#because you did it!! and it isn't the end! it's just the beginning!!! again!

[sylusjinxedpaw]

A Rafayel's draft

Just something that I wrote but won't make a whole fic out of it. Was going to keep it as personal — because it is — but decided to share.

"Raf, have you ever wished that you could have the power to stop a situation in the past that really changed your present and future?"

"Huh?"

"Because I do."

"What are you talking about? We're just gazing to the sea together. I know I know... Humans always say that the sea makes them feel so many emotions by just seeing it, but that's not the sea's fault you know? It actually-"

"I wish I didn't took that step. I wish that I didn't chose to hate the way I am at that time to the point of chasing something so desperately that it destroyed myself."

"..."

"I'm still picking up the pieces, you know? And there's so many... It's ridiculous how much it broke me, and sometimes when I'm trying to pierce one with the rest I end up cutting myself in the process. And then I drop it. And it is on the floor again, and I'm so afraid of getting hurt again that I do not pick it up again, so it stays in the floor, again."

"Cutie... I'm trying to understand but I can't comprehend why are you talking about that right-"

"However, I still try to pierce what once was myself, but you can repair a porcelain vase without all the pieces. Even if you don't like some of them. It will eventually crumble, or look deformed with the holes that were left on their own. And I don't know how to deal with that. It is natural for me — or at least for my body — to run away from the pain, even if I consciously know that for me to let go and rebuild myself I have to feel it.

But I find myself so horrified at it that my body kicks me out and takes control."

"Maybe your problem is that you haven't found something to put that pain in, something that would help you take it out of your body."

"Like your paintings?"

"Aren't you smart? Yes my sea angel, my art is the way I take it out."

"But does it help you process it? Once is poured onto the canvas, does it really give you a push to move on and get rid of it forever?"

"... I think the pain from our actions never really fades in its entirety. I wish it would, but it isn't like that. Especially with decisions that made a before and an after in your life."

"So... Do you have any situation in the past like that?"

"You could say that, yeah..."

"And how did you manage it?"

"I... Learned how to live with it. Taught myself how to not drown when the tides are strong enough, and instead of succumbing to it, I just float in the surface."

"... It never ends, huh?"

"No cutie, it never ends. But the ache doesn't keep the same intensity as in the beginning. Eventually, it fades a little, like the color of a very old painting. And instead of being a bright blue, it becomes gray, giving space to other experiences that overshadow and paint over what happened with other bright and new colors"

"That would be so... I feel like mine will never fade. It will stay the same, and my grief will not retire. The desire of taking my heart out of my chest is so intense sometimes, that I fear it is so damaged and tired it will give up eventually."

"I don't want the big heart I got, Rafa. I hate it. It doesn't belong here."

"It will fade. Your wound is just recent, that's why you think of it in that way. I did felt the same way at the time, but even if it takes a looooong time, you will see that I don't lie with this.

Eventually, the pain that you feel will not be the center of your life as it is now."

"And what did became the center of your life now that it made the pain retire from your chest?"

"Love. Love for art, love for what's left from what I lost, love that comes from other people that I care.... Just love. Love is as powerful as pain."

"My wound comes from love... I think you would not understand."

"Mine comes from love, too. But that's not all there is to it. Poets and writers don't lie when they say that love has many faces, you know? I have seen many of them. Even if it is unbelievable, another face of love amended the damage the first one made."

"Perhaps one day I will see with my own eyes what you say..."

"Perhaps..."

"But please... Don't ever say that you hate your heart, and that it doesn't belong here. It does. And I would gladly cherish it and make it mine, if you let me.

With me, your heart is safe. No harm with come from my hands."

[cementcornfield]

can't stop watching that video with the new angle and the way ja'marr lets out a breath after letting go of joe and kind of tilts his head looking at joe saying long way in such a fond thoughtful tone.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal

Sleep like the Dead (Inherited): Nothing wakes you anymore. Leona is as "selfish" as they come, and has no regard for your schedule. He doesn't feel remorse for soaking up your time in the slightest. Why should he? Other people do it for 90% of the day. Take a load off, the bags under your eyes are unsightly. If he doesn't want to wake up in the morning? You ain't either. It's a done deal. If the building isn't up in flames then don't bother asking. Evidently, prolonged and frequent daytime siestas take their toll on your circadian rhythm. You now need just as - if not more - sleep than Leona. Napping out in public and at the rowdy Savanaclaw Dorm bestowed upon you a disturbance immunity. Ramshackle could be in the middle of a raid and you wouldn't move. Not unless something singed your skin or really did some damage. It's become an actual problem. Crewel is considering a sleep study.

"Oi, herbivore...stop squirming so much. You almost crushed my tail. Hah? Class? You don't need it. Just borrow notes from one of those little friends or make the cat go....fine. Gimmie your homework later. I can teach you a thing or two. That is, if you can handle it." <- Grim can't be trusted on his own? Not Leona's problem. You're half of a student. Half. Not full. Half. There's your loophole now go back to sleep. Yap any more and he'll roll on top of you. Good luck talking with a mouth full of hair.

Perfume (Developed): This comes about in an awkward manner. Beastmen have keen smell. It's a given. Bada bing, bada boom, Leona knows your scent. He could point out the Ramshackle Prefect from a half-mile radius. Now he's never said your scent is unpleasant. Quite the contrary, although the lion would never admit it. The issue here is that your scent acts as a calling card, and Leona is clingy. So you ask Vil for the most popular perfume, potion, cologne - whatever - and start wearing it to mask your scent. At least enough so Leona's de-buffed to a one-fourth mile radius. It doesn't work entirely. No perfume is that strong. It's also an active assault on Leona's nose...but it had to be done. Side note - this was his plan all along. He isn't keen on non-human folk sniffing you out easily. Beastmen, most Mermen, and even select Fae have keen noses. Not that his own scent isn't a deterrent, but some masking perfume is worth the occasional nose-shank if it keeps snickering busybodies off your tail when he isn't around.

"Here. Take this and throw out whatever crap it is you've got on. You want me to say it flat? You reek." <- Take the scent masking balm he's giving and don't shop retail ever again. His nose hairs are literally burning off. The balm costs more than your entire dorm to make, but Leona won't ever admit it. You have an ultimatum. It's either this, or wearing one of his old vests around Savanaclaw. Now unless you want to be twinning with him and Ruggie, do the man a favor and comply.

Hair Ties (Developed): Bless his genetics for that wonderful, silky mane - but he needs to tame it. With how smothering Leona can be, you end up with a mouthful of hair at least twice a day. Man is tall, and he loves using his prefect as a leaning post. Which is cute but he sheds. So your arm is perpetually wrapped with hair-ties 24/7 like a cased sausage, because every time you give him one it disappears. It's on purpose, of course. He also snaps them whenever you aren't paying attention. Spiteful bas-

Biting (Inherited): Biting is a common display of affection in beastfolk culture. Not that Leona ever bothered to tell you this. His little nips (in no small amount) were usually passed off as punishments for being annoying. A lie, naturally. One could say it’s the human equivalent of cute aggression? Yet it has more meaning since it’s reserved for close connections such as family and lover. Although drawing blood or leaving a mark behind is reserved for the latter. You had to learn all this from a textbook, of course. No one in Savanaclaw was going to butt into Leona’s affairs, and Ruggie found your ignorance a funny game to taunt his Housewarden with. You were on your own, on a quest to save your skin. Literally.

Regardless, it’s Leona’s way of affection. Bonus points since he can do it without you knowing why. It’s only natural that you return the favor, playing along whenever he has to hold composure. Acting as if you don’t know and relishing in his micro- reactions. It’s only a matter of time before he figures you out, but it’s so nice to have the upper hand for once.

"That's for showin' up late. Don't like it? Not my problem...yawn if is' so bad, just take my bandanna...Why do you care if it's got Savana colors? Ya spend enough time 'round here, no one's gonna say anything." <- If it really bothered you, he'd stop. King of consent and of reading body language. Otherwise it's a go-go. Also if someone did have a problem with you sporting Savanaclaw colors? He doesn't need to kick their ass. Beastfolk got better hearing than most, and if one of his overhears you getting shit for wearing their dorm's colors then the classic night raven pride will pop out.

Habits He Steals:

Vegetables (Inherited): Leona sticks to meat, cheese, bread, and more meat. Bring on the steak. Bring on the beef. Bring on the deluxe cutlet sandwiches. Savanaclaw's kitchen is the most costly of all the dorms purely for how much Beastmen eat. If Ruggie can guzzle down seven plates in a sitting yet still look like a stick? Imagine a Lion's appetite. No one knows how you managed to get this guy to eat a salad like a true herbivore, but it's a cold day in the Savanaclaw dormitory when Leona's facing down a spinach side-salad on top of his lunch. Meanwhile you're happily munching away at the table, picking random veggies off your own plate to put on his. Each instance accompanied by an agitated twitch of his tale, but the lion's eerily silent. Dire Crowley is right. The Ramshackle Prefect is a Beast Tamer indeed...

"Now I know you didn't just pick at my plate, herbivore. Your luck's running thin...Oi. That's enough. I'll sooner eat one of your limbs than another turnip" <- he, in fact, did eat the turnip. The threat scared his underclassmen so much, that seeing you come around still in one piece the next day earned you a warrior's respect.

Correspondence (Developed): Leona's used to getting a sea of letters from ministers, attendants, and a particular little menace back at the palace. Unless it was an urgent message - he'd let the letters go unchecked after skimming them. Replying always took too much effort, and he'd rather not encourage unexpected visits like during the annual Magiift tournament. That is until you start receiving them as well. Nowhere near the amount Leona deals with - but he'd rather die than have his family telling you things without the ability to intercept. Falena blackmails him into responding to Cheka's letters, or else the little furball is going to use you as a penpal for writing practice. Side Note 2.0 - regardless of Leona's 'cooperative' ways, you still write to the mini lion in 'secret'. He knows but gave up caring.

"Another one? Just toss the damn thing. No - hmph. Give me that. I'll respond, just don't start up the lecture." <- You always manage to find the letters Cheka sends over before Leona can get to them. It clicks that you're a middle-man once they start showing up at Ramshackle instead of his dorm. Leona can't wait too long to respond, otherwise you'll start harping him over how cute the kid's handwriting is or whatever picture he drew. He lets you keep them. Cheka's got his own exhibit on the Ramshackle fridge.

Accommodating (Developed): Leona’s not necessarily a ‘verbal’ communicator, despite his smart mouth that always manages to get the last word. He will not openly lend his aid without a bit of pressing before hand - his pride would never allow it. Take the three days you and Grim stayed in his dorm as an example. Inevitably you earned the right to crash in his room, but there was a roundabout to get there. Mainly for show, since in Savanaclaw things are earned not given. You also weren’t close back then. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone, even if they’re from a different dorm or stranded homeless by some octopunks.

The tides change for you, and only for you. His morals are held high, and his ability to treat a partner well is no exception. There is no glory in being above your supposed equal. Everything is shared. This means Leona’s room is now your room, just as Ramshackle is now partly his. He’s clearing some of his closet out, filling it with your stuff, and doing the same back at your place. Doesn’t even ask and doesn’t give a damn that there are dozens of open rooms. It’s the principle. Sharing a space is letting someone see your most vulnerable being. Not that he’d think you could ever do any significant damage (lies) - but considering he doesn’t want anyone within a five foot radius during his leisure time, Leona giving you open access speaks volumes.

"Hah? So what? It's not like I'm forcin' them into it. Got a problem with how I act? Enlighten me." == Talk about nonchalont. Leona is well aware of the imprint he's left on you. He sees it in the way you talk. The way you think. Not just in the chess matches he makes you sit through over and over. Round after round until you can put him into check. You're confident. You're demanding. You're ripe potential that he got to first before anyone else. You chose him, and no amount of backtalk on your end outshines that you like him enough to mimic his ways. The Ramshackle Prefect’s presence isn't something people can overlook anymore, and Leona is damn proud that he's left a mark.

Habits You Steal:

Extreme Couponing/Haggling (Inherited): If you do not think Ruggie spends his Sunday mornings going through sales ads? You are sorely mistaken. This man is an absolute menace when it comes to hitting the market and squeezing a shop-keep for everything they are worth. Sam fears no creature in all of Twisted Wonderland aside from this particular hyena. Screw fighting blot - grab some popcorn and kick back to observe the game of verbal chess those two engage in every week. It's more entertaining than any battle or show. You will become Ruggie's apprentice. Ain't no partner of his going through life without the ability to haggle. Sam stands no chance.

“Ya get this week’s ad? Good. C’mon over and we’ll get the clippings going. I think I saw somethin’ about a buy-one get-two on those candies ya like. Maybe if your nice enough, I’ll shmooze Sam for a bonus!” <- Ruggie honestly enjoys having a coupon buddy. He makes a show about how you take too long, and that if you don’t wake up early then he won’t stick around! Can’t miss the sale, so he isn’t lying there. Except he does grab what you need on the off chance you do miss the meetup. Side note - he doesn’t just take an apprentice without ulterior motives. This is all in preparation for you to handle the slum markets. If you can’t fight off a few broke students, then you won’t last a day back home.

"Shishishishi" (Inherited): There is no escaping it. For the countless times you've poked fun at his little wheezy laugh - imagine the utter mortification when it came not from him! No no. From you. It's unconscious and in the moment you don't recognize anything wrong. You were only laughing over a won victory against Sam. That new lamp you wanted for your work-desk finally within reach, and 70% off no less! Said conman looks at you with eyes blown wide, because great seven there are two of them now. It takes a moment for self-awareness to hit, but you're too late. Two fuzzy-satellites atop a mop of shaggy blonde curls perk up, and your laugh from before echoes from the original culprit's mouth.

“I heard that! You’re doin’ it wrong. Gotta put more air, Shishishi~” <- Ruggie’s a taunting little turd on a good day. Be prepared. You won’t be living this down. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Next thing is to train ya in the art of sticky fingers - no? Ugh. Fine. Ya Goodie-Goodie.

Hands Up! (Inherited): Ruggie has a very unique way of standing. Hands behind his head, laced together to support his neck. One hip normally supports most of his weight, and he's always in a deep-slouch. Bro doesn’t need to cast ‘Laugh With Me’ for his movements to be mirrored, because you’re already following along without realizing. Leona finds the mimicry unsettling. Take that freaky shit out of his line of sight.

Habits He Steals:

Sharing Food (Developed): This is the inner hyena coming out. Just like in the slums, it's demanded to share amongst your own. He might be a sleaze to other people, but not to you. This also backfires into Ruggie thinking that what's yours is his as well - but that's not the point. He'll plop down next to you at dinner and wordlessly offer up half of his meal. You need more meat on those bones, he'll say if protested. In turn he'll then take half of your dessert. It's a sign of trust, instinctively believing that whatever's on your plate is safe to eat. Yet also shows that he's taken you as one of his - and that's a privilege no one at NRC has. No strings attached because everything you both have is shared. On a side note, you'll never be-rid of Ruggie once this comes to pass.

Shared Wardrobe (Developed): Again with the collective treasure hoard, but with a twist. Ruggie can essentially squeeze into most clothing or modify them to his needs. If it works, then it works. So he'll happily offer up any modified dregs he has for your usage, and in turn he will claim whatever clothes you aren't overly attached to. There is also the matter of scent, of course. Ruggie is the type of person to cut up one of your old pajama shirts and fashion arm-bands, making sure to have one knotted around his bicep at all times. You in turn are welcome to swipe his bandanna at your leisure in place of that tacky uniform tie.

“Hey…you seen my blaz - hah? Uh, nevermind. I’ll go grab somethin’ else. Where’d ya leave the heavier coat Gran sent over. Forget it, I’ll just go check myself” <- The first time you snag one of his oversized blazers or hoodies gets him. It gets him bad. Sharing with Leona was one thing but, c'mon. Warn a guy would ya? You're so lucky he's an opportunist on quick feet, so of course he’ll take the chance to steal something you wear often. Ruggie’s great at brushing off any taunts or quips. Being Leona’s right hand gets him stable back at Savanclaw, but that doesn’t take away years of being the underdog. Whether the other beastfolk stare at him openly brandishing your clothes means little, if anything, he enjoys it. Cause once again the underdog’s got a top prize.

Caffeine Addiction (Inherited): Ruggie spends more time and effort running around than most. His *hobby* is doing part-time work. Those overpriced sugar-loaded drinks never appealed to him because why waste money when powering through is just as effective? Or chugging some ice water? Yet you seemingly always have some sort of caffeine to make it through the hell NRC dishes out, and Ruggie being a mooch is always there to steal at least 1/3 of it. Now he’s trained and gets extremely sluggish around mid-day without a dose. It’s your fault if he falls off his broom during spelldrive practice.

"Wha'cha trying to say with that tone, huh? Think I'm not good enough? 's that it? There're way worse chumps to take after. Way I see it? They're learnin' how to make it in this world, sha ha ah! So thanks!...eh, why're you still here? Shoo already." == Considering rumors never have anything good to say about Ruggie's attitude, he's not dumb enough to take the little 'compliment' as genuine. More like as a backhanded sight towards your relationship. Rugs could care less about what those nobodies have to say. Not like they've got anything he's after, just some busybodies that scurry off with their tail between their legs when things get rough. Even if you catch word of it, Ruggie ain't going to get pissy because they're right. Everything they're saying is right, he is rubbing off on you. He is actively trying to. Life isn't a peach and it's not like he's strong enough to protect you from the hardships. It'll be a big laugh if you pull that righteous crap and try to defend his honor, though. Someone better get it on camera.

Habits You Steal:

Paternal Disappointment (Inherited): There was a time, a simpler time, a Jack-less time...when you were a fool. No. You are one to this day, but it is better tamed under Jack's strict aura of perpetual disappointment. Once on the side of being scolded with Ace and Deuce, you are now the one doing the scolding. You are not fun anymore. There is a stick shoved so far up your ass, and it's now part of your internal organ system. Ace dubs you a traitor, as does Grim. You've gone to the dark side in exchange for the morally sound wolfboy to offer cuddles and the occasional snack. I'm sorry to tell you this dear prefect but you've become....*gasp* the (mom/dad) friend.

“Boring? Who said you were boring?…don’t listen to those jerks. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. They’re just upset that they can’t get away with murder anymore - Uh, not t-that I was jealous or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! . Hmph.” <- Jack doesn’t take offense when others call him names, but he doesn’t like when you’re brought into it. At all. Especially because he used to be jealous how you, Ace, Grim and Deuce were more tight-knit than with any of the other first years. Like a pack. That behavior is childish, and Jack hates that he used to think that way. As if your attention was something he had to fight over. It's not like he wanted the same bond you shared with those three either, that's friendship and he wanted more. By being with you, Jack knew that it was going to put him on a different tier than the others. That's just what happens. Part of him feels guilty that you might be losing face because of him. His reputation isn’t bad, but he does have a resting angry face. Reassure him in turn and Jack will be over the moon. Any happier and his wagging tail can become a makeshift duster for the dorm (Were he on earth, he’d definitely get the nickname ‘tails’. After the sonic character, just to clarify)

Meal Prep (Inherited): This is actually an amazing influence and is wonderful for someone on a tight-schedule. You're not going to be eating high-protein meals every night, neither wasting away in an attempt to chug down pre-workout shakes. That's on Jack and Jack alone. Helping him prep meals is a nice touch and a pleasant evening spent together once a week. You don't become strict with it, but Jack does convince you to at least prepare some of your favorite dishes as snacks/emergency meals. He also constantly shoves energy water and vitamins in your bag. No more cup-noodle or scrap sandwiches on those nights you don't reach the mess hall on time. Now you have balanced meals, and get to flaunt matching containers with your boyfriend. Very cute. Everyone hates both of you.

"Uh...are all those stickers really necessary? I know we agreed on matching boxes but this is a bit...No! I'm not embarrassed! Gah, just keep it to a minimum. Nothing that falls off or sparkles." <- He is flustered beyond compare after every track meet. At first he barely bat an eye, thinking nothing of the orange bento box with chibi-cactus stickers and his name written in bold bubble lettering on top. You decorated it just for him, and if it meant you would carry around a spare meal then that's even more incentive. Yet the smell of fresh food attracts jocks after a meet like nothing else, and the teasing was relentless. It isn't enough to stop him from enjoying his meal, though.

Lint Roller (Developed): Leona sheds, but Jack? He is like owning six full-grown huskies. He apologizes profusely for the shedding, especially since the NRC uniforms are black. You run through lint rollers like Deuce runs through eggs. It isn't Jack's fault, but man. Ramshackle collects both dust and fur bunnies these days.

Habits He Steals:

Piggy-Back(Developed):Jack carries you everywhere. He's normally very patient but when there's a place to be? Well, he wants to get there on time. Jack has a strict bedtime at 10:00pm sharp and so his free hours are scarce. Do you want enough time to enjoy the lakeside as planned? If so, hop on his back so no time is wasted. Jack also pressures you to join him for morning and evening jogs. He refuses to give up his diligence, but also is acutely aware that there is little spare time he can afford you during the week. Either you have to keep up with him, or you're getting used as a makeshift weight and being hauled across campus. Relationships need quality time to grow and this is the perfect excuse to hog your attention for two hours every day. Not that he'd admit it, but the swish of his tail while you chat is enough to tell Jack's enjoying his runs much more than before.

