap. He knew you were clearly referring to Price, who abided to the bureaucratic process despite his favoritism for his favorite killer. That killer wasn’t you obviously.

You were considered too sentimental, as if that was another flaw.

After a beat, he opened his mouth solely to aggravate you, you were sure. “Said superior suggested we resolve our issues outside of work.”

The comment felt like a mockery. “And this is out of work, right? Get a few drinks in the girl, lower her defenses… and just talk.”

He hummed, a sound you felt in the hollow of your chest. It was almost as if you couldn’t help but react to his every word as an insult. The resentment you held for him always made you wonder that maybe, if you hadn’t felt like proving something to him, you would’ve stayed as a mediocre soldier. That his tough lessons and obvious disdain were meant due to something greater. You wanted to be grateful, to see the good outcome of the estranged liaison you have with one of your superiors, but it was draining enough to know that all effort would go to waste.

“I’ll let them know you were not reciprocating, up to resolve our issues,” he answered with finality, knowing that his flat tone would make you take the bait. He didn’t even blink at your scoff, your eyebrows furrowing at your irritation, him knowing too easily how to get a reaction out of you.

“Issues?” You stood up shakily, leaning your weight on the wall behind you. “Why don’t you tell me what our issues are, Lieutenant?”

In a moment of bravery, you stood on the crate. Even with the added height, the top of your head didn’t even reach his clavicle.

“You’re angry.” He crossed his arms uncharacteristically, biceps bulging at the tension. His eyes roved up and down, as if searching for a clue as to what had you so mad. And in something similar to a question, he added, “At me.”

Furious, but you didn’t correct him. You crossed your arms to imitate his pose, incredulous at the obvious statement. This time you used his tactic and stayed silent as an answer, opting for him to fill in the conversation.

“Tell me why,” he demanded gruffly.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He couldn’t just interrupt your me-time and start demanding answers out of you, you convinced yourself. You knew you were being difficult, but at this moment, this was merely deflecting. There was no way you would confess your insecurities upon his demands, as if the outcome were to be an improvement.

It was his turn to tilt his eyes up to the sky, seeking answers as he sighed in exasperation. In a second after contemplating, he let his guard down so plainly, you stood shocked and deadly still at his stance. What was this? His shoulders relaxed, arms resting down by his side, eyes beseeching to answer. A clear posture open to you. “I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

The endearment and the sincerity in his eyes caught you off guard. You blinked, eyes wide open, ignoring the surprise of the coiling heat stirring near your thighs.

Then he went on to call your call sign, spurring you to blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re mean to me,” You lowered your arms to your sides like him.

You felt like a child, whining, and impossibly allocating a responsibility that didn’t belong to him.

He lowered his chin in disbelief. “You’re… mad at me because I’m mean.”

His complete disregard made you do the exact thing you wanted to avoid. Spill.

“Just mean? No,” Your fury got the best of you, “You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

His eyes widened for the first time, your outburst uncharacteristic, even for your short temper.

“If this is about that night-“

 “You don’t treat me like the others. Even before that night.” You interrupted him, emphasizing what he implied, but felt hysterical at his clear misunderstanding. “You punish me for things that are not my fault. After we spar, I hide bruises because my superior can’t get over himself, but because its my job, I have to pretend its normal, like its professional. And then I’m the weak one? When others don’t have to take your beatings because…because… I don’t know why!”

“Sparring can be violent,” he justified, but to you, he didn’t sound so sure of himself.

“Violent?” You said, nearly shouting. “Violent?!” Ignoring the stiffness of your shoulders and the cold of the Serbian night, you shook of your coat. It was the first time he’d seen more of your skin, your uniform tended to provide full coverage. Even that night was fast and rough, but not unclothed.

He said nothing, his eyes wide at the purple imprints of his fists beneath the thin straps. You knew he could see, even in the dimmed light, how the bruises trailed down your shoulders. He must’ve known they would paint your arms as well, but you hadn’t shed your coat completely. You dared to believe he looked at you in horror, but your feelings bled over the dark alleyway against your better judgment.

“You set impossible expectations in our missions, in drills, and then you act like I’m some sort of failure when I can’t… I’m good at what I do. I do what I’m supposed to do, which is follow orders, swallow my pride, be a good soldier. And then you looked for me to get in my bed, and then nothing from you. So, I did what was expected, I stayed quiet. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He stared and stared, reclamations going over his head as his eyes trailed the rest of your body with furrowed eyebrows. Alarmed. It was the most expressive you’ve seen him. No balaclava could hide the tension that held him upright.

“And then you ask Price to keep me off the next mission, after I keep proving that I’m capable. What else do you want from me?”

For the first time in a long time, he had no sass, no jokes, no answer for what he’d done.

“Y/N… I-“ He choked.

“I’m asking Price to change units. This will be my las mission with 141,” This time, he looked like he wanted to say something, but you were done with his excuses. “I’m done with your disrespect and your justified violence.”

You threw the word back at his face, Ghost tense and quiet.

“Y/N?” Someone asked from the exit. As your head snapped towards the voice, you hastily put your coat on, covering your shoulders immediately.

Johnny clutched your purse, eyes roving over your face and red rimmed eyes. The hesitance to look at your body let you know he had seen enough. Blue eyes kept jumping from Ghost to you, back and forth connecting the dots. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just tired. Heading back to base,” You stepped down the crate, Ghost taking a sudden step back, as if you’d burned him. He officially wanted nothing to do with you.

“I will take you,” Johnny offered, gently and uncharacteristic, raising an arm to put over your shoulders in comfort, but let it fall as if he thought it over.  In a second, he turned with an expectant palm towards Ghost. “Keys.”

He didn’t ask, he demanded. And Ghost, the good soldier he was, followed orders.

“The Lieutenant will take a cab.”

The Lieutenant didn’t argue.

--

The ride was tense, Johnny flickering glances at your silent state. As you stared blankly at the windshield, he hid his anger under his worry.

“Do you… should you talk to someone?” Johnny asked tentatively, indicating that maybe someone of a higher ranking should get involved.

“No,” you answered, finality in your tone.

You opened the door hastily when you arrived, avoiding any opportunity for him to ask more questions.

You had done enough talking for the night.

--

Thankfully, the common barracks were empty. But as you sat on the lower bunk bed, you felt a note crumble beneath your weight.

You stared at nothing in the dark, exhausted, taking deep breaths for a few minutes before you had to read, dreading another mission or another memo at your impertinence.

After gaining courage, the light post by the window allowed you to read that the note was a relocation to another bed.

--

The private room was yours, just like the private bathroom and the queen-sized bed. It was a slight gratification after everything that transpired a few hours ago.

And it was in another hall from your unit, further away from Ghost’s own private bedroom.

You didn’t want to think about him anymore this night, you thought as the nearly boiling water cascaded down your back.

As you scrubbed yourself clean, you reminded yourself that you needed to thank Johnny, he must’ve had to pull some impossible strings to find you a private bedroom amongst the fully occupied base.

In secret, inside of your new bedroom, you finally allowed yourself to cry.