"Are you comfortable? Just let me know if I'm going too quick. I'll try not to jostle you around too much...if you're tired then take a nap. I'll wake you when we're back home." <- He'd prefer if you didn't sleep. It messes with your circadian rhythm, but the whole point of this is to help you relax. Just knowing you're with him is enough to make Jack happy. Rain or shine, no excuses. If it's cold he'll let you use his hair to block out the chill, although he'd never let you out in anything less than the proper gear. Even if he joins Deuce or Vil on occasion - you're his favorite running partner.

Safety (Developed): Jack asks you to text him twice a day. Once in-between class, even though you’ll be spending lunch together, and once before bed at 9:30pm. The morning isn’t needed since he’s your alarm clock. He understands that as a prefect, you don’t have a curfew like the majority of students. Yet he is communicative with concerns about you being outside of Ramshackle late after dark. Even when you were just friends, hearing the story of when A-Deuce hauled you to that abandoned mine in the middle of the night? The blot monster and how close it came to you guys not making it? Magic or not, that would worry anyone with common sense. It doesn’t help that Ramshackle has no security beyond its resident ghosts.

"- and you just went with them? Because the headmaster told you to? Are you insane!?...No. You're right. What's done is done. Just...call me if something like that ever happens again." <- Thank the seven Jack's hair is already white.

Jack never thought he’d care this much about anyone. When your partner is a walking heart-attack, in the best way possible mind you, one just wants some piece of mind.

Covering Ears (Inherited): It's a natural response to cover your ears when frightened. Like when watching a scary movie and you don't want to hear what comes next. Jack covers his ears because they're sensitive, and loud noises can cause a migraine quicker than anything else. Especially when they're sudden. His hearing is more sensitive than most, being a wolf beastman. It's almost on par with Leona's. Yet his first instinct when there is a loud noise is to cover your ears instead of his. Even though you're human, the instinct to protect them takes over. It's also his way of being within arm's reach in case of a threat. You must be scared being in a new place. Jack will never let himself forget that. Nor how brave you are for continuing on regardless.

"What a relief...huh? Nah, I didn't say anything. Isn't there a test coming up in Alchemy next week? Want to hit the books together?" == The type to divert the topic as quick as possible, on the chance that he lets too much slip. Needless to say that Jack is relieved to hear that you're mimicking him on an unconscious level. It means that you trust him. That you respect him and see him as an equal. It's the biggest compliment Jack can ever ask for. If people are automatically associating you together, then it means he's done his job. You're part of his pack - and outsiders can recognize it at first glance. He'll do a good job at hiding how happy it made him, but expect that tail to wag at torpedo speed the next time he sees you.

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

------------

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

---------------------------

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[jinxvex]

could u perhaps do casual dominance hcs w sevika..? :3

♱ casual dominance w/ gf!sevika headcanons!! ♱

i've been mf WAITING for this one!! it's time to get down to the biz folks... 🙈😏🤫

cw: sfw & kinda nsfw towards the end!, possessiveness, manhandling, dumbification??, curse words, touching, suggestive themes!

♱ sevika is, without a doubt, the dominant one in the relationship. that's not to say a woman can't be versatile! it's just what she prefers. the dynamic between you two is not only what makes things work well in your relationship, it makes you perfect for each other.

♱ she doesn't mind a few swear words from you here and there, but she is on it if you're beginning to pick up the habit of using them. she doesn't like her sweet girl using such filthy language! unless she's fucking it out of you. a simple "fuck! god damn it!" when you drop something has her going, "hey, watch your mouth." or "language, baby. where's my sweet girl at?"

♱ i mentioned this in another post, but she's the driver! that hand would be on your thigh, squeezing as the other rests on the steering wheel—just to let you know she's still thinking of you as you two quietly listen to music. you enjoy each other's company that way.

♱ sevika does not tolerate attitude from you. whew, girl! you'd be in for a treat if you rolled your eyes at her or gave her lip because you happened to be in one of your moods. she isn't afraid to scold you. she absolutely grabs your chin to force you to look her in the eye, "who do you think you're talking to, huh?" + "nuh-uh, baby. no."

♱ she literally picks you up by your waist to move you wherever she wants you to go (AHHH). + (think when loris was bringing vi back to her apartment when she was drunk and emo but in a hot wlw way).

♱ sevika LOVES to rub the front of your thighs when you sit on her lap, whether that be when she's gambling or at home. she doesn't even let you try and get up, you're stuck there for hours!

♱ sevika enjoys turning your brain to mush; she loves watching your eyes gloss over as she talks down to you and tells you what to do. she knows you'd do anything to be her good girl.

"hey, go hand me my cards, baby." she demands gently as you two get up from the couch, ready to venture to the last drop. she pats your ass softly before you nod and briskly rush over to where her cards rest on the kitchen table. when you return, you drop the cards into her large mech hand. your eyes peer deep into hers for confirmation that you did good. she leans in for a kiss, a kiss that deepens and lasts. as you kiss passionately, her human hand snakes up to your neck and presses down firmly before pulling away, "that's a good girl." + "mm thank you, baby. what would i do without my woman?" she smirks against your open mouth.

♱ if anyone is staring at you in public/trying to flirt with you, TRUST she's pulling you in for the sexiest, NASTIEST kiss and sticking her tongue down your throat (IN FRONT OF THEM). she makes out with you as she glares into their eyes from across the room! her eyes would be screaming, "she's mine, and if you ever look at her again, you're dead."

(i would LIKE to say she orders for both of you at a restaurant, but you'd definitely be the one going all, "yes! thank you! and she'll have the chicken salad with toasted croutons!" as she sticks her face into the menu LMAOFOOO.)

♱ for some reason, sevika does not let you pay. ever! she loves being able to take care of you—to provide for you.

"i got it this time, gorgeous." you huff and turn towards her, "you pay every time, vika!" you exclaim as she pulls you in closer to whisper into your ear, "let me take care of you, hmm?" + "just wanna give my girl the world. can i do that for you?"

♱ oh! and if you try to run when she's fucking you from behind, she IS placing her hand at the small of your back to keep you still so you can take everything she gives you! she goes, “mhm, take it. don’t run.” + “you need this, slut.” that's all!

needless to say, she loves you real bad!! 🫣

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Under the Mistletoe 2

SUMMARY: You told your classmates about Christmas and the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. But what if it's someone else helping you get a kiss from your crush? Or your crush trying to get a kiss from you? Or even prevent you from kissing someone else?

CHARACTERS: Scarabia (Kalim; Jamil); Pomefiore (Vil; Epel; Rook); Ignihyde (Idia + Ortho) & Diasomnia (Malleus; Silver; Sebek; Lilia)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kissing

WORD COUNT: An average of 390 words per character.

COMMENTS: As I believe some characters would be more direct and others would try to beat around the bush some have more words than others for this reason.

The Ignihyde part is the longest because it's Idia and Ortho together. With Ortho is platonic of course, he just gives you a present, Idia is the one under the mistletoe.

I hope you all enjoy and have a Merry Christmas. 🎁

Under the Mistletoe 1 - Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

CONTEXT: As the end of the year approaches and the snow begins to fall, you comment to your schoolmates that it is reminding you of a holiday that exists in your world called Christmas. They get curious and ask you more about it, you talk about the gifts, the tree, getting the family together, etc.

Until Cater asks if there wouldn't be any romantic traditions on such a cute holiday, and the first thing that comes to your mind is the tradition of two people having to kiss if they both happen to be under a mistletoe or holly.

You even say that there are people who purposely place mistletoe in a strategic spot to attract the person they want to kiss and pretend it was an accident. A very popular Christmas romance troupe.

Cater was the one who told Kalim what you said about Christmas, and consequently about the mistletoe tradition. But that wasn't what he was thinking about the time he went to visit you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“HEY [Y/N]!” He greets you with his radiant smile. “Happy... um... what was the name of that holiday you told Cater about again?”

You say it's called Christmas and the greeting is ‘Merry Christmas’.

“Merry Christmas! Wait, I don't know if it's today... It isn’t? Then let me know when it is so I can wish you one, okay? Cater told me you felt a little homesick when you remembered that holiday and about the tradition of exchanging gifts. So I wanted to give you one to cheer you up.”

He hands you a present wrapped in shiny paper. You thank him and accept, but say you don't have a gift for him.

“Oh, don't worry about that. Seeing you smile is already the best gift you can give me.”

You open the gift, it's a turquoise cardigan with white jasmine flowers.

“It is of great quality and excellent for keeping you warm. That's what Jamil said. He helped me choose a gift for you and said the best one would be something that would help you during these cold days. Did you like it?”

You say that you did and show that by trying it right away.

“It looks so good on you! And makes you look even cuter than usual.” He smiles innocently.

You two hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

“Mistletoe? Cater had mentioned something about this but I don't remember what it was about. It's another tradition of your holiday, isn't it? What does it mean?”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. He smiles widely and blushes a little.

“I don't mind kissing you at all! I mean... I would even like to. If you want to do it too of course.”

You confirm and you move closer to each other. You will be able to feel his smile during the kiss.

Ace was the one who told Jamil about the things you said about Christmas, at the last basketball club meeting before winter break. He took advantage of the first opportunity he had to go to Ramshackle Dorm while Kalim was at the Pop Music Club.

“Hello, [Y/N].” Jamil greets you when you open the door. “I heard about the holiday you have in your world this time of year and that you were feeling a little homesick. How are you today?”

You say you're fine, just homesick about some things.

“I see. Ace told me that one of your holiday traditions was exchanging gifts. Is that correct?” You confirm. “I'm glad, because I got one for you.” He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a nicely wrapped present. “Don't worry about getting one for me. My only intention is to cheer you up a little.”

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, suspicious. He chuckles and then smirks

“Okay, maybe that's not really the only intention. But please open it and see if you like it.”

You thank him and open the present, it's a burgundy and black hoodie exactly like the one Jamil wears under his school uniform blazer. You look at him and he's smiling smugly.

“You already told me that you liked my hoodie, so I thought you might like to have one like it. This one is also very warm for days like these. So, what did you think?”

You say you like it, slightly flustered and even comment that it's possible that people think you're actually wearing his hoodie.

“Oh, you're right. That hadn't even occurred to me.” He says, still with a smirk on his face. “By the way, you should start thinking about pruning the plants outside your dorm, some are already growing here at the door.” He points up and you see a mistletoe growing from the wall, which you are almost certain is not naturally possible.

“Wasn't mistletoe part of another tradition of yours? I'm pretty sure Ace mentioned something about it.”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe.

“Ah, yes, that was it. Well, if you want, I have no objection in participating in this tradition of yours.”

You show that you would also like to do it with him, you get closer to each other and he captures your lips.

Vil heard about what you said about Christmas from Rook, who had apparently been eavesdropping on your conversation. And obviously he being who he is would mention the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Vil greets you when you open the door. “I heard what you said about a holiday in your world that happens at this time of year. Now I understand why you seemed a little sad. Are you too homesick?”

You say you're fine, just homesick about some things.

“Perhaps if you fulfilled some of your traditions it will help make you feel better?” Vil suggests. “Rook told me about your tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. Is that correct?” You confirm. “In that case, I have a proposal for you, sweet potato.” He smirks. “If you manage to find a sprig of mistletoe and make us both meet under it, I will allow you to fulfill your tradition with a kiss of mine. Be aware that to receive any kiss from me you have to prove yourself, especially one on the lips. Show me how much you want one before I leave for home and I shall reward you with it.” He winks at you and leaves.

You still spend a lot of time looking for a mistletoe tree until you discover that there is one in the Botanical Garden. But it was only on the next day that you managed to run over there and pick a sprig of mistletoe with or without permission and then run to try to find Vil at Pomefiore.

You ask where Vil is and one of the students tells you he was in his room. You go over there, place the sprig of mistletoe on top of the door frame and knock. Vil is surprised to see you and smiles.

“Hello sweet potato. I was just about to leave to go home. Don't tell me you've given up on our little game?”

You smile and point up so he can see the sprig of mistletoe stuck to the door frame of his room. He looks at you angrily.

“And you still dare to defile the aesthetics of our dormitory, especially right outside my bedroom door?!” But then laughs heartily. “Ha ha ha, How daring! Or should I say cheeky? I see you're smiling. Did this little challenge cheer you up?”

Now you realize that entertaining you a little to cheer you up was his real plan.

“Well, you managed to complete the challenge. It's only fair that I reward you.” He holds your chin and kisses you masterfully.

Epel wasn't with you when you told the others about Christmas, but he asked Ace and Deuce if you were okay because he had been seeing you looking a little down. That's when they told him about your holiday, but they didn't mention the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Hi [Y/N].” Epel greets you with a cute smile. “I heard you were feeling a little down because you were homesick. Ace and Deuce told me about a holiday you have in your world at this time of year and that exchanging gifts is one of the traditions. Is it true?” You confirm and his smile becomes even more enthusiastic. “Heh heh. In that case, I've got you one.” He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a present.

You thank him and accept the gift but say you don't have any for him.

“Don't worry about that. I just wanted to cheer you up, you don't have to give me anything. Go on, open it! I'm sure you'll love it.”

You open the present, it's a lavender knitted poncho with an apple pattern.

“I have to admit something.” He tells you a little embarrassed. “The truth is that this poncho was mine, it was made by my Meemaw. Since it is winter I wanted to give you something from Harveston, but there was no time to ask my family to send something. So I decided to give you something of my own. I’m sure that Meemaw would be happy to know that if I gave this poncho to anyone it was to you. Don't worry, I have many more. Do you like it?”

You say you like it and he says he's glad. Then the two of you hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe. Epel asks you if you know why they are doing that and you tell him about the tradition of the kiss under the mistletoe. He immediately blushes!

“K-K-KISS?! Why are they doing this to us then?” He sees you getting slightly flustered. “Wait... you...” He takes a deep breath to gain confidence. “If you want to follow your tradition, I... I don't mind.”

You move closer to him and close your eyes. It takes him a moment to gain enough courage to kiss you.

Rook overheard your conversation with Ace, Deuce and others, and he was immediately smitten by such a heartwarming holiday. And even more interested he became when you told Cater about the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. A delightful opportunity! That same day he knocks on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Bonjour, Trickster!” Rook greets you at the height of his good mood. “It came to my ears that you were feeling homesick due to a holiday that you have in your world at this time of year that we don't have in Twisted Wonderland. I heard about some of the traditions you talked about and I thought it was merveilleux! I am eager to know more about this Christmas holiday. Would you be so kind as to grant me a conversation on the subject?”

You say you don't mind or even that you'd love to and invite him in. The two of you talk for so long that you end up telling him practically everything you know about Christmas. So much so that it's only when Rook sees the sun setting that he realizes how much time has passed and apologizes for stealing so much of your time.

“What if I made you dinner? I feel it is the least I can do for the time you have so generously given me.”

You both go to the kitchen because you either insist on helping him prepare dinner or you want to supervise him. What you don't see is the hand of one of the ghosts appearing with a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling and Rook taking it from his hands.

“A poisonous plant is not something advisable in a kitchen, don't you think Trickster?” You turn around and see the mistletoe in his hands. “However...” He walks towards you, getting very close and looking at you with his hunter's gaze as he raises the sprig above both of your heads. “This is an excellent opportunity for you to show me in practice what your mistletoe tradition is like.”

He won't kiss you, he wants you to do it. He loves it when you're cheeky enough to take the initiative. But once you do, be prepared for him to show you how much he likes you.

Ortho overheard your conversation and showed up halfway through to join in and find out more. He was the one who told his big brother who seemed to dislike such a holiday. Boring, too lovey-dovey, an excuse for family members who can't stand each other to get together once a year to pretend they care, were some of the ways he described his conclusion about this holiday.

Idia wondered why you would miss a holiday like that and Ortho said that maybe you missed having loved ones around, or maybe you're sad that you can't share that heartwarming spirit with anyone. Spending a date where you can celebrate good feelings with the ones you love is a little sad to spend alone. Especially if you have people there that you would like to spend it with.

Idia had mixed feelings about Ortho's hypotheses and asked if he really thought there was anyone at that school or in Twisted Wonderland that you would like to spend this holiday with.

“You'll never know if you don't ask. He he.” Was Ortho's response.

Ortho knew that his big brother and you liked each other, he could read your vital signs when you were near each other or talking about each other, but he also knew that it was easier to convince you to go to Ignihyde than Idia to go to Ramshackle Dorm.

Ortho asked if you could go to Ignihyde to help him with something before he and Idia go home for the winter break. Grim didn't want to go because he didn't want to run the risk of Idia wanting to pet him and treat him like a cat.

When you arrive you ask Ortho what he needs from you.

“Actually, I'm sorry I lied to you. I don't need help with anything. I just wanted to surprise you. I've been thinking about what you said about Christmas and how you've been feeling a little down, so I decided to follow one of your traditions to try to cheer you up a little. Please check out that mobile game you love.”

You pick up your phone, open the game and see that there is something in your Gift Box. It is a key that guarantees you an SSR card. You ask if that was him and how he did that. He gives you a mischievous look and says you don't need to worry about it, he has his tricks.

“I wanted to give you a present, you know because of your tradition of exchanging gifts. Did you like it?”

You say you loved it, but you don't have any gifts for him.

“Don't worry about it, this was nothing. But if you want to do something as a gift back maybe you can help me with my big brother if you don't mind?”

He tells you that he also wants to surprise Idia and that all you have to do is convince him to open his bedroom door. Discussing with Ortho he has an idea: "I know! Why don't you tell him you have some Christmas sweets for him to try? He loves sweets!”

The two of you put this plan into action. It takes a while before Idia decides to open the door to see if you are telling the truth or not. The two of you are the only people he doesn't mind opening the bedroom door to see face to face. He sees that you don't have any sweets and Ortho admits that it was his idea to trick him.

“I don't know why I still have glimmers of hope IRL” He says, unbothered.

Ortho laughs and flies over your and Idia's heads and holds a sprig of mistletoe between the two of you. When he reminds Idia what he told him about that tradition of yours, the tips of his hair turn pink and he starts to stutter. You need to be the first one to reveal that you would like to fulfill that tradition with him.

“W-with me? Listen, you don't need to lower your standards that much just because you pity me.”

You stamp your foot saying that it have nothing to do with it and for him to stop with that self-depressing talk.

“Well, then you do it.” He smirks. “If you really want it, go ahead. Look, I'll even lower myself to be on your level. As if you were that-”

You shut him up with the kiss, and eventually he pulls you into his room and closes the door leaving his little brother in the hallway.

Lilia was the one who told Malleus, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas. The conversation focused more on the exchange of gifts, but Lilia made a point of mentioning the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, Child of Man.” Malleus greets you with a smile when you open the door. “How are you feeling today?”

You say you're fine and ask why he's asking that.

“I heard you were feeling homesick due to a holiday of yours that isn't celebrated here in Twisted Wonderland. What was it named?” You answer. “Ah yes, Christmas. Lilia told me that one of your traditions was exchanging gifts, so I brought you one.” He makes a gift appear wrapped in fancy looking paper and hands it to you.

You thank him, but say you don't have any for him because you didn't know he was going to give you a present.

“Worry not. I am aware that this gesture of mine is quite sudden. You needn't to give me a present in return, seeing you smiling after these days of feeling down will be a good enough gift.”

You open the present, it's a black hooded jacket. He asks you to try it on and when you do, you discover that on the hood there are two horns just like his. He smiles fondly.

“Lilia would be deeply envious of your cuteness right now.” Malleus comments.

“Indeed, but I will allow my crown to be taken from me this time.” Lilia appears, upside down and above the two of you.

“Lilia? What are you doing here? I thought you were packing your things so we could leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, worry not, Malleus. I have plenty of time for that. But for this...”

He smiles mischievously and stretches out his arm as he holds a sprig of mistletoe over both of your heads. He even reminds Malleus of what he said about that tradition of yours.

“Oh, I see. A kiss from me?” He smirks at you. “Practically everyone is afraid to even come near me. [Y/N], would you be brave enough to have this tradition of your be fulfilled by me?”

You step forward and show him how much you would love that. He laughs heartily. He leans in, you close your eyes, but then you feel him pull you with him into the house and close the door.

“Forgive my rudeness but I would prefer to do this with a little more privacy.” And finally he kisses you as if he had wanted to do it for a long time.

Lilia was the one who told Silver, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas, especially about the tradition of exchanging gifts. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Silver greets you with his usual neutral expression. “How are you?”

You say you're fine and ask why he's asking.

“I heard you were feeling a little down for being homesick. I think you mentioned a holiday in your world that takes place at this time of year. What was it named?” You answer. “Christmas. Is it true that one of the Christmas traditions is exchanging gifts?” You confirm. “I'm glad I didn't misheard it, then. Here, I brought you a present.”

He takes a cute little box out of his pocket and hands it to you. You thank him, but say you don't have any gifts for him.

“You don't have to worry about that. I'm not offering you this gift to get one in return. I just hope that trying to recreate a tradition of yours can bring you a little joy.” He gives you that rare smile of his.

You open the present, Inside the box is a small square of black styrofoam that holds a silver ring.

“Sorry for not being much.”

You say he doesn't have to apologize because it was a beautiful ring. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your finger. Suddenly, you both hear a chirping above you, look up and see a little bird holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

“Mistletoe. Sorry, wasn't there another tradition of yours that involved mistletoe?”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. He widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I see. Um... If you want, I don't mind fulfilling this tradition with you.” He smiles. “In fact, I would be honored to do so if you allow me.”

You take a step forward showing that you want him to do it too and he kisses you gently.

Lilia was the one who told Sebek, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas. But Sebek didn't seem very interested in the subject until Lilia tells him about the mistletoe tradition, however he tells Sebek that you are obliged to kiss the other person. This not only arouses his interest but also his indignation and revolt.

The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he goes to Ramshackle Dorm first thing in the morning.

“HUMAN!” Sebek startles you when you open the door. “I heard about your mistletoe tradition. You must be alert so as not to come across a sprig of such or a tree. I have taken the liberty of examining every paths you may go through and ensuring that you are free of this plant.” He has a smug and proud smile on.

You ask what he's talking about, confused and maybe even still a little sleepy.

“Lillia-sama told me all about the holiday you have in your world this time of year and the tradition of you being forced to kiss any subject you meet under a mistletoe. I am helping you to avoid such unconsenting tradition. You can start thanking me now.”

You tell him that the tradition of two people kissing each other under the mistletoe is true, but that it is not mandatory. It’s just something to be fun for both people, so the person can refuse to do it if they feel uncomfortable.

He asks if you are implying that Lilia deceived him on purpose. You think that maybe that is exactly what happened, but decide to say that maybe Lilia misunderstood or that whoever told him gave him the wrong information.

“Of course! Some humans are not even capable of transmitting non-erroneous information.”

“And now that we've got that sorted...” You both hear a familiar voice above you, look up and see Lilia floating while holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads. “Why don't you two try fulfilling this tradition? Like [Y/N] said, it's just a little fun thing. Kee hee.”

Sebek blushes immediately! “I... ugh... Human!” He recomposes himself. “If that is what you wish, I have no objection to carrying out your tradition.” He is still blushing.

You approach him and show that you don't object either, in fact, you would even like him to be the one to help you fulfill that tradition. Lilia leaves the sprig of mistletoe hanging over the door frame and disappears to give you more privacy. He needs a moment to prepare, but once he does he goes all in.

Cater was the one who told Lilia what you said about Christmas. Especially the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon [Y/N].” Lilia greets you with a sweet smile when you open the door. “Cater told me you were feeling a little sad for being homesick. I came to see how you were.”

You say you're fine and that your homesickness is because of a holiday that exists in your world.

“Oh, yes, he told me a lot about it. He said one of your traditions is exchanging gifts, so I brought you one.” He makes a present appear and gives it to you. “Don't worry about giving me one back. I know this gesture is very last minute. If this can cheer you up a little then that would be a great gift.”

You thank him and open the present, It is a matching set of pink gloves, scarf and hat with black bats pattern. He asks if you liked it and you say yes while trying on the scarf.

“Aw, you look so cute with it. I'm almost jealous. Oh, by the way, didn't another tradition of yours involve mistletoe?”

You confirm and tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. You ask why he suddenly remembered that. He points up with a sly smile, you look and see a sprig of mistletoe floating above your heads.

“I hope it's not against the rules to be a plastic one. I wanted to keep it as a souvenir of this day. Is it okay?”

You say there is no problem, it is still valid.

“In that case, what if you make this your gift to me? I would love to share this traditional moment with you. Nothing would make me happier than learning more about your culture first hand.”

You get closer to each other and he kisses you sweetly.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[cumironi]

warning. fem! reader, daddy kink! toji, fingering, degrading, you give him viagra.

toji fushiguro has never felt this way before in his life. he’s always been a sexually charged man— always had a high libido, but this? this is becoming ridiculous. he’s not sure what the cause of it is, but he’s sitting at his desk at work. his fingers mindlessly type away at the keyboard, hand fiddling with the mouse, but his thoughts are only on one thing.

why on earth is he feeling so hot? fuck, and why is his cock so hard? why are beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead? he glances at the clock feverishly, muttering a curse to himself as he realises he’s only two hours into an eight hour shift. fuck, what does he do? what does he do?

the first thing he can think of is you, grabbing his phone with slightly shaky hands as he opens up your contact and presses on the call button. he glances around, making sure nobody in the office is close enough to hear, and listens to it ring. the moment you pick up, you hardly get a greeting out before he’s hissing into the receiver.

“alright, ya’ fuckin’ brat, what’d ya do?”

your response on the other end is a stifled giggle and a denial of responsibility on your part. he curls his upper lip, knowing immediately that that laugh means you do have something to do with this.

“don’t fuck around with me, girl, i know it’s your doin’. now tell me, what did you do, why is my cock so damn hard right now?”

you let out another small giggle, shaking your head even though he can't see you through the phone. you lean back against your pillows, stretching out comfortably as you reply in a light, teasing tone. “aw, poor baby. having some... trouble down there?” you ask innocently, drawing out the last word for emphasis. you can practically picture the scowl on his face, which only makes you grin wider.

“maybe if you're a good boy and beg nicely, i'll tell youuu..” you trail off suggestively, enjoying the power you seem to have over him in this moment. a thrill runs through you at the thought of reducing such a strong, confident man to pleading for relie— and all from the comfort of your own bed, no less.

he grunts, rolling his eyes at your innocent act. how you think you can fool him, he doesn't know. maybe because you're so fucking young? whatever the reason, it's working. he feels his cock throbbing in agreement with your suggestion, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“beg, huh? alright then, princess,” his voice drops to a low purr, “on your knees for me, sugar. show me just how much you want to help your big bad toji.” he chuckles, shifting in his seat as he waits for your response. he knows you won't disappoint— not when there's fun to be had.

you smirk to yourself, quite pleased with how easily you've gotten under his skin. you sit up straighter, crossing your legs primly as you respond in a sweet, sing-song voice.

“ohhhh toji, you know i'd love to! but...” you draw out the word dramatically, “...i don't think i will. after all, i'm comfy right where i ammm.”

you giggle again, delighting in the frustrated noise he makes on the other end of the line. you can almost feel the heat of his glare through the phone, and it sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“besides, didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to make demands? if you wanna play, you gotta learn some manners first,” you punctuate your words with a wink, even though he can't see it.

his eyes narrow, the annoyance clear in his gaze as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “well isn't that just fucking rich? demanding manners from someone who clearly hasn't learned them yet themselves.”

he lets out a huff, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. but despite himself, he can't help but smile at your antics. “fine then, brat. how ’bout this? how ‘bout i give you a little taste of what you're denying me?”

there's a pause as he takes a moment to adjust himself, the sound of rustling fabric filling the silence between you both. he clears his throat, his voice dropping lower still. “how ‘bout i take matters into my own hands instead?”

you bite your lip, trying to suppress the excited flutter in your stomach at his words. you can practically imagine the sight of those large, capable hands wrapping around his thick length, and it sends a wave of warmth pooling between your thighs.

“that sounds... tempting,” you admit, your voice dropping to match his sultry tone. “but i'm still comfortable here. and besides, i'm not sure how well you handle rejection...”

you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well how much it would irk him. you can already picture the look of stubborn determination on his face— the same look he gets whenever he sets his mind to something.

he snorts, a hint of amusement lacing his voice despite the growing irritation. “rejection? from you? well, ain't that just a fucking shame. please, kid, you don't know the first thing about turning me down.”

his fingers drum impatiently against his thigh, the tension in his body palpable. “look, i'm giving you a choice here. either you get off that damn bed and come play with me, or i'll just have to find my own release. and trust me, it won't be pretty.”

there's a dangerous edge to his words, a promise of things to come if you continue to deny him. he's not used to being teased like this, and it's starting to grate on his nerves. but goddamn if it's not also turning him on more than he cares to admit.

you shiver at the threat in his voice, a thrill of excitement mixed with a touch of fear. you know exactly what kind of'release' he's referring to—and the thought of it has your core clenching with need.

“ohhh, I'm shaking in my boots,” you tease, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache building inside you. “but you know what they say, baby... pride comes before a fall.”

you pause, letting the weight of your words sink in. “and honestly? i'm not sure i'd want to be around for the aftermath of your tantrum. seems like it might get messy...” you trail off, leaving the invitation open-ended. you're playing with fire, you know— but the thought of seeing him lose control, of witnessing the raw desire etched across his features, is too enticing to resist.

his patience snaps like a twig underfoot. “fuck it,” he growls, standing abruptly and pacing the room in agitation. “i‘ve had enough of your games, brat.”

he stops in front of the window, gazing out at the cityscape below as he tries to regain his composure. “listen up, kiddo. i’m coming over. and when i do, we’re gonna forget all about these silly little teases and get down to business.”

there's a finality to his tone, an unspoken command that brooks no argument. he's made up his mind, and now it's time for you to comply. “be ready,” he adds, his voice low and warning. “or else.”

your heart pounds in your chest at his declaration, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling within you. you quickly scramble off the bed, your feet hitting the floor with a soft thud as you rush to prepare yourself.

“or else what?” you challenge lightly, attempting to mask the tremble in your voice. “you gonna spank me like a naughty child? or maybe you'll just have to punish me some other way...” you let your words hang in the air, suggesting all manner of punishments that send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins. you know you're pushing him, testing his limits—but part of you craves the chaos that follows such reckless behavior.

he laughs, but there's no humor in it. “don't tempt me, girl,” he warns, each syllable dripping with barely restrained lust. “because believe me, when i get my hands on you, you won't be sitting down for a week.”

he hangs up without another word, leaving you staring at the phone in disbelief. seconds later, there's a sharp knock at the door, followed by the jangle of keys. he must have kept a spare set, you realize, your heart leaping into your throat as the door swings open and he fills the frame.

he looks pissed. and turned on. and maybe a little bit crazy. “hello, sweetheart,” he drawls, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him with a resounding click. “ready to pay for all that attitude?’

he stalks towards you, a predatory glint in his eye.

your breath catches in your throat as he approaches, the air charged with tension and expectation. you stand frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from the fierce intensity in his eyes.

“i... i don't know,” you reply coyly, tilting your head to the side as you feign innocence. “attitude's kinda my thing. what makes you think i'd want to change?” you take a step back, retreating until your back presses against the wall. the cool surface provides a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your flushed skin.

he closes the distance between you in two long strides, one hand slamming against the wall beside your head as he looms over you. his free hand finds your hip, gripping it possessively as he leans in close.

“oh, i‘ll make you want to change,” he promises darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “i‘ll make you beg for it, princess. i‘ll make you scream so loud the whole damn neighborhood will hear you.”

he punctuates his words with a rough grind of his hips against yours, the hard bulge of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach. “sooo, what's it gonna be, sugar? you gonna be a good girl for daddy? or do i need to teach you a lesson?” his hand slides higher, skimming along your ribcage until his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.

a gasp escapes your lips at the contact, your nipples hardening instantly beneath the thin fabric of your top. you squirm against him, feeling the throbbing pulse of his arousal against your belly.

“i... i...“ you stutter, caught between defiance and desire. “daddy? who said anything about daddies.” your protest falls flat, though, lost amidst the haze of arousal clouding your senses. you arch into his touch, seeking more friction against your sensitive flesh.

“teach me then,” you whisper, a daring gleam in your eyes. “show me how a real man handles a naughty girl.”

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through you. “with pleasure,” he purrs, his grip tightening on your hip as he pulls you closer. his other hand moves lower, slipping beneath your skirt to find your panties damp with anticipation. “seems like someone's eager for their lesson,” he taunts, circling his fingertips around your swollen clit.

he pinches the sensitive nub firmly, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. but when none comes, he smirks. “good girl,” he murmurs approvingly, his fingers continuing their torturous dance.

“now why don't you show daddy how much you want this?” he coos, leaning in to capture your bottom lip between his teeth. “bend over and spread those legs nice and wide.” a whimper escapes you as his fingers work their magic, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. you're already so wet, so desperate for more of his touch.

“please,” you breathe, the word falling from your lips unbidden. “i need... i need...” you trail off, unable to articulate the overwhelming hunger consuming you. instead, you obey his command, turning and bracing your hands against the wall. you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes hazy with lust.

“like this, daddy?” you ask feigned innocent, slowly bending at the waist and arching your back. you reach back with one hand to lift your skirt, revealing the soaked patch of fabric clinging to your ass. “is this what you wanted?” you purr, spreading your thighs wider in blatant invitation.

a guttural groan spills from his throat at the sight before him. “fuck yes,” he growls, stalking forward to press himself against your exposed rear.

his large hands cup your ass cheeks, kneading the supple flesh roughly as he grinds his rock-hard erection against your panty-covered cleft. “such a pretty little slut for me,“ he praises, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

without warning, he yanks your panties aside and plunges two thick fingers into your dripping channel. “god, you're so fucking tight,” he grits out, pumping his digits in and out of you at a brutal pace.

he curls them slightly, stroking that spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “come on, baby,” he urges, his voice low and commanding. “ride my fingers like a good girl.”

a high-pitched moan tears from your throat as he penetrates you, your inner muscles spasming around his invading digits. the combination of pain and pleasure sends you spiraling into a frenzy of desire. “yes, yes, please!” you chant, pushing back against his hand shamelessly.

your pussy clenches greedily around his fingers, soaking them in your juices as he fucks you relentlessly. the sounds of your own arousal fill the room—moans, whimpers, the obscene squelch of his fingers moving in and out of your cunt.

“‘m going to cum,” you warn, your voice strained and breathless. “if you keep doing that, i'm going to cum all over your hand.”

a wicked grin spreads across his face at your confession, his thrusts becoming even more insistent. “then let go, sugar,” he encourages, adding a third finger to stretch and fill you further.

he quickens the pace, driving into you with a relentless rhythm designed to push you over the edge. “let me see how much you love being fucked by daddy,” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own growing arousal.

the sensation of his teeth on your skin only heightens the pleasure coursing through you, making your orgasm that much more imminent. “that's it, just like that, gooddd, ” he coaches, feeling your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.

a keening cry splits the air as your climax crashes over you, waves of intense pleasure ripping through your body. your pussy convulses around his fingers, milking them for every drop of satisfaction they can provide.

“toji!” you scream his name, the single syllable carrying the weight of your surrender. your entire world narrows down to the feeling of his hand inside you, coaxing every last tremor of bliss from your quivering frame.

gradually, the aftershocks subside, leaving you limp and panting against the wall. “fuck,” you curse weakly, trying to catch your breath. “what did you do to me?”

a satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he watches you come undone under his touch. “just warming you up for the main event,” he teases, pulling his slickened fingers free from your spent pussy with a lewd pop.

he brings his glistening digits to his lips, licking them clean with a lascivious grin. “but we're not done yet, brat,” he says, his voice laced with promise. “it's time for daddy to get some attention.”

he steps back momentarily, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. his shirt follows suit, revealing the chiseled expanse of his chest and abdomen. he unbuckles his belt with deliberate slowness, letting you take in the full extent of his arousal. “spread those legs wider,” he commands, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants.

a shiver runs through you at the sight of his bare form, his muscles rippling as he moves. there's something undeniably primal about seeing him like this, stripped bare and ready for you. a shaky laugh bubbles from your lips, still tingling from the aftermath of your orgasm. you glance back at him over your shoulder, taking in the sight of his naked lower half.

“like this?” you ask, parting your thighs even further, exposing yourself fully to his hungry gaze. “is this enough for you, daddy?”

you watch as he discards the rest of his clothes, his muscular physique on full display. the throbbing bulge in his groin draws your attention like a magnet, its size promising pleasures untold.

“are you going to fuck me now?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving him a coy smile. “because i really hope so,” you added, your voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “after all, ‘m just a naughty girl looking to satisfy her daddy.”

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening with raw lust. “naughty girl indeed,” he agrees, prowling forward until he's standing directly behind you.

his hands roam over your hips, gripping your flesh possessively as he positions himself at your entrance. “but daddy has other plans for you,” he whispers, pressing the head of his cock against your drenched folds.

he gives a slow, measured thrust, sinking into you inch by delicious inch. “feel that, sugar?” he asks, pausing to allow you to adjust to his size. "that's just the tip."

a gasp tears from your throat as he finally fills you completely, stretching you in ways you never knew possible. the sensation of being so utterly claimed by him leaves you breathless, your mind spinning with pleasure.

“oh god,” you moan, clutching at the wall for support. “you're so big... always so big,” you trail off, lost in the exquisite agony of having him buried inside you. he doesn't move for several long moments, allowing you to acclimate to his presence. the tension coiling within you is almost unbearable, each beat of your heart echoing the throbbing pulse of his cock pulsating inside your clenching walls.

“move,” you beg, finally finding your voice, “please, fuck me already.”

a smirk tugs at his lips at your plea, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. with a fluid motion, he begins to withdraw, only to slam back into you with bruising force.

each thrust hits deeper than the last, driving you further onto the edge of sanity. “like that?” he asks, punctuating his words with another punishing thrust. “does daddy feel good inside you?”

he sets a ruthless pace, fucking you with a precision that borders on cruel. every stroke sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your body, lighting up your nerves like fireworks on the fourth of july.

“you're so tight around me,“ he growls, leaning over your back to whisper in your ear. “so wet, soooo perfect.”

a strangled whimper escapes your lips as he hammers into you, the sheer intensity of his movements threatening to reduce you to a quivering mess. the sound of your bodies colliding echoes throughout the room, a symphony of carnal desires.

“mhm, oh god yes,” you moan, bracing yourself against the wall as he continues to ravage you. “so bigggg, daddy.” you reach back to grab hold of his ass, urging him to pound into you harder, faster. the sensation of his thick length splitting you open is overwhelming, sending jolts of ecstasy shooting through your veins with every brutal thrust.

“i can't...” you pant, struggling to find the words amidst the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. “i can't hold on much longer...“

a surge of possessive pride courses through him at your admission, fueling his desire to claim you entirely. “hold on, sugar,” he grates out, his voice rough with lust. “daddy's not done with you yet.”

he pulls back slightly, only to ram into you with renewed vigor. the angle of his thrusts hits that sweet spot inside you, triggering an avalanche of pleasure that threatens to engulf you whole.

“come for me again,” he demands, biting down on your shoulder to mark you as his once more. “show daddy how much you want it.” he quickens his pace, his hips snapping forward with abandon. the slap of flesh against flesh grows louder, the sound mixing with your cries to create a lewd chorus of carnality.

a keening wail tears from your throat as he strikes that perfect chord within you, sending you spiraling toward obliviation once more. the coil of pleasure inside you tightens, ready to snap at any moment.

“toji!” you scream his name, your voice cracking with need. “i'm gonna—”

your sentence cuts off abruptly as your orgasm washes over you, tearing through you with the force of a tidal wave. your inner walls clamp down hard on his cock, milking him for everything he's worth.

“fuck! fuck!“ you sob, riding out the waves of your climax, “’m cumming, ’m cumming!”

a guttural groan rips from his throat as your velvety walls spasm around him, the rhythmic squeezing pushing him closer to the brink. “that's it, baby,” he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “milk daddy's cock.”

he continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until it borders on pain. “such a good little slut,” he growls, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. he yanks your head back, forcing you to arch your spine as he pounds into you mercilessly.

with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. a hoarse shout tears from his lips as he finds his own completion, his seed spurting forth to paint your insides white.

the sensation of him filling you up, marking you as his, is indescribable. your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your legs growing weak beneath you.

“oh goddd,” you pant, collapsing against the wall for support. “you're so deep... so full, daddy.”

the warmth of his cum flooding your womb sends another ripple of pleasure coursing through you, extending your high well past its natural end. you can't help but push back against him, desperate for every last drop of his essence.

you lean back against him, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist. the warmth of his body pressed against yours, coupled with the lingering throbs of pleasure coursing through your veins, is simply heavenly.

a satisfied sigh escapes him as he slowly eases out of you, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. he turns you gently in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“feeling better now, brat?“ he teases, his voice still laced with the remnants of his satisfaction. “or do you need some more of daddy's special attention?” he nuzzles into your neck, planting a series of gentle kisses along your sensitive skin. despite the harshness of their lovemaking, there's a tenderness in his touch that speaks volumes about his affection for you.

“you're amazing when you come undone like that,” he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves with reverence. “always so responsive.”

a contented hum vibrates in your throat as he holds you close, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. the tender kisses he plants on your neck send pleasant shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the intense passion of mere moments ago.

“i think i might need a little more,” you admit, tilting your head to grant him better access. “just to make sure all that pent-up energy is drained away properly.”

you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding his lips to the crook of your neck where you know he loves to suck and bite. “and maybe some cuddles afterwards,” you add, a playful glint in your eye. you press yourself even closer to him, savoring the solid warmth of his body against yours. your fingers finding his nipple, pinch the hardened bud in between.

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your request, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “cuddles, huh? you're really milking this ‘needy’ thing for all it's worth, aren't you?”

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasp as his tongue delves into your mouth. the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip has you whimpering into the embrace, your fingers tangling deeper in his hair.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, pausing to suck a dark bruise into your skin before moving lower. “as for that pent-up energy,” he murmurs, his hot breath washing over your collarbone, “daddy's got just the thing.”

he drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes them apart. “spread those pretty legs again for me, sugar.”