Part 2

[bunny-jpeg]

hear that thump? i can't get enough.

lando norris

cw: smut/pwp, seduction, unprotected sex, the reader seduces lando, zak brown's daughter!reader, dirty talk, missionary position, pregnancy

this bunny runs on comments and reblogs! feed the rabbit!! *thumps foot*

this felt wrong. but in the world of formula one, wrong didn't always mean bad. or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself as you got ready.

you got on the sheer stockings and the pearl necklace that you had gotten as gift. you made sure your hair was perfect, everything was in place. you had actually redone your make-up twice because you hated how it looked. everything had to be perfect for tonight.

you believed it was the night that would save mclaren.

another look in the mirror, you tried not to hyper focus on perceived flaws. you exhaled deeply, you were getting into your head. you placed your hands on your hips and examined yourself from all angles. you sighed, "he's not going to care, he's a guy your age. they only care about one thing."

yet, you worried.

you felt responsible for helping your father, zak brown, keep his driver's for the 2025 season. especially one in particular, lando norris. there was an uneasiness under the surface, while the tabloids and rumor reddits hadn't caught wind of it yet. you could tell that lando was looking away from mclaren.

and you knew that your father wanted to keep him in that driver's seat for the team. so as you got yourself ready for a dinner with lando, you felt the hammer in your chest. you looked in the full length mirror in your bedroom before you grabbed your purse and headed to the uber outside of your apartment.

lando was waiting outside the resturant for you, one hand in his pocket and the other on his phone as he tried to keep himself busy. you felt a hammering in your chest. tonight was simple, seduce lando norris.

"lando!" you chirped as you walked towards him. your heels clapped against the concrete under you. your arms open in a friendly manner. he looked up and beamed at you. you embraced him tightly, he returned it and even picked you up a little.

"there she is, oh wow. i haven't seen you in forever!" he laughed.

you smiled at him and placed a hand on his bicep, "i saw you you like three months ago! i have been busy with university."

he chuckled, "i know, i know. i'm pretty sure you had to squeeze in getting dinner with me."

you replied, "lando, you're more than worth it. i'll clear a whole day if i had to." then you took him by the hand, "come on, let's eat." the place was beautiful with the food prepared in a way that screamed expensive.

you sat across from him and laughed at all his stories. you could tell that he was enjoying the attention. the smiles, the food, the bit of liquor. he even complimented your laugh when one of his jokes really landed and you got a little louder than normal.

"lando. can you be honest with me?"

"anything."

you pouted a little as you leaned a little bit forward. the low light of the restaurant caught the colour of your eyes perfectly. the way you sat gave him an ample view of your cleavage. you asked softly, "you're not leaving mclaren, are you?"

"no.. i mean... no, no." lando seemed a little nervous answering.

you replied, "good. because i'd hate to see you go. i like our time together and well, i was hoping we'd have more time." you gave a soft smile, "you always were my favorite." then your eyes cast down to you half finished meal.

the sight of you, you almost looked vulnerable. sweet and soft, the kind of woman that lando wanted on his cock. he knew it was wrong, fucking the boss' daughter. but you were both adults. and your sweet words of praise only enticed him, made blood rush to his cheeks. colouring him pink.

you poked at the piece of pepper on your plate as you sighed, "don't leave me, lando. promise?"

he shifted in his seat and nodded dumbly. hook, line and sinker. he replied, "of course, i'd never leave you. who even told you i was thinking about it? because i wasn't."

you shrugged, "you know what rumours are like. hard to tell fact from fiction."

lando placed his arm across the table, palm up so you could hold his hand. delicately you placed your hand in his. he gave it a firm squeeze. not enough to cause damage, but to reassure you.

he said, "don't worry, beautiful. i'm not going anywhere. plus, i think i look a lot nicer in orange." he chuckled. any correspondence he had with the likes of alpine slipped out of his mind and replaced with thoughts of your beautiful smile and soft curves. alpine was nice, but the softness of your pussy was even better.

you ended up back at his place, he drove you both him with his hand on your thigh. every so often you caught him catching a glimpse at you.

"if you're worried about my father finding out. don't worry, he's not an over protective monster. if anything he'd be happy that one of his boys is taking such good care of me." you said.

"right, right. i just keep thinking that this is all a dream and i'm going to wake up with a mess in my boxers." he gave your thigh another squeeze as he went into the parking garage of the building he lived in.

his lips were on yours once you were in the elevator. he had you pressed against the mirrored glass with your thigh up against his waist and his fingers pushing the bottom of your dress skirt. his kisses were hungry, like a man on a mission.

and it made you run hot, this was better than expected. it seemed almost too easy, but you were happy that you got confirmation out of him that he was going nowhere.

you giggled against his lips, tasting the fine dining on them. when the elevator opened to his floor. he took you by the hand and led you out. once in his apartment, you pressed up against the side of the couch with the man's lips on you once more.

"you're something else, miss brown." he chuckled as his lips at your pulse point. he could feel your rapid heartbeat, his hands at your middle, feeling you up.

"and you're boring, mister norris?"

lando pulled away and grinned at you, "of course not. i just never thought someone like you would end up with a driver."

you laughed, "and what, let all the grid bunnies have fun? be for real!" you tried to get the zipper of the dress undone, but lando took over. he watched you undress once the zipper was pulled down.

you looked beautiful in the nude colour underwear you wore. you skin looked softer in the gentle lighting of the living room. you crossed your arms a little, a little embarrassed by your lack of clothes.

but lando took your arms away and said, "hey, nothing to be ashamed about. you're beautiful." then he started to undress as well. before it could go any further, he led you to the bedroom.

you practically bounced on the bed as you got onto it. and lando was quick to get the sheer tights off of you. his hands lingered around you left calf, giving it a squeeze which made you heart race.

you got out of your bra while he got out of his slacks. you swallowed harshly when you heard the jangle of his belt buckle. the heavy metal made you hot.

both of you were undressed and lando had you laid out on the bed. he wanted to look at you while you fucked. the intensity of the need for you made his brain run in circles. he got between your legs on the bed, his cock yearned for the softness of your wet pussy. he felt his heart skip when he dragged his hand up and down his length in anticipation.

you smiled at you, "lookin' good, norris."

he licked his lips, "of course, only for you." then guided his cock into you. he tensed up for a moment at the warmth, but soon relaxed once he got himself inside of you. heat flooded his cheeks further and the stagger in his heart gripped him.

"you look very handsome, lando. were you hoping you were going to get laid tonight."

he replied, "no, no. i just wanted to dress to impress you." he felt the twist in his gut at the sight of you. you looked so beautiful under him. as you pushed hair out of your face and felt him start to move. your mouth opened a little to moan.

you hid your face for a moment and smiled against your wrist, "well, i wanted the same. i just got so worried that you were halfway out the door with the team."

he moved against you, his cock touching some of your most sensitive areas. he hunched over you and groaned heavily. he was a loud one in the bedroom. he licked his lips as he gazed at your perfect form. he said, "i..i thought about it. ya know what it's like. it feels like everyone is dangling something in front of me. but, not you."

you hid your face a little more. while most were danging cars and money in front of lando's face. you were nude under him in his bedroom. as the bed squeaked under you.

"of course not, lando." you giggled, covering up your lie, "you know i'd still hold you very dear even if you went to another team." you gave him the sweetest look you could give him and it made him grin.

a little white lie wouldn't kill lando. not for the sake of the team. plus, his sweet noises only made warmth pool in your gut as he thrusted his hips.

you reached for him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. his face was up against your neck as you two moved in sync with one another. there was a fire burning in you. you cunt felt full in the best was possible.

"you feel like a dream." he admitted.

"and you feel just as nice." you said with suck softness. your little plan was working. you were winding lando up between your fingers. he wouldn't be going far after this.

you two kissed once more, it was less feverish. you felt the pleasure seep through your blood. you felt hot all over and your back felt sweaty against the navy blue sheets. you held onto his hair and softly scratched at his scalp, he moaned lazily into the kiss.

when he pulled away, he really started to work at your pussy. both of you were loud in the privacy of the his apartment. you held onto him tighter and you could hear his sweet praise.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful. i don't know why we didn't take the chance sooner. you look so good under me. the perfect girl. i was stupid for not seeing it sooner, like when we met. fuck. i need you, i want you."

lando's words were honey on your brain. you scratched into his shoulders as he continued to rut against you. your bodies moved in a quick yet steady rhythm. all building to the climax.

even in the depths of immense pleasure, you were patting yourself on the back for getting lando so pussy drunk that he was willing to stay with your father's team. you had concluded that you were a good seductress.

"lando."

"i know. i know. it all feels so good." he panted.

a few more heavy strokes of his cock and you were pulling him into a searing kiss. your legs locked around his waist. the kiss was messy and made a heat run through him. fuck, you felt amazing. you came with his cock stuffed into you and it was a head rush for you.

your heart hammered in your chest as you felt euphoria. lando took it as a chance to continue to drill his cock into you. his words were loose and messy, praise for you. it warmed you even more. he was close behind you and with his own climax it took the wind out of him. when he stopped thrusting, he got down beside you.

he was face planted into the soft covers of his bed, his cock throbbed and drooled a little bit of leftover cum. you chuckled at the sight and rolled over onto your stomach as well to throw an arm over his sweaty back.

you pulled him in for a kiss on the face and he made a sweet noise. he felt perfect and you felt achy in all the right ways. you thought that you had convinced him not to leave mclaren. to stay with the team and stay with you.

-

it turned out that it took more than one night to convince lando to stay. over the course of the summer break, he was constantly at your apartment. your little mission was a success but, also a failure.

a failure in the way that the birth control pill had a failure rate of 7%. lando stayed with mclaren, even signed a nice multi-year contract. it was hard to look at other teams when he was coming home to his beautiful future wife.

while it was a shocker to everyone, the news almost made your father break a blood vessel, it made sense. you two were around the same age, in the same circles. of course, lando norris was going to get you pregnant. but, it was worth it. the team was saved!

"i can feel him kicking." lando said softly.

except now you had a clingy fiance who was currently pressed up against your belly. his large hand across your middle as he practically melted. you had come to the conclusion that you sucked at the art of seduction, and that maybe your line of work should be a little different than trying to make deals with drivers under the table.

because most seductresses didn't end up very pregnant with a future formula one prodigy within a year.

[exocaliii]

❦︎ And You Look Half Dead Half The Time (nsfw)

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance that might finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, making-out, fingering + cunnilingus (r! receiving), bathroom sex, one use of Y/N even though I tried my best to avoid it lol, extreme jealousy/possessiveness, no-eul is not playing about her girl in this one LOL

A/N: finally reached the romance stuff in this one but there's still some build-up of course, hope you all enjoy and as always, i appreciate any type of feedback or comments, they make the writing worth it!! :D this is so self indulgent omg

—

When the platform begins to spin, you feel a firm grip on your hand, looking up to find Se-mi already staring at you with a calm expression on her face.

“Stick with me.” 

You nod, and before you’re able to check on Min-su, you’re nearly thrown off your feet by the sudden stop of the surface you’re on. 

“10 players.” 

The boom of the announcer clears your senses, and as Thanos and Nam-gyu laugh and spin, you see another group of five waving their hands for more people. You shout at the loudest volume you’ve used since arriving here for them to come over, and with a tight grip on Se-mi’s hand, you drag her to the open room right across the arena. Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Min-su (who you can now see was hiding behind Se-mi) follow right along, and, thank goodness, the other team of 5 do the same. 

“Are you okay?” You don’t respond to Se-mi's question because the answer should be obvious with the way you’re trembling, but she only nods in understanding. “Just stay calm, it’ll be fine.” You want to believe her, you truly do, but you see Min-su’s fear, and in that moment, you accept that this may be the game that kills you. 

The lock clicks open.

Your group of ten steps out, stepping over the blood of those who lost the last round.

You want to retch, but you stay focused and get back on the platform. 

With your hand in Se-mi’s, you block out the happy singing of Thanos and Nam-gyu, opting instead to pat Min-su’s back when you see him basically shaking like a leaf. He jumps, but turns to you with a grateful look in his eye. You pray that he lives, because someone like him should not die in a cold place like this.

“4 players.”

Your heart drops. Thanos glances back and forth between the three of you as Nam-gyu stands at his side. Your heart feels heavy in your chest, and your legs are stiff, ready to run. His eyes stop on Min-su, and you know what’s about to happen.

“You-”

“I’ll go.” 

Se-mi barely has a chance to react before you rip your hand from hers and run to find another group. Somewhere in the bustle of the crowd, you swear you hear her call your name, but you’re too locked onto three men in the distance. They’re already in the room, but they’re calling for a fourth person. Fear threatens to strangle you as you run over, the countdown playing loud in the overhead speaker. Their eyes are desperate, arms open to beckon you over to save both your life and theirs.

 

At the last second, you basically ram into one of the men as you barrel into the room, one of them slamming it shut behind you not even a second before the lock clicks. No one speaks as shots ring out from outside the room, and you begin to come to terms with your act of sacrifice for someone you had just met yesterday. 

Fuck, what were you thinking? Are you in this to win or not?

The lock clicks open, and you all step outside. There’s even more fresh blood on the ground, blood that you ignore as your eyes search the arena for your old group. 

“Y/N!”

You spin fast enough to snap your neck at the sound of her voice, and Se-mi runs over to you followed by the rest of the group. You think she’s about to hug you but she stops just short of it, arms lowering back to her side awkwardly before she resigns to grabbing you by the shoulders instead. For a second, you stare at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say.

“Oh shit, that was too cool girl.” Thano’s voice ruins the moment, but before you all begin heading back to the platform, you hear a soft voice from behind Se-mi.

“Thank you.” 

Min-su meekly looks at you with obvious guilt, and Se-mi drops her hands from your shoulders to take your hand as you all walk back towards the center. It’s comforting to have her hand in yours again (especially after you almost died letting go of it).

“It’s fine, I already saw the other group before leaving.” Obvious lie, but he didn’t need to know that. 

As you all begin to spin again, Se-mi gives your hand a short squeeze before looking down at you with a gentle smile that, as always, almost looks like a smirk.

“I was right about you.” You chuckle at this and turn away to hide your reddened face, but of course, the moment doesn’t last very long. 

“3 players.”

The three of you barely spare a glance at Thanos and Nam-gyu before you grab each other’s hands and run off, hearing the rapper scream a curse at your betrayal. You almost want to laugh, but you’re too focused on holding onto Se-mi and Min-su’s hands for dear life as you run towards one of the few open rooms still available. 

They’re filling up too quickly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see two other groups scrambling towards the one room you have your sights set on. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you come to the horrifying realization that groups of three might be too small to fit everyone that was still alive, even if they were all paired up. The thought makes your legs move that much faster, but just as you’re about to reach your safe haven, a body collides with yours and sends you flying towards the floor. 

10 seconds left.

“Min-su?!” He was on your left, but where is he?

7 seconds left.

“Get up, get inside the room!” Se-mi. You’re pretty sure it’s her rough hands that grab your sweater and pull you up.

5 seconds left.

“Where is he?! Min-su!” You stumble over your feet, your mind reeling as you’re bouncing back and forth between trying to find him and trying to follow Se-mi into the room.