[sheepispink]

Hurt

super soldier!reader x lt ghost (and technically tf141 too)

cw: angst, gunshot wound, mention of needle pricks and piercing the skin

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six

a/n: phew this was a long chapter and i sped run the last two thousand words.. again. hope you all enjoy 💓

——————————

Ghost was enjoying the game; he always did. All he had to do was turn his thoughts off and stare at the screen and cheer with the others when his team finally kicked the stupid ball into the goal. That’s what it was supposed to be, so was his head still running? He couldn't shake it off, the unnerving familiarity that he couldn't quite place, all because of that damn soldier who looked at him with widened eyes. He had just brushed it off and carried the food and drinks back to the room with the few other operators who gathered.

“Soap! Damnit, how did you..” Gaz groans, although it was actually both of their faults that the drink had splashed onto them in the first place. Soap only scoffs, nudging him with his elbow as the soda starts to drip onto the floor too.

“Oi, ye know damn well yer the one who grabbed me.”

The two huff as they have to get up and head down to the bathroom just a little way down the corridor, washing their hands and wiping down their shirts from the splash.

“Hm? Wha’ ye lookin at?”

“Ghost’s rookie, or whatever. The super soldier– why’s the room door open?”

The pair give each other puzzled yet concerned looks, opting to go inform Ghost rather than try and investigate themselves. In Johnny’s opinion, he did not want to end up on the bad end of that kid–especially from the stories he’s heard–and Gaz couldn't disagree.

“The room door’s open?” As always, Price immediately fills with concern when the two report the news, thinking over the possibilities. You weren’t the type to be reckless like that; though if you were in a rush, it may have been possible. Still, it wouldn't be without a good reason and he couldn’t find a singular one for why you may have done that. Today’s just a regular day, that’s all.

“Ghost said the kid was celebrating their birthday. Maybe they went with whoever came to go out for a bit?” Soap offers, shrugging as he sticks another cheesy nacho inside his mouth. “What’s wrong Cap’?”

Price has gone deadly still, concern spreading across his features along with something akin to guilt. He was supposed to use the budget allocated for you to buy you what you wanted, to give you even an ounce of what you actually deserved, and he had completely forgotten despite the reminder now stuck on his lockscreen. Of course, he did warn you that he was a busy man and may not be able to make it, but dammit he was sitting here watching a football match. “That soldier.. I was supposed to be there, bringing all their party stuff. Yknow, snacks, cake..”

“They’ll understand, Price; probably don't even mind all that much.” Gaz offers, trying to console the obvious guilt seeping from the Captain’s tone. “They’ll just hang with their fellow soldiers. Y'know how the rookies like to mess around.”

“It’s not like that, Garrick.” His expression grows heavier, his hand rubbing the bridge of his nose almost the same way when a mission begins to run off track. “No one speaks to them apart from Ghost and me. They’re on their own.”

——

Ghost pushes the room door open, slightly confused on why Price has ordered him to go check, but he supposes having something go wrong with someone as strong as you was a reason for concern. Though, he really is convinced that it likely isn't a big deal in the slightest; maybe you, and whatever rookies idolised you, had decided to celebrate in the grounds–who bloody knows. He’s a bit surprised by how neat your room is, considering he’s never been in here before, but he had at least thought there’d be some snacks out or something for your supposed guests. He did find it a little weird if he was being honest, how you invited him to your birthday party. You were a young soldier and rookies loved to mess around; surely they’d come join in on the fun or at least take the opportunity to watch a good movie. And him? He was a gruff lieutenant who only wanted to push you to your limits. His hand brushes over the paper thin sheets, curious as to why they’re just as rough as the infirmary beds, not to mention the countless pill bottles on the nightstand. You may be trained by him, but he didn’t bother to look further than what the file typically specified.

His eyes catch on the wardrobe, spotting the uniform that you were wearing this morning hung up already. That was weird, and now that he looked at the contents better, your hiking boots and jacket were gone, only your combat trousers left behind. Just when he was about to check where you kept your knives, his eyes caught on the colourful wrapping of a present, instantly turning his head towards your dresser.

A box lies there, the lid half off. So you did receive a present, huh? He checks for a sender but no indication is left on the box–maybe they didn't bother since they gave it to you on purpose. Out of curiosity, he decides to peek inside, his stomach feeling strangely sick when he sees the gun laid inside the box. He was right to some degree then, that you were abnormal in the way you think, but was he ever so sane? He’s about to head back when he notices the paper beneath, folded over, and picks it up. His heart felt like it broke through his ribs when he read the first line, but the second? He was running back to the others, the box gripped tightly in his hand.

“Gaz, go check the cameras now; try to figure out where they headed.” Price’s voice is loud and authoritative, wasting no time in getting to the root of this matter, especially after seeing that note. Meanwhile, he’s got Laswell on dial, waiting for her to pick up. “John? What’s wrong?”

“Kate, I need the tracker on that super soldier now.”

———————

Ghost had wasted no time, Johnny in tow as they both headed towards the mess hall. It was on the second week you came; you had been late for training. When you eventually arrived, your clothes were wet, having just doused yourself in the shower. But what he did not forget was the remnants of crappy mess hall food stuck in your hair and the ridges of your boots, the sight not particularly one you donned often. Though what should’ve raised alarm bells in his head was passed off as nothing, and even when you attempted to explain, he cut you off, already demanding you to start with no warmups.

His boots thump heavily against the floor, purpose and vengeance written into every step as he searches for your pursuers. If that situation wasn’t enough of a clue, he was damn sure that the chef would’ve seen something that could relate to the matter. “You.” His voice is sharp, instantly catching the man behind the counter, who doesn't waste a second in giving him his full attention; it was almost as if he knew something. Of course he did; everyone knew that wherever Ghost went on a mission, you followed behind, and so vice versa. “Don’t waste my time now. You saw a soldier get food dumped on them. Who did it?”

“Sir..I dont know; there’s always arguments in here-“

Ghost’s hand slams down onto the counter, not oblivious to the flicker of fear in the man’s eyes, like someone who knew they were in the wrong. He wasn’t stupid; the lies were seeping through every stammer in his sentences. “I said, do not waste my time.”

“I-it was three male soldiers–” The chef spills all the information out to him, including their name and the troops they belonged to. Those soldiers would be lucky if they even saw his mask before they felt the blow.

“Lt! Laswell tracked them; they’re in the training cabins up the hills. Capt and Garrick are waiting by the front.” Soap rushes over and Ghost firmly nods, following quickly after him as he leads him outside the building with the others. Price mans the wheel as they drive through the forestry, bumping over branches occasionally; it’s dark out so eventually they have to climb out and walk the rest of the way, torches in hand. They’re drawing closer now, the tracker in Gaz’s hand beeping relentlessly. “Almost there-”

A loud bang echoes across the grounds, startling crows as they scream and caw all around. The four SAS look at eachother with widened eyes before running towards the cabin that is faintly in view. Three soldiers stand outside trembling at the sight of John Price himself and the man with the skull mask, a duo no one ever wants to cross, approaching them, rapidly.

—------------------------

You can hear murmurs outside, or perhaps it’s yells; you can't really tell after the gunshot. Ringing echoes in your head, bouncing off every corner of your skull and repetitively attacking your brain. Every sound has been slowed and muffled as your brain tries to catch up to speed with what's happening, except you’re not the average person, and your brain catches up too fast, too soon, making every feeling crash into you. Soft fur is held between your fingers, clutched desperately as a sickening smell fills your senses. You realise the yells are from yourself, twisting into screams as you clutch the furry creature held tightly against your chest. It’s You’re whimpering pathetically, the bullet that had sounded out from your enemy’s—no, comrade’s?—gun digging deep somewhere. The fox attempts to soothe you, nuzzling its dirty face against your neck, attempting absolutely anything to get you to stop the screams that make your eyes ache and your fingers tremble.

“Kid? Kid!” Two warm hands settle on your shoulders, snapping you back into reality. Men were shouting outside; your throat was dry, and there were no screams apart from the howls of the fox you tightly clutched. Your mouth was open, but no sound echoed, screams playing on repeat in your head like you’d been taught to when they stuck those needles in you. “Someone get a damn medic here now!” A stern voice shouts, but you don't understand until the fox nudges your arm, making a newfound pain sear through you as you look at the blood soaking the fur of the animal. You panic, beginning to squirm only to get soothed by deep brown eyes.

“Y-you—“

The words don't find your mouth, the man staring back at you as he strokes your hair, the blue eyed scot already looking intently at your arm before grabbing what supplies he usually keeps on hand.

“Gaz, Sergeant Garrick, I'm here to help. Stay awake for us now, okay? C’mon, tell me your name, soldier.”

You manage to murmur it out, but your attention is more focused on the way the fox snaps at Gaz’s fingers, stopping him from comforting you. “Kid, you’re gonna have to let go of the fox-“

You shake your head frantically, holding it tighter and it equally follows, staring at Gaz with menacing eyes. “No—It’s hurt! I can't— it got shot!” You exclaim, tears streaming down your face that you didn't know were there before.

“I can help him then, can’t i? I’ll treat him.” Only then do you release your hold, letting Gaz lead the fox away with outstretched hands and a spare piece of food as bait. But you don’t understand. The fox is fine, there’s blood soaking the fur sure, but it’s not in an ounce of pain? So then.. where was the blood coming from? You look down at Soap as he crouches before your arm, and only now do you actually notice the pain stinging your arm, the tremble in your hands and the way your lips hurt from how hard you’ve bitten down. You’re bleeding, badly.

The next half an hour is a blur, between silent sobs that wrack your body, Soap managing to wrap up your arm as best as he possibly can with the gauze he keeps in his attire and Gaz repetitively trying to keep you awake. Still, you’re nowhere near being actually awake, heart thumping behind your eyes as you move in a daze, your super soldier capabilities stopping any sort of pain processing— an emergency response only you survived the experiments to produce. You’ve never been shot at before, contrary to popular belief, but it means that your mind can't keep up with all the emotional surges that come with pain and stressful situations. You’ve barely comprehend that Ghost was outside, too focused on the fact Soap had wrapped you up in his embrace, letting your face rest against his neck whilst he made sure to ease the pressure on your arm. You were still, way too still for someone who had felt every emotion as far as your dulled mind could feel only moments before, breaths so quiet as your eyes glaze over. One hand rests beneath your thighs, keeping you upright whilst the other rubs your back,holding you tight as possible as you try to understand in the slightest what is happening.

————————————-

You wake up in a medical room, or at least you assume it to be by the mostly sterile walls. Drugs contaminate your mind, leaving you in a sleep-induced haze as you blink up at the ceiling. You can only turn your head to the side, noticing the bandages around your arm but there was a strange beeping now, echoing louder and louder. Two nurses enter, each grabbing your wrist and restraining you.

Everything comes back now, the needles the third nurse carries, the blank look in their eyes, the masks they wear over their faces and the scrubs always the same shade of blue. The beeping loudens, your legs kicking wildly as you panic, unable to control the fear.

“Stop- i didn't do anything wrong! I did what I was told!”

You yell, unable to sit there and watch it go in again; you can't bear to watch your own skin be pierced without a single feeling to go alongside it. They draw closer, their eyes gaping holes into nothingness. The intern nurse isn't here to save you, your parents are signing the papers beside your hospital bed and your legs are strapped down, chest so tight you can barely push another breath out until-

Calm, quiet even, a warm hand pats your head. “Hey.. hey..” Your eyes blink open again, Gaz standing before you. It was still late, around 8:30 or 9 pm based on the position of the moon outside the window. It was slightly open, a few bushes outside, and not the best for an easy escape considering it opened inwards. It would’ve been better if—

“Kid?”

You blink up at him again; his hand was steady on your hair and properly rubbing at it now, looking at you with soft eyes. Still, you can't manage a response, only nodding quietly. “You’re safe now, okay?”

Safe. What an odd concept; would you ever really be safe? Have you ever been safe before? The soft beeps of the heart rate monitor pull your view to the side, your bare arms rubbing against the paper-like sheets and making you instantly recoil. Just the mere thought of being on these infirmary beds made you want to throw up, and it didn't help that you could faintly see an old needle in the bin beside the bed, fresh pin pricks on your arms. You were never supposed to have one again.

“Is your heart always like that?” He asks, gesturing to the monitor that you now finally look at, despite it being the first thing that caught your eye. It’s beeping, steadily, in an almost eerie way.

“It hasn't changed once, always a steady beat even when we hadn't bandaged you properly yet.” It makes your gut twist, knowing he sees you as abnormal but you are abnormal so you can't exactly feel that bad about it all.

“Yeah, it is.” You murmur quietly, looking down at the bandage around your arm now, the flimsy outfit that barely covers a thing and the prickly uncomfortable feeling that comes with being so vulnerable. But then again, you’re always vulnerable, it just depends if the person decides to take advantage of it.“I was.. made to be that way. It only goes higher when I'm working out or uh fighting. No other times.”

Gaz blinks at you in a way that makes your throat clog, but his hand is still rubbing your head. Your brain still refuses to comprehend it, afraid he’ll stop if you even think about the matter.

“Kyle. Price wants to talk to ye, i’ll look after ‘em.”

Soap enters the room, as he had introduced himself as in your pained haze a while ago. When was that even? You knew them all anyway— of course you did, who did not know the youngest soldier to join the SAS?

“Aye, you feelin’ any better?” He comes to sit beside your bed as Gaz leaves, a black container held in his hands. You watch as he adjusts the iv drip you hadn’t even noticed before, making sure it’s good on you before sitting back again. “Price wants me to have a little talk with you.” He murmurs, cracking open the lid of the container to reveal steaming food, more specifically the best you’ve ever smelt. It’s no Gordon Ramsay but it’s enough to even make you perk up, the smell of the saucy chicken and the spiced rice—and salad too? It was likely bland anyway, but it sure made your empty stomach rumble.

Regardless, Your mind locks in almost immediately; the food never looks that good, you may aswell take any chance to get a taste. “Why isnt Price here?” You knew better than to question him, but you did anyway, feeling betrayed at the mere thought that he sent his soldier to talk to you rather than himself. Doesn’t he know you’d walk to the ends of the earth to earn his approval?

“Him and Ghost have been.. dealing with your pursuers. Don't worry, they’ll be back.” That eases your head a little bit, but for some strange reason you don't quite believe Ghost would do that at all. Yet still, you were sure to get corrected if you dared to act up and ask again.

“After the medics patched up your wound, they realised you’re well.. malnourished to say the least. You needed an emergency IV drip.” He begins, scooping up a heaped spoon of the food. “We want to know why you haven't been eating— it’s not like there isn't food available.” Your mouth waters at the sight of his spoon; he’s just glad at the fact you look willing to eat rather than forcefully starving yourself. “There’s.. never much food left when i come back..” You start, but he doesn't believe it, staring at you with a raised brow. Even so, he lifts the spoon to your mouth, and you dont argue, chewing it down quickly.

“Aye, y’know ye can just tell the truth righ’ ? If ye do, I'll get ya food like this for the next two weeks. Or perhaps you just prefer hospital food?”

Everyone knows that hospital food is far from appetising, even for you who barely cares about what food goes into your body. But you can’t deny that eating those bland foods brings back memories you absolutely cannot have return right now, because no matter how much they experimented on you, they most definitely couldn’t stop your brain's base function— to remember. Still, it feels strange to speak up now, especially with the way the Scot is staring at you, his eyes a piercing blue and you feel seen, but it’s raw and ugly rather than relief that tingles your nerves.

What good would it even do? It’s not like they’re actually doing something wrong, right? Super soldiers exist to be unbeatable, therefore the notion of them beating or bullying you cannot co-exist with that fact. Unless, you were beatable, unless you did have weaknesses, unless you weren’t actually the prime of human being—

Unless you weren’t a real super soldier.

Soap lets out a sigh, snapping you out of his trance and the disappointed look that's written over his face is enough to resurface every reason relating to why you haven't been eating. Your brain is like a database, and his disappointment is the energy that fuels you to search and retrieve each incident that relates, just like the supersoldier machine they’d made you into. But there’s too many things to say now, and not enough words to convey them. You look up again, realising you’ve been staring at your hands for too long now just to realise he isn't even staring at you in contempt. No, he’s waiting, patiently, and you know this for sure because you can actually read the emotions on his face. With Ghost, everything was a guessing game, pushing your brain so hard to figure out the absolute best way to approach things whilst addressing every emotion you didn't know he was feeling. Sometimes he felt like a super soldier rather than you did.

”Soap?” You say quietly, and he perks up immediately, not expecting you to actually give in it seems, or really talk to him for that matter. “Mhm? Thinking about havin’ some good food?” A small smile slips onto his lips, trying to ease the tension in your body by a smidgen with a teasing tone.

“What if they don’t let me have the food, Soap?.” You admit quietly, repeating his call sign like it strings you back to this reality, keeps you grounded in this scratchy hospital bed. “Whose they?” He asks, his hand reaching out to rest upon your leg, rubbing it over the covers.

“The chefs, the soldiers—I don't know their names. I walk into the mess hall, at the end of lunch, and they tell me that my ‘friends’ have already taken my plate for me.” The words fall out, recounting the daily experience for the past three months, the one you can never change the course of.

“They know that they aren't my friends. They watched as I went to ask them for my plate, and they knew they’d throw it on me.”

Soap’s lips part as he stares back at you, shocked by the audacity of some of these soldiers, but even the chefs? He can understand the first time, they might have actually thought they were, but why continue to give those soldiers your plate if not to torture you?

Hazing was normal in the military, too normal, but it never lasted this long and usually after a superior saw, it got shut down immediately with a firm warning for wasting food and messing around. So why hadn’t Ghost stopped it?

”Why didn't you say anything?!”

Except it came with a slam of the door, the roughness of a voice too familiar, and the heavy boots of a man you feared since you woke. That wasn’t Soap’s words, no. “Lt? I thought you were with Price—“

“Go with Gaz, Johnny.” Your gaze lifts again, the throbbing on your arm almost unbearable or maybe it’s the fear spilling a cold sweat across your body. “You could’ve ruined everything! What the hell are we supposed to tell the superiors, huh? That you almost died over some stupid hazing?!”

Soap glances between you two, taken aback by his Lt’s sharp reaction to the situation, the tone that he’s only used with enemies who have almost brought the country to its knees if not for their task force. It’s not right.

“Lt—“

He doesn't back down, stepping forward to the bed you lay in, walking closer to the point Soap has had to stand up and step back for a moment, confused.

“You better have a damn good reason. All you had to do was speak up once— just say anything! But no; you love to keep your reputation don't you? Is that it? Is that why you never bloody told us?!”

He’s pushed back by an arm across his chest, one that he breaks if not for Soap taking his momentary hesitation to block his path. “Johnny move—“

“Lord, Ghost! Why do you think they don’t want to speak up? Look at their face!”

Ghost’s eyes shift, listening to his sergeant despite the anger that courses through him. Though, when he looks at you he no longer sees the living weapon, the cocky rookie nor the monster the higher ups created. Your eyes are blown wide, just like the soldier that stopped him in his tracks earlier today, and he doesn’t find a hint of anything he used to describe you in your current state or ever to be honest.

No, you’re terrified, looking at him like he’s the monster himself.

—————-

NEXT CHAPTER

no animals were harmed in the making of this fic

COD MASTERLIST buy me a coffee :)

TAG LIST:

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[tprings-hair]

I'm going to say something about the new unification short film that I haven't seen anyone here say yet.

I love the handholding scene. massively impactful. I love the echo of "this simple feeling" from the motion picture and the genesis reference and the idea that spock did not die alone or among strangers. it's just so satisfying after all this time to know that even shatner knew it was wrong and needed to be approached with more compassion for nimoy and the fans who loved these characters and knew they should be together at the end, whatever that looked like.

but you know what really got me?

this minute or so. kirk confronting his old selves. because that's obviously original series kirk right there in the gold uniform.

and the other? THAT'S HIM!!

(I'm linking it this way because you apparently can't add more than one video to a post and I need it here for demonstration.)

so we have present kirk walking down a dark hallway. at the end is spock, but at the end is also spock's death. how can he step forward and face that? what happened to the way he used to think about death?

yellow shirt is TOS kirk, who had always found a way around the problem and never (if the movies are to be believed) had to face death straight on. he's looking forward with confidence. there's no way spock is dying. there's a way out of this somehow, if only he can find it.

TOS kirk looks back the way he came, because he believes he can go back. he can always go back. the series always resets to the same characters who can be depended on to take similar actions, because that's what a serial is, and that's who he is. things have taken their toll on him, but he knows he can take the hit and keep moving.

but he stops when he's faces with WOK kirk. the one in the red dress uniform, who has lost spock and knows what it is to live without him. who has faced death in a way he had never had to before, because the constraints of the series never allowed it. he has been changed because of it.