3 seconds left.

“Wait! Wait, please help me!” He’s half on the ground, half fighting against a man trying to get up in front of him to enter a room to your right. You’re already in yours, and an arm wrapped tight around your waist prevents you from running out to save his life once again. 

1 second left.

“Let go! Min-su!” 

The buzzer sounds right as the door slams shut in your face.

The lock clicks shut.

Somewhere outside, you hear gunfire and the desperate cries of men and women who failed. 

For a second, you think you can hear him begging for his life, but then a single shot rings out and his fate is sealed.

—

Somewhere in the haze of emotions, you continue to grasp onto her arm like a lifeline. Your head rings, and you don’t even hear the announcer’s call for each of the next two rounds. It’s Se-mi who makes sure you’re right next to her the entire time, no matter which group you join or which room you scramble into. She doesn’t bother to ask if you’re okay (because it is extremely obvious this time, with tear tracks on your cheeks and shallow eyes staring into the distance), but her firm hold on you still shows her underlying care. That, and the slight shake of her body reminds you that despite her previous bravado and confidence, she’s still human just like you. 

When the game ends, you step over the blood of the losers to make it back to the main room (you wonder if you had stepped on Min-su’s as well - the thought of it makes you sick to your stomach). 

Thanos greets the two of you with excitement even after you left him and Nam-gyu in the dust, but you don’t even have it in you to entertain his antics now. Your head was pounding, and the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball on the spot was Se-mi’s arm around your shoulders; she was holding onto you like you would curl up and die if she let go, which you might. 

When you both settle into her bed, you really begin to feel the weight of his absence. 

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that,” she says, her voice quiet as if you were a deer about to sprint away. “...You wouldn’t have made it in time-”

“I know.” You’re curt, almost rude, and you feel bad immediately for your outburst. It wasn’t her fault, you reminded yourself. It wasn’t her fault that your first selfless moment in this hellhole means nothing now. “I… I’m sorry. You saved my life. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Her hand caresses yours, soothing you into finally allowing your tense body to relax.

Something about her gentle demeanor coaxes out a more peaceful side in you, and you lean your head on her shoulder. You’re pleasantly surprised at her lack of resistance, and something in your gut burns when she leans her head right back on yours. 

For a second, you think about No-eul and feel a strange amount of guilt creeping up on you, but Se-mi changes her grip on your hand slightly to interlace your fingers and it all goes away. You owe nothing to her. Companionship isn’t something she should bar you from looking for when you face death at her hands everyday now. 

What’s so wrong with finding your own comfort in the beautiful, kind, and unexpectedly soft woman sitting next to you? 

—

350 million won. 

It’s enough for those smugglers, enough for her, and so, it’s enough for you to change your vote. 

When red LEDs light up your face and you begin exchanging your blue patch for a red one, you feel the weight of the entire situation crashing down on you. 

You chose life this time. From now on, if you die, it won’t be of your own volition anymore. This fact disturbs you greatly, so you’re quick in pushing through the crowd to get right back to Se-mi’s side. You’re glad she chose to live too. If you made it out of here, you wouldn’t want to lose contact with her. Trauma bonds are pretty strong apparently. 

—

When two groups of men start walking out of the bathrooms covered in blood and money begins to fill the pig again, you shuffle a bit closer to Se-mi, and her grip on your hand tightens. 

Supposedly it was a brawl, and from the frantic head counts of both sides, the O’s had lost one extra man. The sight of a bloody Nam-gyu shuffling onto Thano’s bed, shaking from the drugs with a frantic, bloodthirsty look in his eyes made your stomach drop. Now, there was no idiotic rapper to take hold of his leash, and you were sure he would want to kill you two after you turned your backs on him twice. 

The cold steel of the fork you took from dinner provided a comforting weight inside your pocket. 

“Se-mi.” She turns towards you.

“Yeah?”

“Sleep on this side tonight, okay?” Your grip on her arm is tight and you know you must look completely shaken by now, but she still gives her signature confident smirk.

“Sure, but you better make it worth my while.”

Your face goes red and you scoff, making her chuckle. God, you’re glad you have someone like this by your side.

—

When the screams begin, you immediately dig into your pocket and pull out your makeshift weapon. You want to call out for her, but you’re terrified that if you make a single noise, you and her will be swarmed by the wolves tearing apart the people all around you. 

Where the fuck are the guards?! No, who are you kidding, of course they would sit by and let you kill each other. Probably the highlight of their night. Under the fear, you feel so much anger and pain at the situation that you can barely focus.  

No-eul’s face flashes in your mind once again but now, you’re beginning to struggle to differentiate her from the other murderers all around you. 

No, no, no. You can’t think that way. She’s not like any of them.

“You traitor bitch!” You turn your head down to look for the familiar voice, and to your utter horror, Nam-gyu is standing right below you. Across from him (and cornered against the wall) is Se-mi. Even with the strobing lights, you can see the intense fear under her angry expression. “I’m gonna fucking gut you!”

When he charges at her, you make one of the easiest choices of your entire life and roll off the side of the bunk. 

You nearly miss your landing, but your fork doesn’t and his scream of pain reveals that instantly. You take both him and yourself to the ground, but your heart is racing and you can still feel him bucking from beneath you, so you don’t get a chance to breathe before yanking the fork out of his shoulder and slamming it back down into the side of his neck. The feeling of it sinking it and spraying your hand with hot blood is sickening beyond belief, but you block out everything except the feeling of his squirming beneath you and raise the metal above your head again. 

You aren’t sure how many times you bring it down on him, but a body colliding into yours knocks you out of your spiral.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Se-mi’s voice barely comprehends in your ears, but you can feel her arms around you clearly. “He’s dead, it’s okay, we’re okay.” Her hand rubs your back soothingly, and only then do you realize there are tears pouring down your cheeks.

Your chest heaves as you openly sob, clinging to her like a lifeline and unintentionally smearing the back of her sweater with Nam-gyu’s blood. You shut out everything but her voice, and even when the guards enter and fire into the air, you don’t find yourself flinching once, simply dropping to the floor still in her arms.

—

When some of the players gun down all the guards in the room, you hide in the corner with Se-mi (who was still whispering comforting words into your ears). You watch as players 120 and 456 take center stage in the room, shutting down the last bits of the riot and forcing the one square-mask guard onto his knees. They call for others to join them, others with military experience or even those with the faintest idea of how to use a gun. 

Of course, you had military experience right alongside No-eul, but the ache in your body and the tight grip Se-mi has on you keeps you from getting up. Your head pounds and spins as your eyes begin trailing around the slaughterhouse of a room. 

Dead people in green, dead people in pink. Your eyes linger on the guards and their triangle-masks, immediately recalling the shape No-eul had on hers. 

What if…

No.

The moment the team of rebels leaves, you go to get up but a tight grip on your forearm drags you right back down. 

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Her eyes are confused but her voice is just as gentle as it’s been the entire time she sat there combing her fingers through your hair and whispering about how brave you were and how thankful she was. “Talk to me please, what’s wrong?”

“I just need to check something, that’s all.” She doesn’t look satisfied, but Se-mi lets you get up after you give her a brisk hug and a strained smile. 

With a shaky breath, you begin to make your rounds. You can feel the eyes on you as you walk up the first guard and pull off their mask, letting out a quiet sigh of relief at the lack of familiarity in their dead eyes. 

With each one, you grow more and more tense, steeling yourself for the possibility of seeing No-eul’s empty, dead eyes staring back at you. 