TOS kirk sees that, and does that sort of posturing that he always does in front of someone who's threatening him. but WOK kirk isn't threatening him. he's just living through something TOS kirk hasn't had to face yet. it's him staring his past self in the face and telling him, kindly and firmly, you know nothing about how it will feel. you will never be the same without him.

and TOS kirk looks back again, and there's a present kirk, wearing his generations uniform. this is kirk having turned that grief to a desperate search for the most important person in his life, and emerged with spock by his side. he's not the same, but he's made it through. of course TOS kirk would look to that.

and as our kirk looks at these people he used to be, they vanish in front of him. he remembers the way he used to think about losing spock. the fear, the grief, the hope. there's no hope left. when he reaches the end, spock will be there, and it will be their last time together.

but he puts the pin back on, and reminds himself of his duty not just to a fellow officer, but to a friend, to the most important person in his life, and to himself. spock should not be alone, and he never got to say goodbye properly before. doing it now is the least he can do.

that's his ultimate responsibility in that moment: being there for spock. that's been his ultimate responsibility from the beginning. and this is shatner acknowledging that they deserved an ending that fit that truth.

[mclqren]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL ★ FC43

PAIRING ✦ franco colapinto x fem!sargeant!reader

SUMMARY ✦ with your brother's seat being taken by your admirer of the past year, you try your best to stay clear, but it's hard when franco is trying so goddamn hard to get your attention [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing, very minor hate comments

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ i am NOT fluent in italian or spanish so please correct me if i've messed up on either of them! i count this as the best of both worlds because i love having franco on the grid but i'm missing my goat logan. the faceclaim i've used is marissa long but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

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liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, and 110,331 others

tagged logansargeant

yourusername logie, my bestest friend and the best older brother i could ever ask for. i am so so SO proud of you and the journey you have had during your formula one seasons. so many memories have been made, and i know that i will never ever forget the times we spent in the williams paddock, just having fun together (& bullying alex, obviously). the williams social media page won't be the same without me posting slips of you. trust me when i say this isn't the end, but simply the beginning. lots of love always and forever, y/n 💗

comments have been restricted

logansargeant ❤️

liked by logansargeant, francolapinto, and 94,522 others

yourusername someone hit me up with an italian man please, i love this country

view all comments

user4 oh she's taking it

user5 mother as perrrr

user6 the sargeant genetics are LETHALLL

user7 please someone tell me why is she in italy if her brother doesn't drive for williams anymore?

user8 she's the williams social media manager!! she started in the same year as logan x

logansargeant baby sis ❤️

yourusername love you sm 💗

francolapinto did you know i'm actually half italian?

francolapinto sei molto bella🙏🙏 (you are very pretty)

user9 second year running and he's after y/n AGAIN IM CRYING

user10 after taking her brother's seat too PLEASEEE he has guts i have to give it to him

user11 FRANCO'S COMMENT I'M DYINGGGG

user12 and the way she's ignoring it too oh my days 😭 it's been a year and he's still on this

imessages ( y/n )

liked by logansargeant, francolapinto, and 92,801 others

yourusername week off 🍏

view all comments

user16 farm girl???

user17 where is she 😭😭

yourusername my best friend's farm 💗

user18 multi-talented girl fr

user19 she looks like she BELONGS fr

user20 she def doesn't want to go back to the old 9-5

yourusername oh def not

yourbsf my angel 🪽🤍

yourusername best time w you alwaysss 💗

francolapinto never wanted to be a goat so badly

user21 I AM PISSING MYSELF

user22 HE IS SO BLATANT AT THIS POINTTTT

user23 @/yourusername PLEASE WE NEED YOUR THOUGHTS ON FRANCO'S COMMENTS

user24 she def won't answer but it's still so fucking funny i can't

liked by logansargeant, francolapinto, and 97,210 others

yourusername most beautiful place 💗

view all comments

user28 beautyyyy

user29 please y/n we need to see your pinterest RIGHT NOW the vibes are everything

user30 okay but...you & franco??

user31 what about letting people have some privacy, hm?

user32 oh wowwww

francolapinto not as beautiful as you 😉❤️

yourusername 🤣🤣

user33 FRANCO YOU DID IT!!!

user34 watch as franco puts y/n noticed x1 in his bio now

user35 THE WAY HE ACTUALLY DID IT. GIRL...

user34 I AM CREASING I CANNOT

lilymhe baby girl 😍

yourusername my lilypad i love you to bits!!

logansargeant are you sure you and that lion aren't twins

yourusername i'm thinking we were separated at birth??

liked by francolapinto, alex_albon, and 699,303 others

tagged francolapinto

williamsracing and just like that, mr colapinto is a point scorer in formula one, in his second ever race!! congratulations franco, take a bow 👏💗

view all comments

user38 CONGRATULATIONS FRANCOOO!!

user39 big question is...which admin posted this?

user40 one MILLION percent y/n. no doubt about it.

user41 you can tell y/n posted this bc of her signature pink heart HAHA

user42 i just know somewhere franco is kicking his feet and giggling over y/n telling him to take a bow for his performance

user43 oh franco colapinto you have won me over

user44 seeing this and lowkey feeling so sad for logan

user45 no but imagine how y/n must feel?? her brother just leaving and having to post this, she must hate franco right about now

user46 honestly, judging by the post race interview, i think y/n is fine with franco scoring points, tbh!

yourusername 👏👏💗

francolapinto hearts ❤️

user47 I AM SOBBING THIS IS TOO CUTE??

imessages ( franco )

imessages ( y/n )

liked by logansargeant, francolapinto, and 101,989others

yourusername 🦢🦢

view all comments

user48 IS MISS Y/N OUT ON A DATE???

user49 facecard could kill.

user50 Y/N ON A DATE WHO CHEERED

user51 someone check up on franco like right now.

user52 either franco is the guy in the pictures and that's why he's not commenting, or he's entered a depressive state

user53 knowing his dramatic ass it could be either

alex_albon mystery man 👀🤑

yourusername shhhh albon

logansargeant i'll fight him if he hurts you 😁

yourusername love you too logie 🧸

imessages ( y/n )

liked by francolapinto, logansargeant, and 106,312 others

tagged francolapinto

yourusername city break 🇦🇷

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user54 FRANCO CAMEO FRANCO CAMEO THIS IS NOTTTT A DRILL

user55 I AM SCREAMING

user56 alexa play how you get the girl by taylor swift

user57 she's in his hometown...so this serious stuff now

user58 Y/N I LOVE YOU FOR THIS

francolapinto 😁❤️❤️

yourusername 💗💗

logansargeant willing to fly out to collect you if i have to 🫡

yourusername i promise you i'm fine 💗

liked by alex_albon, yourusername, and 1,112,091 others

tagged yourusername

francolapinto 1 AÑO DESPUÉS… ¡¡TENGO A LA CHICA!! ¡¡VAMOS!! la persona más hermosa por dentro y por fuera, con el corazón más grande que jamás haya existido. estoy tan feliz en este momento que las palabras no pueden explicarlo. te amo te amo te amo ❤️ (1 YEAR LATER… I GOT THE GIRL!! COME ON!! the most beautiful person inside and out, with the biggest heart that ever lived. i am so happy right now that words cannot explain it. i love you i love you i love you ❤️)

view all comments

user59 original y/n franco fans RISE

user60 WE ARE THE REAL WINNERS!!

user61 oh he is in love for real

user62 need someone to love me how he loves y/n

user63 their love is so so special

user64 okay but how's logan feeling about all this...? must be so awkward...

user65 judging by his comment...i think he's doing absolutely fine 🤣

logansargeant hurt her and i'm at your doorstep. 😊

francolapinto will never be a problem 🫡

yourusername you're the cutest ever

yourusername FRANCO 🤣🤣

francolapinto let me share my love for you, no?

yourusername i wanna kiss you so bad rn

logansargeant keep it pg-13 please.

yourusername logan.

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TAGS ✦ @shepgurl ; @blushmimi ; @nyxx-knight ; @fall-bambi ; @suns3treading ; @wowzees ; @d3kstar ; @poppysrin ; @ailooosworld ; @joalslibrary ; @dejavuontrack ; @dripostsstuff ; @kaylassturniolo

[enjakey]

You, All This Time

Pairing: Dancer!Niki x Fem!Filmstudent!Reader

TW/N | 37k- childhood friends au, best friend's brother au, slow burn (like too fucking slow), sex, Niki's family, especially his sisters (Konon, Sola), are very much involved in this story, Y/N is Sola's best friend, Riki first says "she's like a sister to me" a lot around his friends, mentions of health issues and fainting, huge friend group mentioned, lots of fluff, lots of love, lots of family sentiments- ending on an era, this instalment of the New York series. Niki is Riki in this fic as this isn't an idol au, and he is also very much older like in his late 20s. Age gap mentioned!

Summary: Riki had known Y/N since she was a kid- she was his sister's, Sola's, best friend, after all. It was hard not to see her. He spent most of his childhood taking care of Sola and Y/N with Konon- putting band-aids on her scraped knee, sneaking out to buy ice cream and running into the beach together. But then, at the ripe age of fifteen, he moved to New York with his friends to start anew- but Y/N was never forgotten. She hovered in his life with Sola's presence- until, she entered his life again like a breath of fresh air. She came to New York to pursue a masters in film and in the process, Riki found himself wrapped up in the storm that was Y/N.

Heeseung | Jay | Jake | Sunghoon | Sunoo | Jungwon | Niki | masterlist

BEING BROUGHT UP WITH impeccable sentimental, familial and behavioral values was something Riki was known for amongst those in his life. He wasn’t religious but didn’t discriminate or judge those that were and he would never dare talk back to someone older to him, especially if they had graying hairs and bad posture. He was taught to never point a finger at anyone but to direct his hand towards them instead and he was taught to politely thank anyone for any miniscule favors he’d receive. He was taught to be polite and respectful to anyone he came across, regardless of his personal feelings for them but he could never learn not to judge a book by its cover. His sisters were brought up the same way.

Konon was the oldest of the three Nishimura siblings which meant that she was a year older to Riki and five years older to Sola. The three siblings grew up like best friends, leaving no secrets and unresolved fights between them. If two were fighting, one would act as a mediator to settle the situation. If their parents were scolding one, the other two would stand in defense. Konon would buy matching clothes and shoes out of her limited pocket money and made sure that they would wear the outfits whenever they went on vacation. Being the oldest sibling, it was a responsibility she had to take on.

Her parents expected her to help take care of Sola when they couldn't because they were usually busy with work and they expected her to cook and pack Riki’s lunch if they ever slept in too late. All these chores and many more were things she did regardless of whether her parents expected it from her. She cared about her siblings far more than people understood. There were times when she would bring her friends to defend Riki if he was ever being bullied in school and there were times she would stay up all night taking care of a crying Sola if her parents were out on business trips. And she didn’t just dote on them because of her love for them. She also understood that her parents had to work hard in order to afford the huge house they lived in and put enough food on the table to feed a family of five.

To sum things up, Konon was the perfect daughter. Their relatives- aunts and uncles- constantly praised her for her high levels of maturity and sense of responsibility and if her parents had to be honest, she was the smartest out of the three siblings. She maintained perfect grades and was a phenomenal dancer and her teachers, since the beginning of high school, had praised that she was on her way to get a scholarship at some of the world’s best universities. To top it all off, she had won the jackpot in inheriting the attractive Nishimura genes- well, so did her siblings.

But the weight of this responsibility, of being the perfect daughter and perfect sister, only grew heavy on her shoulders around the time Riki turned fourteen. He was just entering high school, barely garnering the experiences of a teenager, when he and his camp friends had made a request to send him to America with them. When Konon heard the news from her parents, she felt her heart drop and head swell- she wasn’t sure what to make of this request. At first, she simply laughed it off, labeling it as one of those stupid adolescent dreams that most people had. She herself had such dreams of moving to another country with her friends in high school. But then he and his friends had made a detailed plan and even a PowerPoint to formally request for his departure and it brought her to tears. What flabbergasted her more was the fact that her parents actually considered it.

It wasn’t that Konon was jealous of the fact that Riki was going to America to further his studies. Well, she wasn’t jealous enough to ruin the bond they had. She was more worried than anything. In the months that he first moved, she’d stay up all night wondering if his friends were taking care of him well and if he was going to school and studying like a good student. She’d call him frequently and ask about his day, his homework and how his new dance teachers were treating him. He told her that school was less stressful than it was in Japan, that his homework was a little hard because he wasn’t fluent in English (but he was getting there) and that his dance lessons couldn’t be better.

If there was anything anyone knew about Riki, it was that he was always able to adapt to any situation that he was faced with. It was almost like a superpower he held, something that made him more superior than the rest of his friends. When he and his six friends first moved to New York City, he was probably the only one that didn’t complain- not as much as everyone else, at least. Heeseung was always whining about college and how he regretted majoring in music sometimes. Jay was complaining about how Jake and Sunghoon were terrible roommates because they never cleaned their dishes and made their beds. His own roommates were worse because he had to deal with their complaints. Jungwon would complain about not liking the food he’d buy and Sunoo would complain about his pillow never being soft and his air conditioner never working at night. Heeseung was usually up all night working on his assignments and the music he composed would wake everyone up. But the thing about Nishimura Riki was that his mother taught him to be a good helper, so he would help Jungwon pick out food that fit his liking and would exchange pillows with Sunoo and fix the air conditioner whenever he could. He even bought everyone earplugs.

Niki had his own complaints, too, but he would rarely voice them out. He hated that his dance class was much too far from where his apartment was and he hated that he had trouble focusing in class because he would give up on understanding English. He hated the fact that he had to have Jake and Jay help him with his homework because it made him feel like a primary school boy. At times, he felt vulnerable because of this and the feeling was more overwhelming because he was in a whole new continent, oceans away from the country he was used to. Sometimes, he’d feel so homesick that he’d want to call his parents to buy him a ticket home so he could enroll back into his old school again and play Mario Kart with his sisters over melted ice lollies and frozen grapes. But he held himself back, knowing that studying in New York would get him a better career than it could in Japan- and he also wanted to prove to his parents and Konon that he could, in fact, be independent.

Out of the seven of them, Jake was probably the first to hit the jackpot in having a successful career. He first set out to study engineering but on a random whim, he tried dabbling in the modeling industry and only a few months later, he found himself ditching college altogether to pursue modeling as a full time job. He was showing up in magazines, commercials and even newspapers and finally, he had bought an apartment of his own, closer to the upper east side. It was around that time that he got a girlfriend, who was also a model, whose house was conveniently close to Riki’s dance class and Jungwon’s karate lessons. The two would find themselves going to her house as a rest stop and she would let them sleep and would sometimes even cook them food if they were particularly exhausted. Around this time, Riki’s grades had improved, his English was borderlining on fluency and because of the added advantage of having more rest, he developed a new flare in his dance.

Jake and Chiara got married. He was the first out of the seven of them to get married and it was a hassle to decide between themselves who the best man would be for the ceremony  (Jake refused to make the decision himself because he said he didn’t want to risk the chance of hurting anyone’s feelings). So, they all picked chits and it was decided that Sunghoon would be the best man for Jake’s wedding and Riki would be the best man at Sunghoon’s wedding (which was unfortunate because Sunghoon had garnered a reputation for being terrible at maintaining relationships).

Over the years, he watched the rest of his friends find girlfriends and start families of their own. When they started having kids, he was being called an uncle before he had even graduated university. They all had started careers of their own and soon enough, everyone had their own house or apartment. Jake, along with modeling, had also taken up photography. Jay had completely taken over his father’s business. Sunghoon was one of the most famous figure skating instructors in America and finally settled in a long term relationship. Heeseung was a successful producer in the music industry with artists lining up to work with him. Sunoo started a cosmetics brand and made frequent trips between Korea and America. Riki, after tremulously getting a degree in business, had opened a dance studio with Jungwon and his girlfriend- now wife, Eva. The whole reason the two even started dating was because of Riki.

When it came to dating, Riki wasn’t exactly pent over it like most people he knew were. He, too, was known for having short-lasting relationships but for different reasons. The difference between him and Sunghoon was that he could never find himself being invested in the girl he was seeing while Sunghoon simply had bad taste and luck when it came to women. Now that he considered it, Sunoo would probably never get the chance to be best man at a wedding (Sunoo picked Riki when they were picking chits) because Riki never gave marriage a second thought. To him, it was almost unnecessary to think about, like it was just another errand he could worry about later. His parents had brought up the topic of girlfriends and marriage before but he would always change the topic. If Konon brought it up on their weekly calls, he would roll his eyes and tell her to worry about her own marriage. Even at the age of twenty-six, when he could afford to provide and support for someone other than himself and when all his friends were either engaged or married with kids, he never felt like he had to go down the same road they did.

There was a time when he thought something was probably wrong with him- psychologically, mentally. He had dated so many phenomenal girls, all who would get along with his parents and sisters and he could even go as far as to imagine starting a family with them, imagine them interacting with his family- but in those scenarios, he would never see himself happy. He would always be standing in the sidelines, awkwardly watching and not taking the initiative to introduce himself or support her in conversations. It was around that time when he realized that he had never truly been in love with anyone.

When he talked to Chiara, the psychologist of the group (because she graduated with a college degree, unlike her husband), she told him that it wasn’t something to be ashamed or worried about. Just because he didn’t find someone to love, didn’t mean that he never would and it especially didn’t mean that something was wrong with the way his brain was wired. It simply meant that he hadn’t found the right person for him and that it was alright to wait.

“Sunghoon waited so long and he finally found Sarah, didn’t he?”

“What if I’m not capable of love, though?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Chiara laughed at him and put more broccoli on his plate. Even after all these days, her cooking probably brought him the most comfort in all of New York. “You love us, isn’t that proof enough?”

Every week or so, everyone would gather around Jake and Chiara’s house for dinner, simply to chat and keep the bond of the group alive. Some would drink, some would play movies on the television and others would babysit the children because they were all still quite young, either a couple months old or a couple years. During these dinners, Riki would be made fun of at least once regarding his relationship status. Jay and Heeseung even had a habit of placing bets on how long his relationships would last. Riki didn’t take offense to this practice, in fact he found it comical when Heeseung would lose the bets almost every time. But it also comforted him to know that at least someone had faith that he would find love too.

“Now, Sunoo’s the only one that needs to worry about whether he’ll be best man or not,” Sunghoon would say but in all honesty, everyone knew that this type of thing wasn’t something Sunoo would brood about.

Everything that Riki stood by, though, had gone to shambles when Y/N entered his life again.

Well, Y/N had never left his life to begin with, there was just a physical distance keeping them apart. She had always been there, lurking in conversations he had with his sisters and standing in the corners of some of his pictures with a wide smile as she hugged Sola. The two were best friends, after all. They met each other in kindergarten and had grown up together ever since. She came on family vacations with them sometimes and Riki even used to babysit them together back when he was still in Japan.

The last time he had seen her, she was ten or eleven. She came to the airport to send him off to America, waving goodbye to him along with Sola and Konon with tears brimming their eyes. From what he knew, Y/N had always been fond of him like he was her older brother. She never had siblings of her own and her parents were usually always working abroad so his family became a second family to her. He had watched her grow up from this helpless thing in kindergarten to an eleven year old girl that would frequently get in trouble in school because she’d never pay attention in class. Riki had always been fond of her, too. It was hard not to be when he was around her so much. He took care of her like she was his sister, bought her ice cream when she cried and put medicine on the one time she scraped her knee on the ground while playing tag.

He could say he still somewhat knew what was going on in her life, even after moving to New York. Whenever he video called his family, Y/N was usually there as well and she would wave to him and ask how he was. Her and Sola were almost always together, like two peas in a pod, so whenever he talked to his youngest sister, the topic of Y/N would always come up and he had learned that she was the smartest in her class, had aspirations to become a film director and even had a knack for learning languages. Sometimes, he would wonder if Sola told her things about him, too- that he had graduated university, started a business and earned enough to buy himself a decent house in what was considered one of the most expensive cities on Earth.

Sola once told him that when she got her first phone, Riki’s number was the first she had saved. But it occurred to him that she never tried contacting him. The only interactions they had were through calls with his family. 

“Riki-kun! How’s New York?”

“It’s pretty great, how’s school?”

“Pretty great, too.”

Riki was twenty-six now, which meant Sola and Y/N had even graduated college. He was supposed to go for their graduation but work kept him busy and he had to cancel his flight back home. He watched the graduation ceremony through the live broadcast the college had provided for family members that couldn’t attend and he watched as Sola accepted her diploma and hugged Y/N like she had just conquered the world. The pair walked around carrying flower bouquets wrapped in beige newspaper and threw their hats in the air to mark their victory.

A couple months later, when their summer break was supposed to end, Riki got a call from Sola when he was in the middle of work. Riki had given his family strict instructions to never call him during his work hours unless it was an emergency. And if his sister was calling him at such an hour, he had no choice but to cut his lesson short and tend to his duty as an older brother.

“Hey, sis,” he chimed, wiping the sweat off his face with a stained towel. “What’s the matter?” He asked with caution, trying to catch his breath from abruptly stopping his dance. His eyes darted back and forth, wondering what kind of issue she could be in, waiting for her to respond.

“Hey, sorry,” he heard her cringe. “I kept forgetting to ask you about this so I just called when I got the chance.”

“Alright, what is it, then?” He let out a breath and leaned against the plush wall behind him, slumping his shoulders and letting the towel fall to his feet. “I haven’t got all day, you know?” He said, his brotherly teasing and affection resurfacing the second he stopped worrying about her.

“Funny,” he heard her say and could almost imagine her rolling her eyes. “It’s about Y/N. She’s coming to New York to study.”

“What?” Riki blinked profusely, processing the information before ultimately saying, “that’s amazing. I’m proud of her but what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, because her university is close to where you live so I thought I’d tell you and you can… you know?”

“So I can, what?”

“Pick her up from the airport? Look after her while she studies there the next few years? She’s my best friend, you know? And you practically watched her grow up, too. She’ll be in a new country so it’d be nice to have a friendly face there. Mom and dad agreed, too. They said you should keep an eye on her when you can. You know how worried her parents can get and even they were relieved to know that you’d be living close to her-”

As Sola went on rambling, Riki thought of all possible outcomes that could come out of him picking her up from the airport (because he hadn’t processed the fact that he would essentially be her local guardian once she’s moved to her dorm). His first thought was that it would probably be awkward. He wouldn’t know the first thing to ask her or talk to her about and conversation would be necessary because the drive from the airport back to the city was quite long and he refused to spend it with thick air. Then, reconsidered it and wondered that maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. This was the girl that he used to babysit, and play tag with and eat ice cream with. If anything, they could laugh about the past and maybe get to know each other again. And even if Riki was hesitant, he could never turn down the request to help someone in need.

“Alright, alright, alright, I got it,” he cut her off from rambling. “Where is she gonna study and when do I pick her up?”

NEW YORK FILM ACADEMY wasn’t a sight Riki was unfamiliar with. He’d drive across the campus everyday while on his way to work and on his drive home. It was no different today, either, except now he knew he had some sort of affiliation with the university now. Y/N is going to study here, he thought, I’m going to see her walking in and out of the building a lot. It was such thoughts that filled his mind while driving to the airport and he had to wake up two hours earlier in order to reach there on time. He still found it weird that he was going to the airport to pick up an old friend, a person he could practically call family. Perhaps they were like cousins? He wasn’t exactly sure where they stood. He knew that if he had stayed in Japan, they would have been like siblings, just as they were before he moved to America, but instead, he was questioning what his sister’s best friend would be to him, in terms of relation.

Riki didn’t have a board with Y/N’s name written on it because he was adamant. When Sola offered to send him a picture of her, in case he found it hard to recognise her in the crowd, he insisted that he would recognise her without any help. It almost hurt his ego to even consider that he would be ignorant and aloof enough to forget the face of someone his family considered important, someone he was once very close to. He was also convinced that Y/N would be able to recognise him without help, too.

“You’ve changed a lot since the last time she’s seen you, you know?” Sola reasoned. “So has she.”

“We’ve seen each other on video calls,” he argued. “Should be fine.”

He was questioning his choices as he waited for Y/N to walk out of the airport, his eyes eagerly trying to fish out a familiar face from the sea of people spilling out of the automatic glass doors. He was on the brink of texting Sola to send him a picture after all or perhaps contacting Y/N through Instagram when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, brows knitted in confusion as he held his phone away from his gaze to find Y/N standing there with a shy smile, her long hair hiding her cheeks. She had her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her feet, probably easing the anxiety she felt from seeing him after a long time. 

“Long time no see,” she said, her voice almost disappearing as she tried speaking without stuttering.

Riki himself felt a wave of panic when he saw her, his eyes widened in surprise to see how much she had changed. Granted, it was something he had expected. An eleven year old would surely grow taller in the decade that he didn’t see her but what awed him the most was that he wasn’t expecting for all his childhood memories to come flooding back to him- running around the beach with her, sitting beside her in rollercoasters and sneaking away from his parents so buy a soda from a street vendor. Catching glimpses of her on video calls was one thing but actually having her stand in front of him, in all her glory, was like a slap in the face to bring him back to reality.

“Y/N,” he cleared his throat, blinking his eyes back to normal. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A decade, yeah,” she nodded, chuckling into ease. He hid her smile behind the back of her hand and her bangs blew in the direction of the wind. “You look different.”

At first, Riki thought she was talking about his appearance specifically. It was a given, considering the fact that he had started going to the gym around junior year in high school and he was practically a beanstalk in comparison to her (and all of his friends, Riki grew up to be impressively tall). But when he saw her continuing to shyly smile, he realized she was pointing out the sheer fact that he simply looked older compared to the last time she saw him- which was at the airport ten years ago.

“You do, too,” he grinned and looked her up and down, just to note what he’d never noticed when seeing her in video calls. She was wearing a white dress with cherries printed on the fabric. To hide her arms from the cold, she wore a black cardigan. It was a rather simple outfit, but then he noticed her attention to jewelry and grinned. “You’re into fashion, huh?”

As Y/N gripped the strap of her bag, Riki moved to drag her suitcase towards his car and she followed behind his feet. The suitcase wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be but then remembered that Sola told him that her parents were having the rest of her belongings parceled directly to the university. 

“Well, I’m an arts student,” she shrugged, tilting her head as she spoke. “It’s kind of a given, no?”

“I suppose so,” Riki nodded. They reached his car and he opened the truck to stow away her bag and suitcase, nodding his head towards the passenger's seat so Y/N could make herself comfortable in the car. “Film and cinematography, is it?” He asked as he sat beside her and started the car.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a nod.

“How so?”

Y/N cracked a grin, confused at his curiosity. Riki drove away from the parking lot and they were already on their way out of the airport premises. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he rephrased. “What got you interested in film?”

“Ah,” she pondered, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I watched Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar. And I guess, since then, I’ve been obsessed with how movies are made and how much some directors pay attention to detail. I think I just love movies.”

Riki hummed as an acknowledgement, hands swiftly moving the steering wheel to follow the road. He was fascinated, really, with how things had turned out- he was meeting someone again after a decade. And he was going to get to know this person, not just because she was his sister’s best friend but because he had a new found responsibility over her. He wouldn’t be able to just sit in his house if he ever knew that Y/N would need help during college. He wouldn’t be able to ignore her needs when she’d be living close to him.

“Is he your favorite director?” He asked in hopes of continuing conversation.

“I… guess you could say that,” she agreed. “But I also do like Quinton Tarantino, his scripts can be flawless.”

“He directed Pulp Fiction, right?” Y/N nodded again to his question. “I watched it just a couple of days back. It’s a pretty great movie.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said. “I think Tarantino and James Cameron write the best scripts in Hollywood. Maybe even Greta Gerwig.”

“James Cameron is the one who directed Avatar?”

“And Titanic,” she confirmed.

“You know, I’ve never watched that movie?” Riki laughed and Y/N was about to feign offense. “But somehow I still know everything that happens in the movie. Never watched The Notebook either.”

“Oh, my God,” Y/N let out a soft giggle, almost as if she was holding back her laughter. Her hand moved to hide her smile again and she leaned her head further into the headrest. “A lot of people haven’t watched those movies. You’d be surprised.”

“A friend of mine keeps asking me to but we never get around to it,” he mused, thinking back to the time Sunoo had thrown a tantrum about Riki having never watched the classics of pop-culture. He and Chiara were probably the biggest movie enthusiasts he knew and when Sarah came into their lives, the three would discuss movies and plots like tomorrow would never come.

Oh, they were going to be over the moon if they ever had a conversation with Y/N.

“You should watch them, you know? Just to appreciate the direction. The movies are very beautiful,” her voice hiked up a notch as she tried convincing him and he could feel her gaze burning into his side. She leaned closer to him as she spoke and he let his chest fall into place when she leaned back.

“I’ll watch them,” he cracked a grin and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “Some day.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Y/N shook her head and looked out the window to hide her smile. She fiddled with her hands in her lap and occasionally pulled at the hem of her dress. “You’ve always been a tease.”

“Oh, I know,” he continued grinning.

“But seriously, please watch them,” she repeated. “I’ve made everyone I know watch them, you have to, too.”

“You made my sisters watch them?” He asked out of curiosity.

“Of course, I did,” she said and Riki was reminded of how Konon had mentioned watching the two movies a while back. It was rather a long time ago.

“I’ll watch them, I’ll watch them,” he said, nodding with determination.

Y/N hummed and nodded with him, her hair falling further in front of her face. She pulled her hair behind her back and tucked a few stray strands behind her ears. “You have a dance studio, yeah?” She asked.

“Yup,” Riki nodded with pride. “It brings in a lot of cash,” he grinned and briefly tore his gaze away from the road to lean closer to her, bringing his hand between their faces and rubbing his thumb against his pointer and middle finger to convey money.

“I can only assume so,” she said and looked around the interiors of his car. It was a rather expensive car, especially for someone his age to own. If Riki had to be honest, even he was surprised by the level of success he had achieved at such a young age. He was in a better position in his life than his older sister, which was saying a lot.

“Anyways,” Riki wet his bottom lips before continuing. “We’re going directly to your dorms, right?”

When Y/N didn't respond immediately, Riki looked at her and repeated his question with caution. He watched as her face contorted into embarrassment and her shy grin had him repeating his question again.

“Actually,” she started, bringing her voice down into a whisper. The nerves she felt in the airport resurfaced and she played with the hem of her dress. “The dorms don’t open until the evening for everyone to move in so… I kinda-”

“Don’t have a place to stay?” He finished for her, raising his brow in her direction from utter surprise and disappointment. He let out a groan and hung his head low before concentrating on the road again. He knew what he was going to do, he just wished his sister had given him more details- but in her defense, he was too adamant to ask. “Let’s just get you some breakfast first.”

Riki brought her to a restaurant he said was close to his apartment and her university. They have the best pizza in town hands down, he said and Y/N nodded along to whatever he said. The place he brought her too couldn’t even be ruled as a restaurant- it was a small space built into the side of a crumbling building and the pizza was made on a small metal table and had only two ovens. The tables for this place were scattered around the area- in all honesty, she didn’t know if the tables and chairs belonged to the pizza place or the park they were in.

Y/N had a list of places she wanted to visit in New York City. During her research, she heard various opinions on which restaurants served the best pizza but this place wasn’t mentioned anywhere. She supposed everyone had their own preferences and realized that this place was one of the city’s hidden gems after tasting a slice of pizza. She moaned with delight as she swallowed a bite, her eyes closing in bliss as the cheese melted in her mouth.

“Told you, didn’t I?” Riki wiggled his brows and had a bite of his own.

“I’ve never had pizza like this,” she exclaimed with wide eyes. “I love this city already.”

Riki chuckled, remembering he once said the same thing when he moved here. “Who wouldn’t,” he said. “But nothing can beat the sushi from the bistro across my house.”

“I ate there before going to the airport,” she said and Riki jealousy pouted at her. “I told the owner that I was going where you lived and she got so excited. She asks about you all the time.”

“God, I miss that place,” he shook his head and tilted his head towards the sky, letting nostalgia take over him. In the fourteen years that he lived in his neighborhood in Osaka, he made more memories than he could fathom. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t make memories in New York- no, his entire life was situated in this city now. But it amazed him how people he rarely thought about still remembered him.

“Nothing’s better than New York, though, right?” Y/N joked and bit a chunk off another slice.

On the drive back to his apartment, Riki stopped at his favorite coffee cart to get her a tall cup of coffee and she awed at the flavor in that too. She held the warm cup in her palms, close to her chest as he parked his car and led her to the elevator that led to the top floor of his apartment building. The walls of the building were brightly painted with new white paint and the doorways to some even had flower pots lining the entrances. Riki’s door, however, was empty with only a peephole and wasn’t lavishly decorated like everyone else’s. 

With her suitcase separating them, Riki fished out his keys from his pocket and opened his door. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes, fixing his shirt and throwing his keys onto the cupboard that stood right beside his door. When he finally lifted his head, however, he was met with the sight of Jake, Sunghoon and Jay sitting on the couch and chairs surrounding the coffee table in his living room with a few bottles of beer and a bag of chinese take away. Without saying a word, simply staring at them with wide eyes, Riki closed the door and turned around to face Y/N with an awkward smile. He held the door slightly open behind him, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Just one second,” he said to her and scurried into his house before she could say anything.

“What was that?” Jake asked, raising his brows and pointing at the door. He saw Y/N standing outside and he wondered if she had seen the three other men intruding in his living room.

“I should have never given you guys a key to my apartment,” he sighed and carded his fingers through his hair.

Sunghoon scoffed but he had on a smile and Jay raised his brows in feigned disappointment. “Hey, talk to your Hyungs with a bit of respect, yeah?” He pointed his finger at him as if he were scolding him but the action only earned a few chuckles from the group.

“Aren’t you all supposed to be working? What are you doing so early in my house? That too with beers,” he asked, pointing at the food and drinks on his table. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded it but this time, he was simply nervous because he had a guest over.

“It’s a Sunday, no one’s going to work this early,” Sunghoon reminded him.

“No one drinks this early either,” Riki retaliated, pointing at the beer in his hand.

“I do,” Sunghoon cracked him a grin and gulped down the rest of his beer. “You should know this by now.”

“Unfortunately,” Riki rolled his eyes, as did the other two. Sunghoon wasn’t an alcoholic, everyone amongst his friend group was aware of that. He could go days without drinking. But on days like these, when he didn’t have work to worry about, he would be the only person up for drinking, regardless of what time it was. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing in my house.”

“Nothing in particular,” Jay shrugged. “Just hadn’t seen your place in a while so we just came.”

“Didn’t think of leaving when I wasn’t here?”

“Well, why weren’t you here?” Sunghoon asked and Jake moved to play with a ketchup packet lying around the takeout. 

“I had to go pick someone up.”

“Oh, is that who’s behind the door?” Jay smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and indicating that it could perhaps be a new romantic venture of his. “The girl?”

“It’s a girl behind the door?” Jake’s interest peaked at the mention.

Riki rolled his eyes and shook his head again, looking to her feet and stepping around for a moment. “Just don’t be weird, alright? She’s gotta leave in a few hours so just… behave,” he warned and turned around to open the door, acknowledging their hums of understanding with a nod.

Riki opened the door to find Y/N shifting her weight between one leg to the other, her neck hunched as she rapidly typed away on her phone. When she heard the door clicking open, she put her phone in the pocket of her cardigan and returned his embarrassed smile. He told her to come in as he pulled in her suitcase and placed it in front of the cupboard beside his door.

“Guys,” he said, louder than he usually spoke. He placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulders, almost in a protective way. She couldn’t see the stinking glare he sent to the three in his living room. “This is Y/N. She’s going to be completing her masters in NYFA.”

The three waved at her and their greetings morphed into a single sound. She waved back and bowed in acknowledgment. 

“That’s Jay, Jake and Sunghoon, I’m sure you’ve heard of them,” Riki pointed his hand at the ones he was introducing and slowly guided Y/N into the living room by her shoulders. He dragged out a chair for her and she settled in it, looking between everyone in the room and Riki stood awkwardly with his hands in his back pocket. She ignored the way he swiftly switched from Japanese to English and while she was standing outside, she swore she heard him speak Korean

If Y/N were to be honest, she knew who these people were. She knew all the people in his friend group, including all the wives, girlfriends, fiances and kids because Sola would frequently show her the group pictures Riki had sent them and she would teach her the names of everyone until she remembered without making a mistake. She was sure she’d seen Jay a decade ago when they visited to talk to Riki’s family about moving to America. But she would never admit this fact to them, solely because she thought it made her creepy.

“So, are you two…?” Jake pointed between Riki and Y/N and his tone suggested a possible romance but Riki scrunched up his lips in disappointment and rolled his eyes.

“She’s my sister’s best friend,” Riki explained. “So, she’s like a sister to me, I’ve known her my whole life.”

“Oh, you’re her,” Jake crooned in realization and his face brightened with his smile. Y/N grinned at him, shrugging sheepishly. “We’ve heard about you.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s her,” Riki nodded with pursed lips and put his hands on his waist. His shirt, much too large for his frame, had bunched up under his palms. Then, he switched to Korean and he almost sounded angry, speaking as though he was in a hurry. “You guys gotta leave, man. She’s gonna be here until the evening and I’m probably going to help her move into her dorm. Tell Jungwon Hyung that I won’t make it to work today, yeah? Thanks.”

As he spoke in Korean, Jake, Sungoon and Jay got up and made their way towards the door before stopping and sharing a high-five or fist bump with Riki. They cordially bowed their goodbyes to Y/N and with groans and grumbles, they were out of his apartment. The door clicked shut behind them and his apartment felt bigger.

Y/N wasn’t sure how she imagined Riki’s apartment to be decorated but it definitely wasn’t what she was expecting. The walls were painted in white but most of his furniture was black- black couch, black dining table set and black chairs and coffee table. From what she could make out of the kitchen, the counters were some sort of black marble and the rest was white. He had a shelf across his couch, beside his television which was made of metal painted in black and it had a few Marvel figurines and potted cacti. Deeper into his house, she could see a beautiful view of New York City, roads mixing with buildings and yellow taxis standing out.

“You own this place?” She marveled.

“Yeah, I moved in very recently. My roommates got married so I thought I’d finally try living alone,” he explained as he settled on the couch. Slowly, he coaxed her to sit beside her and she cautiously moved.

“How’s it going for you?”

“I like it much better than I thought it would,” he grinned and tilted his head down so his bangs could cover his forehead. Then, he brought his hand up to fix and meddle with his hair again. “What do you wanna do for the rest of the day? We could go out? Or if you want, you can shower and sleep?”

“I think I want to sleep,” Y/N nodded and instinctively, she yawned and covered it with a fist in front of her mouth. Riki grinned at her and nodded. “Will you wake me up when it’s time for me to move?” Riki nodded and guided her towards his bedroom. 

At the time he bought his apartment, he didn’t see the significance in having a guest bedroom. He rarely had people in his house anyways- there was the one time everyone threw a house party for him and stayed up all night drinking and talking. The next morning, Riki forced everyone to clean up the mess in his house. That was when Jake bought him all the Marvel figurines and when Jungwon gave him the cacti. Jungwon and Sunoo would come over from time to time just to keep him company or to watch a movie. The rest would rarely come and if they did, it was only for some time. Riki preferred it that way, that his home was a place for his solitude.

Y/N disappeared into his room with her suitcase, saying that she’d shower first and then sleep. Riki walked backwards and collapsed on his couch again, his palms running down his face from a sudden wave of exhaustion. He simply sat there with the television on for the next few hours. He heard the water in his shower running for a few minutes and then silence followed so he assumed she must have slipped into bed. Netflix became boring so he moved scrolling through his phone before ultimately falling asleep on the couch himself.

When he woke up a few hours later, he saw Y/N sitting on the dining table in front of the kitchen, sipping a glass of water while staring at the screen of her laptop. She didn’t notice he was awake until he stood up and started stretching his arms and legs, soft groans escaping his throat as he pulled himself away from slumber.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up so early,” he said and sat in the chair across from her.

“Yeah, I think it's jet lag,” she pursed her lips. “And I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to your kitchen,” she cringed.

“Oh, no, please, make yourself at home,” Riki shook his head and hands to assure her and she smiled before bringing her attention back to her laptop. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Well, no,” she chuckled. “Do you?”

“No,” he chuckled with her and clasped his hands on the table. “So we have two options here,” he started.

Y/N’s interest piqued and she smirked, pushing her laptop and glass of water to the side. “And what are those?” She clasped her hands on the table, mimicking Riki.

“We could order lunch and sit around in my apartment until you have to leave,” he said. “Or, we could go out for lunch, catch up and burn some time.”

Y/N pretended to weigh her options, her finger on his chin as she tilted her head to the side in ponder before ultimately saying, “I say we go out.”

“Great!” Riki exclaimed and pushed his chair back as he got up. He walked towards the door and grabbed his coat while Y/N excitedly followed him, her phone gripped in her hand.

“I’d love some carbonara, right now,” she said and he promised to give her the best lunch she’s had in a decade.

He brought her to an Italian restaurant not too far from his apartment and her university. It was decorated rather minimalistically with a few paintings hung around each corner. He brought her to sit in the corner most booth, beside a window, because it had the best view and perfect amount of air conditioning. He told her how Jake and Chiara found this place a long time ago while they were still dating and spent a lot of their dates there. Through them, the location passed down between Riki and the rest of the group.

They ordered carbonara spaghetti and lasagne with gelato on the side and mostly talked about their childhood. They reminisced on the vacations they went on as kids and how she used to sleep over at his house all the time. He confessed that she and Sola were a pain in the ass when they were together and Y/N agreed, saying that their mothers were lucky they weren’t born as sisters instead.

As they were finishing their gelato, Riki asked about what she planned on doing in the future. She told him that she wanted to direct a movie one day and become as renowned as her favorite director. She already had a few ideas brewing in her head, a few drafts for potential scripts saved on her desktop. For her first film, though, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to direct a contemporary film or a mainstream one that would hopefully become a critic’s favorite and win a few awards.

Riki laughed and said, “you have high hopes.”

Y/N shrugged and said, “a girl can always dream.”

After lunch, Riki drove her up and down a few streets to introduce her to the neighborhood. He even drove her around her university so she could get a quick glance of what the buildings looked like. When the time finally came, he parked his car near her dorm and helped her with her suitcase and bag. She was probably the first person to show up to get settled into her room, which meant that she had the comfort of unpacking alone with Riki without having the awkwardness of meeting her roommates. 

It was a room for three and the beds were built in such a way that the mattress would be above a flight of stairs with their desks underneath. Within an hour or so, she had all her belongings put away in the places she needed them to be and hung up a few movie posters. After her suitcase was empty, she climbed up the stairs and collapsed onto her bed and laughed along with Riki. He was tall enough to be able to see her just by stretching his neck a little and his height almost startled her. 