It would be the thing that kills you. The loss of your reason to fight in the first place. 

Kneeling down next to the final guard, you can barely breathe as your fingers brush against the edge of their mask. Your hands are shaking so bad and you curse yourself for your sudden lack of strength. You would die if it was her. You would pull that fork out of Nam-gyu’s neck and jam it in your own if it was her. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you tug it off and let it clatter to the side. Your breathing slows when you peek and immediately recognize the face as belonging to a younger man’s, not your No-eul. 

Please God, give me this one thing and let her live. Let us leave with my blood money and never come back.

—

You can’t even feel joy or disappointment when the rebellion inevitably ends in a whimper. 

456 is dragged in and from a quick glance around the room, you see that 001 and 390 are missing as well. 120 and 388 sit dejectedly not too far away from you, and you can’t help but feel for them; they were people, far stronger than you, that failed to be the heroes. You can’t judge them, you never even considered fighting alongside these brave people in the first place. 

Now that everything has calmed down again and lights-out happens like every other night and not the bloodbath that ensued earlier, you’re far more aware of the sticky feeling of blood on your skin. Your sweater even feels slightly heavier, the entire front of it stained with deep red fluid.

“I-I need to wash this off.” Se-mi, who was almost drifting off next to you, shoots awake and gets up right behind you.

“I’ll come with you.” It’s an unspoken fact that she definitely would, but you’re still happy at the confirmation. 

In the haze of everything that’s occurred, you completely forget that No-eul has been the only reason you’ve been able to get into the bathroom these days, and the only reason she lets you in is because you’re you. So, when you call out and the door opens as usual, you’re confused at her stiff posture. However, after a weird awkward silence, she steps aside to let both you and Se-mi in, almost slamming the door behind you two. 

—

No-eul’s eyes trail you two as you enter the bathroom together, and she can barely control herself from charging in there and kicking 380 out altogether; she had warned you about people like her, so what were you still doing clinging to her side like that? Moreover, seeing the blood practically covering your entire front was like a gut punch. 

She should’ve been there. She should’ve blown the heads off of whoever did that to you. She’s been careless, and she understands that now.

The worst she felt was during the Mingle game. Each time she had been sent in, her breath would hitch and she would hesitate for a few seconds at the entrance, eyes scanning the wide open area for any signs of you. Every single time she failed to spot the number 037 on the clothes of those she shot, a weight would be lifted off of her shoulders. 

After the final round, the room doors had opened just before she was able to leave through the soldier’s door. She takes the chance to search for your kind face, and instead is faced with the sight of you practically hanging off of 380, a lost, soulless look in your eyes. Pain for your sadness mixes with some other ugly emotion, and for a second, she lets herself imagine how your expression would change if she sent a bullet through 380’s heart. 

Would you cry out for that woman, or would you call No-eul’s name out of instinct, like a lost animal begging for comfort?

In the end, she simply leaves with her fellow soldiers, silently cursing herself for such a violent thought. 

—

As you scrub the blood off your face, neck, and hands, you do your best to not let your gaze drift back over to Se-mi. She finishes cleaning up long before you, and you can feel her eyes on you as you scrub away. But no matter how hard you seem to scratch at your hands, the faint red tint just won’t come out. Your breathing grows heavy, and you begin to rub at it harder with the soap. 

Your hands are still red.

The blood from his neck covers your hands, the sounds, the sounds-

“That’s good enough,” a soft voice sounds from beside you, gently taking your hands in hers as you shake.

“No, no, there’s still blood, I-, there’s still…” You turn your hands this way and that, examining them and the red tint you can’t seem to get rid of.

“It’s not blood, you’ve just been rubbing too hard…” She shushes you gently and her thumbs begin tracing circles on your raw palms. “I’m sorry you had to do that, I really am.”

You can only shake your head and press your face in the crook of her neck. It’s a familiar position, one you were in only last night but with a completely different woman. She’s just as soft as No-eul, but she doesn’t wrap her arms around your body and pull you close. Instead, her fingers find the zipper of your bloodied sweater and gently begin to pull it down. The motion makes you back away a little, and she lets your sweater fall to the ground after tugging it off you. 

It’s freeing without the weight of all that blood on you, and your heart swells when she takes off her own jacket to put it on you. This is the kind of care you rarely find yourself receiving, and whenever you did, it was usually by the hand of only one other person. You would have never expected the cocky, confident girl you met two days ago would become this important to you. 

You were right about her. Se-mi was the ever genuine, ever caring woman you hoped she was after your first real conversation together, and you wonder if the world finally decided to go easy on you for once by sending you a beacon of strength in the middle of this hellhole. 

“Thank you, Se-mi,” you breathe out, the feeling of her fingertips grazing the skin of your arms still present long after her hands have dropped back to her side.

She doesn’t respond. Her gaze is still heavy on you, but this time, you hold eye contact and let yourself drown in her eyes. For a split second, you’re sure you see them dart down to your lips, and you think she might just eat you alive with the way she’s examining you.

In an act that surprises even yourself, it’s you who leans forward and presses your lips against hers. Cliche fireworks don’t go off, but the second she reciprocates by grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, you feel the tension between you two finally reach a high point, and it’s euphoric.

You hold each other with pure, unadulterated desire as one of her hands travel down to your waist, pulling you in. The kiss deepens and somewhere in the back of your mind, you think of No-eul. She was right outside that door, what if you were caught?

What the hell are you thinking about right now?

“You’re beautiful, so perfect,” she whispers, and her words make your heart beat that much faster. “My brave girl.” Se-mi breaks the kiss to press her lips against your neck now instead, drawing a moan from deep in your throat. She’s still holding onto you like her life depends on it. 

Unfortunately, your mind is still whirling and you have to remind yourself once again that you owe No-eul absolutely nothing. She shouldn’t and wouldn’t be angry over you finding someone to love, who loved you in a place like this. Is it wrong to search for comfort when you’re so sure you might die tomorrow? Especially from someone like Se-mi, who has done nothing but protect you and care for you.

Your hands tangle in her hair as she slides a hand beneath your shirt-

“Player 380.”

You spin around as the door slams open, a gruff voice making you jump apart from Se-mi. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, but you do, especially when you can feel No-eul’s eyes trailing up and down your disheveled form, and you know she knows exactly what happened here.

“Get back to the room.” You look down to see her revolver gripped tightly in her hand, as if she’s fighting the urge to lift it.

“Just give us a couple more-”

“Now.” She practically growls out that last word, and you can hear a click in the silent bathroom as she loads her revolver at her side. 

Se-mi is brave, but she’s still smart enough to realize that she’s being threatened and would not win a fight against the taller woman with a loaded gun. WIth her head held high, she takes your hand and begins walking around the guard, but No-eul steps in her way and shakes her head.

“037 stays.” You all pause, and Se-mi grips your hand tighter.

“What? What the fuck are you on about? Just let us go back to the room-”

“She stays. Now get out before I make you.” No-eul takes a step forward, hand raising to point the barrel of the gun in Se-mi’s face. 

It’s difficult to hold herself back when she’s this close to doing what she wants with this random woman who’s begun impeaching on her world. The barrier holding you and No-eul together, apart from everyone else, has been disrupted, and she begins to wonder if you’ll actually hate her if she pulls the trigger now. She wants to, especially hearing you fucking moan for this woman.

Where else has she touched you? 

Her trigger finger twitches. 

“It’s okay, Se-mi,” you whisper, breaking your gaze from No-eul to look over at her. 

First name basis? You really want her to kill this woman.

“Just go, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Se-mi looks at you, confusion apparent in her features, but your face is perfectly calm and even though that disturbs her a little, she accepts it. She’ll trust you to stay alive with this psycho.

“Okay, just call out for me if you need anything.” No-eul scoffs at this, earning a glare from Se-mi before she walks out the bathroom. She spares you one final glance over her shoulder, and with a nod from you, she exits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!” You’re practically burning with anger at her behavior, but No-eul ignores your outburst and walks over to the door, turning the latch to lock it before turning back around to look at you. “You think ‘cause you have that mask on you can just go around pointing your gun at everyone?!”

“And what the hell were you doing?” She pulls her mask off, throwing it to the floor before pulling down her face covering. Now, you can actually see the anger simmering beneath her eyes, an accusatory look on her face as she steps closer. “Were you planning on having sex with her or something? This stranger you just met?”

Your face begins to burn for a different reason now.

“That’s… that’s none of your business. I’m a grown woman, I can decide what I want to do or not do.” Your voice is far too unsure and she laughs sarcastically. Running a hand through her sweaty hair, she approaches to stand right in front of you. Your breathing slows as her eyes trail down your face, locking onto the number 380 right above your heart. Her lips curl into a frown and she grabs Se-mi’s sweater, looking like she wanted to burn a hole through the number on your chest. 

To her, it’s a reminder of her failure to protect you as she swore she always would, and now, in the wake of this failure, another person has come along and threatened to take her place - a place in your life she would kill anyone to keep. 

“Take this off,” she breathes out. The air is tense, and you almost want to deny her just to see what she would do, but fuck, she almost looks genuinely hurt and you can’t say no now. 

With your eyes still locked onto hers, you slowly pull the sweater off and let it drop to the ground at your feet. Her eyes are still pinned to your chest, but now you’re so close that you can feel her soft breathing on your face. You swallow harshly and press your face against her shoulder, bunching up her pink tracksuit in your hands as you pull her closer. The feeling of her so close again kills all the tension in your shoulders. This is the safest you’ve felt in 24 hours, and it’s in the arms of a woman who’s been killing people like you the entire time. 

You’re almost a bit ashamed, but what’s wrong with being a bit selfish for once?

You’re shaking in her arms when she pulls back slightly to cup your wet cheeks in her hands. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying again, but now, she’s looking down at your glassy eyes and swollen lips with so much intensity that you forget why you were crying in the first place. Her thumb swipes a tear off your cheek before she leans down, lips brushing against yours. 

“My beautiful girl.”

Finally, nine years after the day you met, she presses her lips against yours and claims you as hers. Faintly, you feel your back collide with the wall behind you as her tongue slips in your mouth. You’re holding onto her suit for dear life as she practically devours you, and you wonder how you were ever angry at this woman. It’s far more intense than the softness you experienced earlier with Se-mi, and you’re beginning to feel the effects of being pent up for so long. 

It’s not like you’ve never had sex with her before (to be fair, it’s only happened once), but this was far too emotional to be compared to the drunken haze you were both in when she fucked you over the seat of her van. There were no kisses shared then, no gentle caress of your face before she took you for herself. 

You’re dragged from your own thoughts when you feel a hand slide under your shirt and bra, gasping into her mouth as a cold hand cups your breast, roughly pinching your nipple between two fingers. You whimper right into her ear as her lips move down to your neck, sucking and biting as you openly pant. She’s practically surrounded you by now, but it’s not enough. 

With trembling hands, you grab the zipper of her pink suit and yank it down to reveal her slender body underneath. She practically tears the black turtleneck underneath the suit off as you stare. Your fingers scratch down her toned torso and you drink in the wonderful groan that leaves her mouth. As you’re preoccupied, she tugs on the hem of your sweatpants, pulling them down right along with your panties in one pull. 

Faintly, as her hands grip the plush of your thighs, you try to determine if you’ve ever felt such strong feelings of desire, of love, of anything with anybody. 

No, you’re sure you’ve felt this before. 

Your eyes shoot open as she calls your name. Somewhere in the haze, No-eul has dropped to her knees in front of you, and now, she’s looking at you like you hold the world in your hands.

“Do you still love me?” A pause, and her fingers press harder into your thigh, cold leather gloves long forgotten on the floor. “Can you still accept me?”

Every moment that you remember being so close to that overwhelming emotion, No-eul is right there next to you. 

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

A tear falls from her pained eyes, but you aren’t given the opportunity to wipe it away before she leans forward and presses her open mouth against your core. A gasp leaves your mouth and you immediately tangle your fingers in her short hair. It’s a bit too much to take in all at once - the woman you’ve loved for years is fucking you, and this time, you think she might actually love you back.

No, who are you kidding, you know she loves you. Maybe not as much as you love her, but she has to love you if she’s on her knees like this for you.

With the comfort of this knowledge, you lean your head back and lose yourself in the feeling of her tongue deep inside you, strong hands holding you still against the wall even if your legs feel like giving out. As your moans and pants fill the room, you beg internally that Se-mi isn’t waiting right outside the door to walk you back (or at least let the sound-proofing be decent). 

Unsurprisingly, after a couple years without any genuine intimacy with anyone (you couldn’t bear to let anyone fuck you after No-eul did), you reach your peak quickly. It doesn’t feel like some triumphant moment; your legs shake as the tight coil in your stomach unwinds and it’s satisfying to some extent, but you can’t stop the sudden rush of tears that follow. 

Why did your acceptance of your feelings for her have to come in a place like this - covered in the blood of someone you killed with your own two hands? 

Your legs finally give out in your grief, but she’s quick to catch you, leaning back to properly sit down on the floor as she carefully guides you onto her lap. For a moment, you just tuck your head in her neck and cry as a hand gently rubs your back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” No-eul whispers, caught up in her own guilt for leading you down the same hateful path she accepted long ago. Why did you have to love her? Why did you have to follow her road towards self-destruction, the one she vowed to shield you from?

You want to tell her that she has nothing to be sorry about because you chose all of this on your own, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re worried that if you open your mouth now, all you’ll do is start spouting nonsense about how much you love her and how much of your humanity you would forsake to protect her dream. 

Instead of further exposing yourself, you gently take the hand she’s kept on your waist and guide it down lower once again. To her credit, she understands right away and you’re given no time to prepare for the two long, slender fingers she pushes inside you. The sound of your sharp inhale right next to her ear must’ve been enough confirmation that you were okay, because she immediately starts moving them up and down inside you, rubbing gently against your still sensitive walls. 

Your hands wrap around her back and grip her shoulders as your hips begin to move in tandem with her hands, your heavy breathing a stark contrast against her soft one. The hand she had on your back is still there, soothing you until your tears turn from ones of sadness to ones of pleasure. 

As the high you’re chasing starts to get closer, you tear your nails down her back. Even though she’s still the same person as she was minutes ago, something feels different this time.

“Please don’t stop, please-”

“I won’t, I swear.” The hand on your back flies down to grip your hips to hold you steady as your movements grow more frantic. “I’ll never let you go, not for anything.”

You almost fall forward when she suddenly leans back, but you catch yourself on her shoulders once again. This time, she looks you square in the eyes as she pushes you over the edge, her gaze filled with an emotion you know too well.

“I love you,” she breathes out, and this is all you need to fall apart in her hands. “I’m in love with you, I can’t let you go, I won’t.”