He asked her if she wanted him to stay with him for a little longer but Y/N checked her watch and said, “no, I think people are gonna start coming in soon and I wouldn’t want to bother you more.”

“Trust me, Y/N, you’re not being a bother,” Riki assured her but he left anyway and told her to give him updates on how her roommates turned out to be and whether her first day of college went well. She promised him that she would and Riki left her dorm and drove to Jake and Chiara’s house for Sunday night dinner (there was still time for dinner but he figured he’d get there early because he was free for the rest of the day).

THE FIRST FEW MONTHS of college could only be described as surreal- nothing Y/N had expected to experience when she first made the big decision to study in NYFA. There was something about New York that she could not box into a definition- she felt both small and infinitely expansive in the concrete jungle. New York didn’t just exist- it performed. When Y/N took a sociology class in under-graduation, she was taught that the word performance didn’t necessarily have to denote positivity and talent. Gender was a painful performance, for example, and so was religion. But New York… oh, New York City performed without purpose, yet it was performing towards history.

Every train screech was a score. Every flicker of neon on rain-slicked streets was cinematography. Her first month in the master’s program felt like being dropped into a Wong Kar-wai film, except she was the one writing it, camera slung across her shoulder, coffee in hand, mind in three timelines at once. Her vision blurred with rose-colored glasses that made sunsets more colorful, traffic more enjoyable and late night classes more memorable. She got used to finding beauty in places that were nothing like home- old Korean women selling roses on the corner, a Black gospel choir rehearsing in the park, a Hasidic father tying his son’s shoelaces with one hand and reading Torah with the other.

Her film classes were like therapy sessions disguised as lectures. Professors asked questions like, “What does your favorite shot say about your childhood?” and nobody laughed because they were all a little emotionally raw from the 1940s Italian neorealism screening the night before. They watched Iranian cinema in total silence and then tore it apart like scholars, artists, and insomniacs all in one breath. She wrote scripts in cafés with broken chairs and made short films in borrowed basements with actors she met at 2 am parties in Chinatown. Every day, something unpredictable happened- her professor once scrapped an entire lecture to screen a bootleg Soviet animation reel because “you’ll never understand surrealism through words.” And then suddenly she was dissecting Bollywood’s influence on diasporic identity in a seminar that smelled like burnt coffee and wet coats.

Culture oozed through every crack in the sidewalk. One day she stumbled into a Tamil film festival and left questioning everything she thought she knew about pacing. Another, she ended up at a protest-turned-performance-art-piece in Washington Square, where a girl painted her body with film negatives and screamed about censorship in Myanmar. 

She kept changing. Faster than she could process. She became someone who could talk about Tarkovsky and TikTok in the same sentence. Someone who found metaphors in puddles and planned shots while brushing her teeth. She missed home, of course- but even that homesickness became a scene.

There were long nights in editing rooms, where the hum of machines kept her company. She started filming the city- not the postcard skyline, but its teeth. The peeling walls in bodegas, the way steam rose from manholes like ghosts, the poetry of strangers on fire escapes. She learned that storytelling wasn’t always beautiful- it was about tension, decay, intimacy. She once shot a silent piece about grief that made her TA cry. She kept the voicemail he left afterward.

Every day felt like an unfinished film. Rough cuts of people, sudden plot twists, shaky focus. But god, it was art.

Y/N also met people like characters that jumped out of novels and films she was too scared to watch.

There was Noah, who called Kubrick overrated just to start fights, and Juniper, who only shot in Super 8 and lived in a loft that smelled like lavender and old film reels. There was Marcel, who studied sculpture and only wore linen; he once made a bust of her nose because he said it reminded him of something “ancient and tragic.” Then there was Asma, who wore rings on every finger and spoke four languages, and who dragged Y/N to jazz clubs in Harlem and poetry readings in Brooklyn where everyone drank too much red wine and clapped like it meant salvation. Y/N would find herself at rooftop screenings, warehouse festivals, and film collectives where everyone sat on the floor and shared blunts like communion.

She called Sola less, but not out of neglect- just that time stretched weirdly in New York. Everything was happening all at once. And it all mattered. Conversations with her family and friends consisted of a selectively curated set of pictures from everyday that she spent out in the city, doing something new and unheard of- waters untouched, unexplored. Her parents would tell her to be careful as she was in a new city; Sola would send her voice messages of how she was jealous and miserable working at the desk job her parents found for her. 

“Did you become an alcoholic?”

“You bought newclothes?”

“That short film you sent us was beautiful, It’s got to be my favourite.”

“Your voice sounds different- your accent is changing.”

YN loved her concern, loved the way she noticed even the slightest change in octave of her voice or color in her skin.

In all the chaos and unfolding that Y/N’s life was, somewhere down the line- the line filled with used film rolls and unfinished scripts- she had forgotten about Riki and her promise of keeping in touch with him. They had gone back to becoming strangers, only a few texts sent his way every two months or late responses if he was checking up on her. As usual, Sola was giving her updates about everyone through text, or calls or voicemails- long, terribly long voicemails that Y/N would stay up to listen to even if she were on the verge of dying from a hangover.

Riki, on the other hand, had started to forget about Y/N, too. He would still try to check up on her, sending her a text here and there but would only get a response weeks later. He had gone back to asking Sola about her and learning about her through secondhand. He would find himself scrolling through the myriad of pictures she would send on the big family group chat they had now, consisting of his family and Y/N’s family that they created around the first month of Y/N’s classes starting. Looking at those pictures, he found no need to worry about her. He found no need to keep the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, realising that the pair silently agreed upon a sort of mutual forgetting.

But he just couldn’t help himself.

Sometimes, when the studio emptied out early and the speakers still buzzed from the last song, Riki would open that group chat again. Not to say anything. Just to scroll. There would be a photo of Y/N on a rooftop, squinting into the sun, a coffee cup half-off the ledge like it didn’t know it was supposed to fall. Another one of her with some friend he didn’t know, maybe someone from her program. They always had complicated hair and thick boots. 

There were times he’d type out a whole message. A “saw someone who looked like you today” or a “you’d hate this new kid’s music taste”- but then he’d just... delete it. Not because it was sad, but because it didn’t feel urgent anymore. Eventually, the urge to message her died along with passing time. 

Still, every now and then, when she would respond out of nowhere, he would get excited and a knot he didn’t know he had in his chest would untangle and he would be filled with a sense of relief. A short voice note, her voice scratchy from lack of sleep, saying something like, “Riki, I saw this dancer today who reminded me of you. Except he was terrible.” And he’d laugh. Because it meant she still remembered him in motion. Not in memory, not in stills. But in the way he moved.

He never told her, but he played those voice notes more than once. Usually when the rain hit the windows sideways and the studio smelled like old wood and something close to longing. He never told her and probably never would but he had saved some of his favorite pictures of her onto his gallery and would show his friends later, let them scroll through her instagram that was now flooded with stills of New York and her film classes in NYFA.

Jungwon and Eva had a habit of asking him about her when things in the studio got boring. His older Hyungs had a habit of bringing her up during dinners at Jake and Chiara’s. “How is she?” “What is she doing now?” “Have you spoken to her?” “Are we ever gonna meet her?” And the only thing he had to offer them was a shake of his head or a shrug conveying that he really didn’t know. He couldn’t even predict what she would be doing- probably filming something in some dangerously abandoned street with a crew behind her or exploring a historically relevant dinner that even Riki would have never heard about.

One day, Sunoo told them about how a colleague of his gifted him tickets to a local play that was happening downtown- low budget, unknown actors, full of potential and fresh content. So, Riki, Karina, Heeseung, Sarah, Chiara and Jay tagged along with Sunoo to watch. He led them down a shady alley, he himself scared and wary of what Google maps was directing them because no way a play can be held in such rotten conditions, as Karina said.

The alley looked like it hadn’t seen light in over a decade. If they were in the world of Disney’s Lion King, this area would be under Scar’s jurisdiction- all the land that light didn’t touch. Graffiti art layered the walls- some political and some poetic. And it wasn’t one of those murals that looked beautifully messy- it simply looked messy, threatening almost. Rusted fire escapes sprawled above them, casting shadows that resembled broken piano tiles onto the uneven pavement they were cautiously padding on.

A trash can was tipped over near the corner and Chiara nearly stepped on a rat that darted across their path. “Never thought I’d see this side of the city,” she muttered, hugging her coat tighter around her. 

Jay laughed nervously. “We’re either about to watch a play or get mugged.”

Sunoo stopped in front of a building- a squat, crumbling thing with vines growing from the roof and a crooked door that looked like it hadn’t been touched in a few years- like it had been locked with some sort of spiritual haunting rumours. He stared at the map on his phone, dumbstruck at the location he led everyone to. The group stopped abruptly behind him, almost bumping into him at his sudden stop in motion.

Heeseung peered over Sunoo’s shoulder to look at his phone screen. “Is this the place?”

“The ticket says so,” Sunoo grumbled under his breath, retrieving the stack of tickets from his jacket pocket and waving them around everyone’s vision.

“Hyung, are you sure you haven’t been scammed?” Riki, with his boxy and skeptical grin, peaked his head out from behind everyone. 

Karina, now clung onto her husband’s arm, rolled her eyes in an attempt to ease her nerves. Heeseung held her hand in comfort. “Just open the door. Sunoo did say it was cheap.”

Because no one else was willing to, Riki pushed the door open first. It creaked- of course it creaked- and for a moment, all they saw was a dim, narrow hallway lit by a single, flickering candle.

And then, the hallway opened.

It was like stepping into another world- like they walked into Narnia’s closet. Inside, the theatre was glowing. High, arched ceilings painted in soft gold, deep red velvet curtains, chandeliers that looked like they’d been pulled out of a time capsule, casting a warm glow over the room. The walls were covered in intricate molding, the kind that spiraled like vines and told stories if you stared long enough. Everything smelled like old books and candle wax and something sweet, like caramel popcorn.

A grand staircase split into two directions leading to a balcony, and scattered around the lobby were mismatched chairs, couches and old film posters framed like art. There was a man in a suit two sizes too big handing out paper programs at the front and a small sign that read “DO NOT MISS OUT” in bold red against white.

Heeseung let out a low whistle. “This is not what I was expecting.”

And Riki, standing just a little behind them all, looked around and thought- not for the first time that week- that New York never ceased to take his breath away.

The group found themselves taking over the dusty and abandoned couches on the balcony, closest to the theatre as they could get. Karina and Heeseung occupied a two seater, as did Chiara and Sarah. Sunoo, Jay and Riki cramped themselves on a velvet green three seater, making themselves comfortable by adjusting their coats and hair. Eventually, Riki leaned back, not knowing when the play was about to start. Sunoo and Jay read through the paper program.

“What is this play about, by the way?” Riki asked, bouncing his foot and resting a hand on the back of his head.

“I’m not really sure,” Jay said under his breath, looking at the pamphlet back and forth in perplexion. “I think it’s some retelling of an old Chinese myth?”

The lights around them turned off dramatically and the stage glowed in front of them. Behind the curtains, a man appeared- probably a college student- and introduced the story of the play. As he walked off the stage, the curtains rose and the crowd clapped. Riki followed, not entirely sure of what drama etiquette consisted of.

The play was a reimagining of The Peony Pavilion, but not in the traditional, heavy-opera kind of way. The stage was stripped down- just a gauzy maze of hanging fabric panels, lit with projections that shifted from cityscapes to watery forests to flashes of old handwritten love letters. The characters wore layered modern hanfu in muted tones, their movements fluid and dreamlike, more like contemporary dance than blocking. The dialogue slipped between Mandarin and English, sometimes spoken, sometimes whispered like thoughts spilling out mid-dream. 

The story unfolded slowly: a young woman dreams of a man she's never met, falls deeply in love with him, then wakes to find that nothing in the real world compares. She withers from longing until their love crosses realms- until he appears, inexplicably, and they’re reunited.

The group stayed surprisingly still throughout. Sarah, as expected, was engrossed in the plot, whispering to Chiara about its historical significance. Karina and Heeseung munched on the popcorn that was being sold by a boy walking around with a tray. Jay stopped fidgeting and Sunoo watched with wide eyes and parted lips of awe.

And Riki- Riki was caught off guard by how much it got to him. He wasn’t even following every word, but the feeling was unmistakable. That yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore- or maybe never did- hit somewhere deep in his chest. He sat there, arms folded, brow slightly furrowed, trying to pretend he wasn’t completely absorbed. But when the final scene faded and the stage lights dimmed, he realized he’d forgotten to blink. It wasn’t about the characters. It was about what it meant to miss something imaginary. And to know it still changed him anyway.

He didn’t realise the lights turned back on until the crowd erupted into applause. Confused, he looked around like he didn’t know which world he was in, standing up to clap the way everyone around him was. He blinked profusely as the curtains closed, almost flinching when he heard Jay hollering and Heeseung using his fingers to whistle.

“That was by far one of my favourite plays I’ve been to,” Sarah announced. 

“Shame everyone else missed it,” Heeseung commented.

“Seriously, they missed out,” Sunoo nodded, a hand on his chin, still recovering from the drama he had just stood witness to.

“Why don’t we come to watch plays more often?” Jay asked.

As Sarah went into a rant about always having to drag Sunghoon to such plays because no one else was free and Karina laughed at her frustration over a very predictable Sunghoon, the group started walking away. Conversation rumbled amongst them as Riki silently followed, struggling to find his way out of the maze of couches and chairs and staying with his group, apart from the rest of the crowd.

But then, when he heard a voice- a voice so familiar and distinct- echo from the speakers, he stopped in his tracks. He head snapped to the side, letting his ear catch more of this voice that he had already placed a face to. But just to be sure- just to assure himself that he wasn’t hallucinating from the irony and allegory of the play, he ran towards the edge of the balcony and gripped onto the railings.

Standing on stage, in front of the velvet curtains with her hands behind her back and a headset to her mouth, was Y/N. Beside her stood a couple more people, all stared starry-eyed and smiles filled with pride at the crowd. As Y/N continued speaking, more people started spilling out from behind the curtains- probably the cast and rest of the crew- to stand with them, clapping from exhaustion and ecstasy.

“We’re proud to say that this was the very first production by our NYFA batch,” Y/N said, voice steady but eyes shining. There was a softness to her tone, like she still couldn’t quite believe it herself. “And I had the honour of directing this piece alongside some of the most creative, chaotic, sleep-deprived people I’ve ever met.” That got a few laughs from the crew beside her. She glanced at them briefly before looking back out into the crowd again. “Tonight was months of writing, re-writing, filming rehearsals, surviving on black coffee and instant noodles. And somehow… It worked. I think it really worked.” Her smile faltered for half a second, as if the weight of it all just hit her, then grew again- calmer now, like she’d let herself breathe. “Thank you for showing up. Really. We couldn’t have done it without an audience willing to step into something a little weird and unfamiliar. I hope you carry it with you, even just a little.”

More applause. The cast around her clapped again, some cheering softly. One of them wiped tears off her cheeks and sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her costume.

Riki didn’t clap. Couldn’t move, actually. All he could do was stare and listen.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Jay asked. The rest of the group had materialised beside him, watching the girl Riki had shown a sudden interest in.

“Yeah.”

Beside him, he could hear Karina letting out a small gasp and slapping Heeseung’s arm in disbelief.

“Is there any way we can go meet her?” Chiara offered.

The group shuffled out of the theatre slowly, trying to be subtle even as Jay whispered, “I feel like we’re crashing a cast party,” to which Sunoo replied, “We kind of are.”

They creeped down a narrow hallway that smelled like old velvet and hairspray, the paint chipping slightly on the doors. A sleepy intern in all black waved them through after Chiara charmingly name-dropped Sunoo’s colleague and whispered something about them being donors- which was a lie, but the intern didn’t question it, mostly because he recognised Chiara as a model, Heeseung as a producer and Karina as a singer.

The backstage area was smaller than expected, filled with half-open costume trunks and water bottles balanced on music stands. People milled around, hugging and laughing, some still half in costume. And then- there she was.

Y/N stood a little apart from the crowd, talking to a techie in a headset, laughing over something on a clipboard. Her hair was pulled back, a sheen of sweat still visible on her temple, and she looked tired in that good way. The way you only look after doing something impossible and getting away with it.

Riki didn’t move. The others hesitated behind him, sensing something shift in the air.

She turned because someone called her name from behind the group, not expecting anything more than another crew member.

And then her eyes landed on him.

Y/N’s reaction consisted of a wide, welcoming smile, one that only beamed of happiness and comfort. She made her way towards him, pushing through the crowd squeezing her way past heaps of set pieces and costumes and finally, she stood in front of him, fidgeting with her clipboard and wiping strands of hair off her sweaty forehead.

Riki, however, was not as calm as her. He felt like the entire play had been a prelude- like he hadn’t come to watch the performance, but he’d come to see her. His heart was thudding against his chest like after a particularly tiresome dance class and he could feel his throat drying up. He simply blinked at her as she stared up at him, doe-eyed and excited like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Riki-kun,” she acknowledged. “I saw you sitting in the balcony, actually. I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating.”

“Yes…” Riki trailed, clearing his throat. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Except, he chose that moment to let his thoughts drown him. She looked different- she’d cut her hair to have more layers, her choice of jewellery looked out of the norm, her words were filled with more confidence and, in fact, her accent had changed. 

Jay, sensing the struggle of the youngest of the group, leaned forward to make himself existent in their moment. “Y/N, I’m Jay,” he extended his hand towards her. Y/N obliged, her smile never leaving her face. “We’ve met before.”

“Yes, I remember, good to see you again,” she beamed.

And just like that, everyone else started introducing themselves, too. One by one, they moved toward her- smiling, praising, teasing gently like they hadn’t just been strangers five minutes ago. The quiet secret of Riki’s affection hung loosely between them, unspoken but fully understood, carried in the way they watched her, in the softness of their voices when they said her name. Y/N, unaware, accepted it all with a kind of nervous grace, her eyes bright and her hands fidgeting at her sides as they told her how much they loved the play.

She nodded through compliments like she didn’t quite believe them, surprised by the way these people- celebrities, professionals, people she’d only ever heard about- were now calling her work beautiful. She told Chiara that she was a big fan of her work, Heeseung and Karina that she listened to their music all the time. They even promised to get a picture with her later. She then continued to praise Sunoo’s work in the cosmetics industry and asked how Jay’s business was going.

Riki stayed where he was, a few steps behind. He watched her move from person to person like she belonged in that space, like she’d built it and grown into it and left the version of herself he knew far behind. And yet, nothing about her felt distant. Everything about her still pulled at something deep and quiet inside him.

When the rest of the group pulled away as a cue for Riki to take over again, he felt stiff. He stepped closer to Y/N, awkwardly hanging the height of his presence around her as she struggled to look up at him. “The play was beautiful, I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you, Riki,” Y/N cracked him a shy grin. “Can’t wait to tell Sola and Konon about it.”

“I’m sure they’ll be very proud,” Riki offered. Then, he moved to rubbing the back of his neck, letting his hair fall on his forehead. “How’ve you been? You’ve barely kept in touch.”

“So busy,” Y/N laughed, not realizing the weight of his question. “It’s just… been a lot, as you can see,” she vaguely referred to the chaos unravelling around her- people still trying to get out of their costumes, speakers and tubs of mics being escorted out and suitcases of costumes being rolled into oblivion.

“Yes,” Riki cleared his throat again, finally letting his eyes meet her gaze for the first time that night. Even her eyes looked different, reflecting a certain hope he hadn’t seen the day he picked her up from the airport and dropped her off to her dorm. 

“I’m really sorry, though,” she said, but it wasn’t a weighted apology. She said it in passing, acknowledging that she was probably in the wrong, still high over the success of the night that she didn’t even notice him being weird and out of character. “For not keeping in touch. I know you asked me to-”

“No, that’s really alright,” Riki quickly pulled back, waving his hands in front of him as if the gesture would make the situation seem insignificant- like he hadn’t been holding onto the thought of her like a piece of loose threat on the verge of snapping off a sweater. He was scared he would unravel if that threat ever snapped. Riki who was always aloof, poised and nonchalant was now stuttering and stumbling for words over a girl- that too, the last person he expected. “Maybe you could come over again, some time. We could catch up over a meal.”

Y/N acknowledged this offer without any sense of tension or second-guessing. To her, it was a family friend calling her to hang out- her best friend’s brother, practically her own brother who she had once shared everything with and watched her grow up. To her, he was simply someone who cared about her because they'd known each other for practically their whole lives. It was simple, innocent, cordial even. To Riki, on the other spectrum, it was a plea of longing, a desperate shot in the dark to somehow get her in his life. He didn’t realise how much he’d yearned for her in her absence until she was there again, standing in front of him in all her glory.

FINDING A DAY WHEN both were free and willing for lunch was like trying to catch fireflies in cupped hands. When they were younger, Konon would drag Riki, Sola and Y/N into their backyard during summer nights when the fireflies came in swarms, painting the dark in flickers of gold. The air would be thick with humidity and grass, and the garden- overgrown and imperfect- became something close to a dream. They’d run barefoot over uneven stones and patches of clover, chasing the tiny lights with cupped hands, their laughter tangled with the distant sound of cicadas. Back then, catching fireflies felt easy in their juvenile energy. Now, it felt like a feat. It was possible, maybe, but barely.