In the afterglow of the moment, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you right up against her body.

“Even if you can’t love me anymore, I’ll continue holding onto you for the rest of my life.”

You smile at her words. You feel more content than you ever have before.

It wouldn’t be so bad to die in this place now.

—

A/N: my bad min-su fans and nam-guy fans, its for the plot y'all😭😭also if im being completely honest, I started writing writing this longass story just for smut with no-eul but it got so unexpectedly deep cuz I couldn't handle writing it with no build-up or emotional tension or ANYTHING

hope y'all enjoyed and LOL to the fellow FREAKS out there I hope the smut was alright cuz that was the most difficult part for me... LMK WHAT U THINK!! pt. 3 is coming in SEVEN MONTHS LMFAO😭😭😭SEASON 3 SAVE ME... SAVE ME SEASON 3

also if u request feel free to add details and stuff I might be able to build it into a longass story like this (but WOW this took too long) also I LOVE TO WRITE SAD SHT!!! SEND ME SAD SHT ILL LOVE IT!!

Taglist: @asvterias

[puckinghischier]

Tentastrophe

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together

notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?

[5.1k]

You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.

You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.

Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.

Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.

You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”

“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.

“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.

Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.

“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.

“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.

Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.

When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.

You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.

You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.

You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.

As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.

Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.

Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.

After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.

Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.

The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.

Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.

No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.

You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.

That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.

The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.

You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.

Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?

Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.

Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.

You were in for a long week.

———————————————————————————

“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.

“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.

“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.

Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.

You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.

Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.

“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.

“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.

“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.

“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.

“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.

You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”

You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.

Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.

Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”

A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.

You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.

Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.

Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.

After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.

You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.

Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.

“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.

“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.

“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.

“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.

“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.

“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.

“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”

You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”

“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.

You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.

“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.

A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”

Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”

You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.

“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.

You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.

“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.

After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.

All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.

Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.

You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.

You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.

You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.

You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.

You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.

“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.

You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.

“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.

“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.

“Hi, Schatz.”

You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.

You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.

Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.

His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.

Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.

You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.

You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”

Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”

“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.

He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.

“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.

“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.

You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.

“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”

“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.

His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.

Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.

“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.

Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.

Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.

You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.

You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.

“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.

“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.

You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.

“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.

“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.

“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.

“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.

“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.

The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.

“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.

“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”

You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.

“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”

He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.

“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.

You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.

You burst into a fit of giggles.

You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.

Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.

You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.

You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.

Yeah, you hate camping.

[nmakii]

the look of love, the rush of blood

— what it means to date nagi seishiro, but not actually date him

yes this all happened sue me writers are thieves. omfg this id os humiliating to acc write down why is my life like this guys. btw can u guys like… gen tell me what u think ab this dynamic in comments i have to know im so bad at relationships

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means staying up until 2 AM together. it’s finals week, and you’re supposed to be studying. but nagi wanted to play dress to impress with you, and promised he’d help you study after 5 or so rounds.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means everyone at school thinking you’re dating. even reo asked if you have feelings for him, and when you insistently said no, he replied, “alright, alright..! just trying to make sure nagi doesn’t end up hurt.” so that nagi doesn’t end up hurt? what does that even mean?

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means starting volleyball together. you always meant to pick up a sport sooner or later, but you were too old. it’ll be embarrassing to pick one up this late! you told nagi about this, and he said, “i mean… it’s a lot less running than in football, so maybe i’ll try it out with you?”

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him watching your favorite anime for you. nagi always said that it wasn’t his type of show, you never really expected him to actually watch it. but one day you get a message— “finished s1, but i cant find s2… not on netflix? :x” from then on, he practically enabled you to keep ranting about the show, and he even got a little shocked when you had told him a fake spoiler.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him insisting to pay him back, but not actually doing anything about it. occasionally, when nagi isn’t too tired, the two of you meet up for breakfast in the morning. he lives closer to school, so he usually always gets there earlier. you always ask him to buy your order and he agrees, only on the condition you pay him back. you always pay him back with baked goods, and he always eats them up. and, he still insists he wants his cash back! you’ve given him cookies and brownies worth more than 3 orders of pancakes, you’re starting to wonder if he just likes your baking.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means hanging out after school. nagi trains a lot. he has to, apparently, in order to become the best striker in the world. but, it doesn’t mean he likes it. if he had it his way, he’d walk to the mall with you and share a cup noodle everyday after school. he’d love to just sit around the convenience store with you for forever— or at least until he wanted to go home. but unfortunately, that time is only limited to an hour before club training starts.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means telling him about all the people you don’t like. nagi’s a pacifist. he likes to think that he’s a very peaceful and chill guy. there isn’t many people he actually hates. but apparently, you do. you tell him almost every week about at least one person who did you wrong, or a guy who keeps harassing you— it almost makes nagi think, ‘is it actually possible for one person to get harassed this much?’. nonetheless, he still listens and internally rolls his eyes when he sees one of the people you’ve mentioned.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him ditching his hang out to go with you. blue lock just won against the japan U20 team. no one thought they could make it. and as a reward, anri decided that they deserve some free time to themselves in the outside world. isagi had invited nagi, chigiri, bachira, and some others to hang out with him. but because he overslept, he just decided not to go… instead he went to your house. “hey, let’s go to an arcade today?” he asked. the two of you headed into your favorite arcade somewhere in shibuya and since he was so near the café he was gonna originally meet isagi at, he did intend to say hi… but that plan sort of went out the window.

“nagi… let me win for once, would ya?” you grumbled. “but, i’ve already got 15 wins, i don’t wanna lose…” he hums in return. and when he finally K.O.’s your character, you hear a loud gruff voice.

“hey, you pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” it calls out. and by the disgruntled look on his face, it seems nagi already knows who it is. “yer gonna lose yer friends, ya jerk!” the voice suddenly runs in behind nagi and grabs him by the neck. you recognize that face, it was the #6 of last night’s game! “caught him red-handed!” reo laughs.

you’re suddenly a bit shy surrounded by all these new people, not to mention the fact that they’re basically mini-celebrities. “oh? who’s this one you’re hanging out with?” the boy in the beanie asks, walking up to you. you’re suddenly intimidated by the aura that surrounds him. “…wanna see some ninja arts?” he asks.

you’re tempted to say yes, you’ve never seen a ninja before. the choice is taken though when that aforementioned #6 and a boy with pink hair in an updo bun (he looks like a girl, but you’re sure he’s a guy since he was in last night’s game…) yell at him. “don’t go doin’ yer stupid seducing tricks, moron!”

ignoring all of that, nagi finally answered, “…this is s/o, my friend.” isagi nods, and reo almost looks like he wants to scoff at the title, ‘friend’. “so you ditched isagi to hang out with s/o? way to choose your priorities, nagi..!” reo laughs. “well, i haven’t seen s/o in weeks… and i’ve been seeing all of you too much…” he mumbles.

most of them look rightfully offended, most especially isagi, the boy with pink hair, and another boy with a brown and yellow bob cut. the three of them drag nagi over to the dart board as the boy with the bob hums, “let’s party! nya haaa! ♪”

reo grins and encourages you to follow the group, “c’mon, let’s hang! i know nagi especially will be really glad to have you along!” nagi would be glad? …pushing those thoughts aside, you agree to join them. “yeah… sure, i’ll join.”

[no-144444]

mistakes- l.norris

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pairing: Lando Norris x publicist! fem! reader

summary: the aftermath of the Hungarian gp

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He wanted to scream. At Oscar, at the team, at everyone. It wasn’t fair. Fair and fucking square he was supposed to be in first. He was closest to Max in the championship. It made fucking sense, and Oscar wasn’t going to catch up, so Lando was McLaren’s only chance at a world championship. Fuck their strategy, fuck being a ‘team player’, fuck all that shit. It wasn’t fair.

And then there was you. Had he been harsh on the radio? Yes. Did you now have to clean up his mess? Yes. Was he scared to face you? Yes. But only because he knew what you’d be doing, and that you’d be too busy to be with him. Thus the joys of secretly dating your publicist.

He walked into his drivers room and found you on his bed, laptop on your lap as you answered call after call. You didn’t even spare him a glance. Fuck that. He was mad, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be alone right now. He changed and showered, then left you to work while he went out and ‘celebrated’ Oscar’s win.

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At about 2am Lily called you.

“Hi Y/n,” she sighed, the loud music making her difficult to hear.

“What club?” You sighed.

“I’ll send you my location now,” she hesitated. “Lando’s not that drunk, he’s just… sad. He’s been begging me to call you for ages, and I was holding off because I knew you’d be working all night today and-“

“It’s fine, I’m getting in my car now.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

And with that you hung up the phone. You closed your overheated laptop and grabbed your keys. The hospitality was dead at this time and all you could think about was the race. You were angry at the team, happy for Oscar, and annoyed at Lando. He hadn’t even come in to see you after, he’d given you a week's worth of work in one race, and you had no idea how to feel about what had happened today.

You pulled up outside the club and found Lando outside with Oscar. You ran over when you saw him sitting down, wondering if he was completely drunk.

“Where’s Y/n?” He mumbled to Oscar, tears in his eyes. The fans around were screaming their names as they waited for a photo, or even a glimpse of the drivers.

“I’m here,” you kneeled down beside him, taking his hand. “I’m right here.”

“Y/n,” he just stared at you as you looked over him. He looked awful. “You’re here.”

“Let’s go home, ok?”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he begged.

You squeezed his hand, if you two were alone you would’ve hugged him and kissed all over his face, promising that you weren’t, but alas, you were all too aware of the hundreds of eyes on you. “I’m not mad at you.”

He groaned. Yeah, he was at least a little drunk. “But you’re not kissing me, you’re mad.”

“I’m going to leave you to it,” Oscar tried to hold back a laugh, but failed and decided he wouldn’t be much help anymore. “Good luck.”

You waved him off and sighed. “Lan, come on. I’ll kiss you at home,” you promised.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you smiled, then tried to stand up but, Lando being Lando, he pulled you down and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart stopped, and not in the usual way it did when he kissed you. The screams of the fans were drowned out by the beating in your ears.

He pulled back. “I love you. A lot.”

Fuck off. Not right now. No. He was not saying that for the first time now. That wasn’t fair.

“Lan please-“

“You don’t love me?”

Your breathing picked up, you felt sick. “Please can we just get to the car Lando?”

“Say it back!” He pleaded. “Please baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sighed. “Now please can we go to the car?”

He nodded, a goofy smile on his face.

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When Lando woke up the next morning you were at the desk in his room, laptop open in front of you.

“Morning,” he said. You didn’t answer. He got up, noticing how you’d changed his clothes and mentally reminded himself to thank you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t answer again.

“Baby?” He turned his head and looked at you. Shit.

You were crying, staring at the awful things people were saying about you two online.

Shes so ugly. How can he date her? She’s so boring. She doesn’t even go out and celebrate with the team? She’s such a stuck up bitch.

“Stop looking at that,” he closed your laptop and held you closer. “They don’t know you.”

You nodded, leaning into his body. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I wanted to talk to you about it-“

He scoffed. “You didn’t even say hello when I came in.”

“What?” You turned to him, wiping your eyes. “I didn’t hear you. I had my AirPods in.”

“Oh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Shit.”

“And I didn’t exactly have time after the race yesterday to look up from my laptop, not after the shitstorm you caused,” you sighed, knowing you were being too harsh. “Sorry. I know yesterday was shit for you.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry too. I’m sure I did something fucking stupid last night.”

You chuckled. “You kissed me in front of everyone and told me you loved me.”

His body tensed. He took a deep breath. “Wow.”

“How do you think I felt?” You chuckled. “We’re going to have to answer so many fucking questions at work.”

He paused for a moment. “What did you say back?”

“I told you the truth,” you sighed, getting up. “I love you.”

He stared at you for a moment. “I love you too,” he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. The tension and anxiety you felt dissipated as he held you closer. Yes, you were still stressed and upset, but Lando loved you.

You pulled away. “We need to talk about our strategy to explain what happened yesterday-“

“Please just stop talking and let me kiss you,” he pressed his lips to your again.

You’d talk about it all later.

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navigation for my blog :)

[trustmypoison]

SVT when a sasaeng harasses you

Requested: Yes!

Request: ‘hey there! jgh from work and thought of a scenario, i was thinking about what svt's reaction when they heard that a sasaeng attacked you while their at work (non-idol!gf x svt)’

A/N: I’m not totally comfortable with the concept of violence here, so I switched this to be about harassment by a sasaeng instead. I certainly don’t condone that either, but it allowed me to be more delicate about the issue with this. To the requester, I hope you still enjoy. 

Out for blood - Seungcheol, Woozi, Minghao, Seungkwan

Guard dog mode is activated the moment you tell him about an interaction that you had at work. These guys are so viciously protective that once he knows you’re safe, he’s making multiple calls or just straight up showing up to make some demands. He’s all but threatening to quit if his company doesn’t get a handle on this and back him up, and he won’t hesitate to breathe down your management team’s necks to address the concerns with a swiftness because harassment of any kind shouldn’t have happened. Period. I think if this becomes a repeated issue, they might even make a statement themself, regardless of what their company thinks. He does not play for a single second when it comes to your health and safety. 

Requires certain protections moving forward - Jun, Wonwoo, Chan

Will have a slightly calmer approach from the last group. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still making all the same calls and having the same meetings, but he’ll be much more strategic about it. He’s level-headed about demanding for more security at your work or at the very least for you to not work alone at any point so someone else can step in and help you if necessary. Until things cool down, you also will not be able to convince him that you don’t need a body guard to and from work or anywhere else you want to go. Don’t be surprised if you also come home to find a shiny new security system, just in case it ever becomes a problem outside of work. Also doesn’t play when it comes to your health or safety, but he’ll respond in a steadier fashion than the previous group. 

Just flat out asks you to quit your job - Jeonghan, Mingyu, Vernon

I see them encouraging you to not work or at least not work there anymore, since it’s been determined that it’s not safe. He’s not confident that his company or your place of work will effectively deal with this situation, though he’ll still make demands, and at the end of the day they’d rather just remove you from the situation entirely. They’ll absolutely respect if you want to keep working, either for financial independence or if you just really enjoy your career. But they won’t let you stress over finances or the job you have if being there might mean sacrificing your safety and security. 

High key feels guilty - Joshua, Hoshi, DK

Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’ll do all of the above in some capacity, and he does not want to make it about himself under any circumstances. But he’ll have a hard time dealing with the guilt about the fact that he’s the reason you’re in this predicament in the first place. I don’t see any of them cutting things off with you without talking for a long time with you about it to decide if that’s really for the best. Ultimately, I think all three of these guys would just need some assurance that this kind of trouble is worth it to be with him. He still might come away being a little bitter about how his career doesn’t afford him the same privacy as others.