Riki was always at the studio, running rehearsals, reviewing new choreo, or getting pulled into whatever spontaneous plan Sunghoon had cooked up that week for the group- karaoke at 1 am, skating on some rooftop rink, new ramen place in Queens he swore was life-changing. And Y/N was swallowed whole by her schedule- classes, late-night editing sessions, freelance gigs she took to make allowance, meetings about future projects that might not even exist yet. Her days bled into each other. Mornings disappeared into subway rides and nights into blank Final Draft documents blinking back at her.

Their texts were more like receipts than conversations. “Can’t do Tuesday.” “Maybe next week.” “Shit, forgot to reply. You alive?” They missed each other in passing, like trains on opposite tracks. Close enough to see, never long enough to stop.

As a desperate attempt, he invited her to celebrate his birthday with him- December 9th, at a restaurant on the Lower East Side like his friends planned every year. Just something small, something casual. But she couldn’t make it. She had a major paper to present that day- something she'd been prepping for all month, apparently. She apologized profusely over text, promised she would make it up to him, and sent him a sweet, thoughtful birthday message instead. Riki, mid-celebration- caught in the noise of a joint party they threw every year for him and Sunghoon, whose birthday landed just the day before- stared at the message for longer than he should have. The music was loud, the laughter even louder, but for a moment, all he could hear was her absence.

When Riki mentioned their technical difficulties to his friends, Chiara casually offered to host Y/N at one of their usual Sunday dinners. At first, he smiled, nodded like he’d think about it- but later, the idea sat heavy with him. Those dinners weren’t always just dinners. They were reserved for introductions- a new partner, a milestone, the kind of announcement that meant something had shifted. To bring Y/N there, like that, felt dangerous. Not because it would be obvious, but because it might not be. Because she wasn’t a new chapter. She was something older, deeper, threaded through his whole life. And he didn’t know how she’d take it. Would she think he was making it into something it wasn’t? Would she smile politely and pull away afterward? The thought of placing her in that space- his space- felt like tipping a balance he wasn’t ready to name. And yet, a part of him wanted her there anyway, just for the sake of it, just for the curiosity of how the night would turn out to be.

Then, the holidays came around, at a weird time. They had classes and exams during Christmas and New Year’s, ridding them of the experience of New York during the holidays. They couldn’t even go to the Time Square’s New Year’s countdown because they were begrudgingly finishing up work. To keep their Christmas spirit alive, some of them participated in secret santa and through it, Y/N was gifted a cheap night lamp that was shaped like a reindeer. Her phone filled with wishes from her family and friends, telling her that they missed her and that it sucked that she was away. Then, there was a text from Riki, wishing her a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. The family group chat poured with pictures of their respective celebrations- her parents with Riki’s family, Riki with his big group of friends in fancy clothes. 

Y/N sent them a picture of her editing software and a huge pile of unedited script.

The second exams got over, one by one, everyone started flying home or disappearing into weekend trips and reunions. Noah, Juniper, and Marcel left for a fishing trip upstate, and Asma flew back to Turkey to see her family. Y/N had planned to return to Japan too, but by the time she started checking flights, everything decent was either sold out or wildly overpriced. Whether it was bad luck or just bad timing- likely the latter- she ended up stuck in her dorm, quietly resigning herself to a depressing winter break alone.

When her parents found out, they reached out to Riki’s family- who, in perfect Nishimura-family fashion, turned it into a group operation. The news made its way to Riki through three separate calls: first from his parents, then from Sola, and finally Konon, each delivering the same message with varying degrees of urgency.

By the time Konon called, Riki was already half-laughing. Not at Y/N, but at how quickly the family machinery kicked into motion, like some ancient ritual.

“It’s only a few weeks,” Konon had said flatly, like she wasn’t already planning what meals to prepare.

“I know,” Riki had replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I’d known earlier, I would’ve brought her home by now. I just didn’t know.”

And maybe that’s what unsettled him the most- not knowing. Not realizing how easily she would have slipped through the cracks. 

Before the day could even end, with Riki’s parents and sisters breathing down his neck (via a very active family group call), Y/N was already stuffing clothes into a small suitcase and Riki was hauling her back to his apartment like it hadn’t all been decided hours ago. There wasn’t much discussion- just a series of texts and calls that became instructions, and suddenly, there they were, tumbling into the elevator of her dorm, laughing about how aggressively loving their families could be.

The car ride was short, but it was filled with that kind of easy laughter that only came when things have already been decided for you. They joked about Sola’s threatening tone, Konon’s fake indifference, his mom’s voice getting unusually high-pitched when she insisted that Y/N not spend even a second of the break alone. Everything felt strangely light, comical, inevitable.

And beneath the jokes, somewhere between the suitcase rattling in the backseat and the sound of Y/N’s laugh catching in his throat- Riki realized he wouldn’t have it any different. 

As they scrambled into his apartment, still laughing, their conversation slipped easily into the past- stories from a childhood that felt both distant and immediate. They remembered running down to the beach barefoot, racing each other until they couldn’t breathe, the sun setting behind them like a reward. They talked about sleepovers in makeshift blanket forts with his sisters, the way they’d huddle close during horror films, half-hiding behind pillows but still peeking through- until a jump scare sent popcorn flying everywhere. Then there were the winters when they’d sneak out just to buy popsicles, convinced that cold sweets in cold weather were a kind of rebellion- only for one of them to catch a fever and give the whole mission away to their parents. They looked back to all the things they couldn’t when they last met- when he picked her up from the airport and took her to lunch.

One moment, she felt so far away- out of reach- like Riki was chasing after the string of a kite that had flown too close to the sun. Then the next, she was on his couch, in his apartment, laughing at something he said, ranting about her studies, or listening to him unravel the details of his life- the way New York had etched itself deeper into him than he’d expected. They didn’t leave that couch for the rest of the day and meals were forgotten, time slipped past unnoticed. Their bodies settled into the grey fabric like it had always known them. They moved only to shift positions, to toss a cushion between stories, to stretch their legs into each other’s space. And in that stillness, they explored the separate, strange, and beautiful lives they were living- exchanging stories that felt too cinematic to be true, like they belonged to someone else, or maybe to two versions of themselves they hadn’t yet met.

With a racing heart and anxiety masked behind his boxy smile, the tips of Riki’s fingers slid across the skin of her calf. At some point in their long, winding conversation, her legs had stretched out behind him, and now he sat at the edge- of the couch, of the moment, of something he couldn’t quite name. She didn’t react. Or maybe she did, but chose not to show it. Or maybe she felt it and simply didn’t mind. So he kept going, slow and careful, his fingers tracing gentle, aimless lines up and down, like he was trying to memorize something without drawing attention to it. His arm rested loosely over the headrest, body angled toward hers, but his eyes never strayed from her face. She was beaming, mid-story, animatedly recalling how she first met Noah. 

Y/N met Noah in their first semester film production class, the kind where half the students already acted like they were nominated for Oscars and the other half hadn’t held a camera before. The professor- who had the energy of a retired rockstar and spoke only in metaphors- assigned everyone into random groups and told them to create a two-minute scene using only natural light, diegetic sound, and their intuition. Whatever that meant. Y/N ended up with Noah, who showed up twenty minutes late with iced coffee, sunglasses, and a small duffel bag labeled “emergency props.”

They were supposed to set up a shot using a vintage camera rig and a complex array of wires, clamps, and one massive studio light that was borrowed from the “do not touch without signing a waiver” corner of the equipment room. It was during this setup that the inevitable happened. Noah was on the ladder adjusting the light while Y/N tried to connect cables she didn’t fully understand. A misplaced elbow, a slightly-too-fast swivel, and a moment of mutual confusion later- one of the campus’s most expensive studio lights crashed to the ground with the force of divine punishment.

No one saw it happen. Or rather, no one knew who did it. The group next to them looked up, startled. Someone gasped. The professor looked like he’d just seen his childhood home burn down. But by the time anyone pointed fingers, Y/N and Noah were already mid-performance, feigning shock and concern like seasoned criminals in a soap opera. They never confessed. They just silently agreed, from that day forward, that the light broke itself. The real tragedy, they claimed, was that they couldn’t finish their scene because of the incident.

And that’s how they became friends- not because they were alike, but because no one else would survive being in a group project with them more than once.

“What would happen if they found out it was you guys?”

“Don’t even say that, my entire life savings couldn’t pay off the penalty fee.”

Then, upon Y/N’s request for a story from his life with his friends, Riki began narrating the infamous tale of Sunoo and Sheila’s secret wedding- a story that, to this day, still made Chiara’s voice rise an octave when it was brought up. It had happened not long before Y/N’s arrival in New York. One quiet Tuesday, Sunoo and Sheila vanished for a few hours in the middle of the day. No one thought much of it. The next morning, Sunoo casually dropped the news into the group chat like he was sharing a new skincare product recommendation.

They had gotten married. Legally. Quietly. Without anyone present. Just a courthouse, a bouquet of daffodils from a street vendor, and a blurry selfie that looked like it had been taken between dental appointments. The group exploded. Not because they weren’t happy- of course they were- but because there were no announcements, no warnings, no hints. The group was livid, especially Chiara- not because she felt the need to be a part of every milestone of everyone’s life. No, it was because Sheila was her best friend, and she’d been robbed of her rightful title as maid of honor. She sulked for a few days, childlike pettiness extending to Sheila and Sunoo- it was bordering comical, bordering unseriousness, but everyone could tell how hurt she was. 

Jungwon, while less vocal, was equally heartbroken. Years ago- years ago- before Jake’s wedding, they had all drawn chits from a hat to declare who would be whose best man in the future. Jungwon had gotten Sunoo. It was sacred. It was binding. It was, as Jungwon said with deep sincerity, the one thing in this world I had a guaranteed role in.

So, to restore balance in the universe, they decided to throw a fake wedding. Because of course they did.

Sunoo and Sheila’s apartment became the venue. Chiara showed up in a satin gown and Jungwon wore a navy suit with a boutonnière made out of paperclips and rosemary from Eva’s windowsill. Jay brought candles he found on sale at a novelty store. Heeseung printed out fake vows, poured wine into mismatched teacups, and stood beneath a party store arch decorated with twinkle lights and string beans (because that’s all they had left in the fridge) to officiate the fake wedding. Sunghoon showed up late carrying a Bluetooth speaker, playing Clair de Lune like it was the most romantic thing in the world. There was no aisle, no seating chart, no real audience- just a chaotic, intimate group of people who wanted to honor something that had already happened.

Chiara shone with happiness as she read out the maid of honor speech she had written for Sheila when they were still in high school (as Sheila did for Chiara’s wedding, as well, all those years ago), innocent and uncertain of what marriage and love meant. Jungwon gave a best man toast that sounded more like a TED Talk on friendship and commitment, complete with a pie chart he drew on the back of a pizza box. At one point, Sunoo whispered that this might be better than the real thing- and everyone pretended not to hear him choke up.

They danced. They played bad rom-com soundtracks on shuffle. Heeseung kept fake-pronouncing them husband and wife over and over in different accents. Someone spilled wine on the rug, and no one even cared. It was a wedding in spirit, but it felt more real than most actual ones. Because this was how they loved each other- loud, messy, dramatic, and all in.

Y/N was crying by the end of the story. She pictured the whole thing like a fever dream turned indie short film: fake florals, stolen candles, half-drunk toasts, and Sunghoon flinging a bouquet of bunched-up napkins out the window like it was tradition. And in the middle of it all, Sunoo and Sheila- beaming, barefoot in their own living room, surrounded by the only people who ever really mattered.

Meanwhile Riki was telling it all like it was nothing, like it was just another Tuesday with his people.

“You got so lucky,” Y/N said under her breath, wiping away stray tears with the sleeve of her sweater. “These are such amazing people.” Y/N was sure she’d seen pictures of that night, one’s Sola must have shown her when she was still in Japan, packing about worrying about her student VISA. She vaguely remembered it- Sola telling Y/N about an intimate wedding and showing her grainy pictures that were taken under the light of the moonlight and a few candles scattered across the room.

Riki leaned closer to her, his hand now covering the span of her calf, wondering if he should reach out to her cheek and comfort her. He doesn’t, though, acknowledging that this wasn’t supposed to be a moment- it was simply Y/N, a writer and director in the making, feeling the emotions of a love-story narrated. 

“Liked the story that much, huh?” Riki chuckled, tutting and shaking his head.

“So, you and Sunghoon are the only two people unmarried?” She asked as clarification.

Riki nodded. “But Sunghoon and Sarah are going strong, though,” he paused, lifting a brow in thought. “I think they’ve been together almost two years? Maybe more? That’s a story for another day,” he waved it off, shaking his head again.

“Have you been a best man yet?” She continued, patting off patches of wetness from her cheeks.

“I’m supposed to be Sunghoon’s best man, actually,” he grinned. “And he better make it happen soon. I’ve got plans.”

“Embarrassing him?”

“Embarrassing him.”

The pair fell into a bout of laughter, the one that had them squinting their eyes and leaning into each other with their teeth in display. It felt intimate, personal- so unlike them. But it was starting to feel nice, like it was something they were supposed to be used to.

“So,” she started again, in between giggles. “Who is whose best man?”

Riki took in a sharp breath, looking up as if searching his memory, preparing to list them out with his fingers. “I am supposed to be Sunghoon’s,” he exhaled. “Sunghoon was Jake’s. Jake was Heeseung’s. Heeseung was Jay’s. Jay was Jungwon’s. Jungwon was Sunoo’s. And Sunoo is supposed to be mine.”

“Wow,” she nodded, letting out a breath of awe. “When do you plan on getting married, Riki-kun?” She teased, wiggling her brows that made him spit out his breath and throw his head back in laughter.

“Shut up.”

They fell into a rhythm without even meaning to. During Y/N’s winter break, Riki’s apartment quietly morphed into something like a shared home. Some nights he took the couch, sprawled out with one arm slung over his eyes and a throw blanket he wouldn’t admit wasn’t enough, while Y/N took the bedroom. Other nights, it flipped- her curled on the couch with her laptop warming her legs and Riki tucked under his duvet like he lived there alone. It was unspoken, seamless, not out of politeness but out of wanting an easier predicament.

Their days barely touched. Riki left early for the studio, hours before she was even fully awake. He'd disappear into rehearsal schedules, choreography tweaks, and group chats that vibrated endlessly. Y/N stayed behind, either lounging in oversized T-shirts watching movies she said were for research or diving into freelance projects- polishing scripts that needed character, subtitling moody short films, editing indie commercials for start-ups that sold things like oat milk candles or emotionally intelligent dog leashes. 

They always returned to each other at dinner- takeout bags stacked on the counter, or half-hearted cooking sessions where someone inevitably forgot the salt. They were too tired to go out, too full of comfort to need more. One night, on a whim, they built a blanket fort with every cushion in the apartment and watched an old horror film they used to be terrified of. They didn’t flinch once, no popcorn thrown. Just soft laughter, a realization- they weren’t kids anymore, but something about that night made it feel like they could still play pretend.

And slowly, something inside Riki shifted. His feelings for her had always been hard to name- threaded in history, stitched into the craving of childhood familiarity- but now it felt heavier. Not sharp, but lingering in the depths of his conscience. He didn’t know what it was about her. Maybe the way she moved through his apartment like she had always belonged there. Maybe the quiet trust that settled between them like steam from a warm meal. It felt inevitable. It felt like a cliché.

His friends noticed. Of course they did.

Every few Sundays, Heeseung or Chiara or Jungwon would casually ask, “So, you bringing Y/N this time?” And every time, Riki had a new excuse. She was working. She was tired. She had plans. And sure- sometimes, that was true. But what he never said, not even to himself, was that he was afraid to even ask her. Afraid of what her reaction would be, afraid of how his second family would see everything he didn’t want to say out loud.

But eventually, he mustered up the courage.

It was no big moment, not any confession that had to go down in history. It was simply a text sent before he could overthink it, in between dance breaks and overthinking. And now, Y/N was on her way to Jake and Chiara’s apartment- for their sacred Sunday dinner, the table already set, the group already wondering what it would mean, this time, to set one more plate for a guest of Riki’s.

WHEN RIKI RANG THE DOORBELL to Jake and Chiara’s apartment, the hallway he’d stood in a million times before and the expensive black door he was staring at felt unfamiliar, unexplored. And he finally understood the nervousness and deafening anxiety the rest of his Hyungs had described when introducing their own significant others. 

The story of how Jay and Jade argued their way into the same Sunday dinner, all those years ago when they had just started dating, was told and retold to the point that no one even remembered what they were arguing about. They just knew that Jay had a complicated, only sexual relationship with Jade, before they started dating and that to suddenly spring the news of their relationship on everyone felt criminal. Then there was Sunghoon and Sarah who almost bailed on the dinner, already a step forward of literally running, if it weren’t for Chiara opening the door too fast. Jungwon said he almost fainted before introducing Eva to everyone officially, afraid of the criticality that he thought would come with it (because he used to bitch about her like she was the devil herself before he actually fell for her). But it never did- he underestimated his friends. Sunoo and Sheila didn’t have the hassle of nerves because they’d all known Sheila long before Chiara and Jake even got married. 

With Riki’s past relationships, he’d never felt this nervous. He’d never felt nervous at all- he had no reason to. Perhaps it was because, in the back of his head, he knew that all his relationships would somehow be ended. That all of them would somehow become irrelevant down the line, another name in his expansive list. He wasn’t proud of it- it was just the way it had been with his insufferable commitment issues.

As for Heeseung and Karina, tradition wasn’t even a thing when they started dating. In fact, it was them that even started the tradition, to hold Sunday dinners at Jake and Chiara’s every week for whoever was able to join, and to introduce or announce important milestones during such gatherings.

At that moment, Riki wanted to curse at his oldest Hyung.

Beside him, Y/N stood in a pair of jeans and an expensive top she bought just for the occasion (or so she claimed- Riki knew she just had a shopping addiction that was fueled with random excuses). She clutched her phone to her chest, eyes blanking at the door, her lips pulled between her teeth. 

“Hey,” Riki nudged her, chewing his own lips now, hands fidgeting in his pockets. “You okay?”

“Nope,” she shook her head and Riki was taken aback by her honesty. He was also relieved that she couldn’t pick out his own nervousness, too fixated by her own.

“Oh-”

“I know, being a film student and all,” she rambled. “That I’m supposed to be confident in crowds and shit. Extraverted or whatever. And I am, don’t get me wrong. And I’ve already met, like, half these people, right? In your apartment, at our play that night- and they’re all so sweet. They sound like amazing people. But those interactions were short. I knew they would last barely a few minutes. But an entire fucking night with these accomplished fucking people-”

Somehow, Y/N’s panic brought relief to Riki. It was almost like the playing field was leveled. 

Up until that moment, he was trapped in his own head, convinced that his nervousness was pathetic, especially because Y/N usually carried herself with so much ease and poise. She was always quick on her feet, emotionally articulate, socially magnetic. But when she started to panic? When her presence cracked and she blurted out an honest stream of messy, human anxiety? It grounded him, told him that, perhaps, he was putting too much pressure on this night when he didn’t need to.

Because they were old friends, known each other their whole life. That was all that it was. Right?

“Y/N,” he said, moving his hands to her shoulders- an action suddenly so natural and familiar after living together. “Breathe.”

And she did, her eyes locked onto his gaze, inhaling and exhaling while profusely nodding her head. “Yes,” she breathed. “It’s not that deep, right?”

Riki didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t offer generic lines like you’ll be fine or they’ll love you because he knew all that already. Instead, he shifted closer, shoulder brushing hers, his hand reaching instinctively for the sleeve of her jacket- two fingers hooking onto the fabric, tugging once.

He leaned in, just enough for only her to hear. And then he said something dumb, something that made her roll her eyes and laugh under her breath. It was about the way Jungwon once spilled wine all over Chiara’s wedding dress, and how Karina once called Heeseung her “co-worker” in front of his entire family during a fight. It reminded her that these people weren’t untouchable. They were chaotic, ridiculous, imperfect with stories just as embarassing as hers.

Then the door opened.

Jake, with his usual full and welcoming smile, greeted them as he ushered them inside. Y/N stepped in first, heart pounding like she’d just walked into the lion’s den. Jake shook her hand, took her coat, and affirmed that it was nice to see her again and asked if her film programme was going well in NYFA. Riki stood behind them as they walked through the apartment, into the kitchen. Y/N felt the relief of not needing to introduce herself- his friends already knew her.

The apartment was warm and glowing- soft lighting, familiar laughter echoing from the kitchen, and the scent of garlic bread and red wine floating through the air like bait. Shoes were piled near the entrance, coats already flung over chairs, and someone (Jay) was shouting about overcooked pasta. A half-set table sat in the middle of it all, cluttered with mismatched wine glasses and paper napkins weighed down by salt shakers. Candles flickered unevenly beside takeout containers and Chiara’s attempt at a centerpiece- a vase full of dried lavender. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t curated. But it felt familiar, a space built on years of dinners just like this one. 

Still, it was a lot.

Heeseung was the first to notice her, reintroducing himself as he maneuvered around the table to offer her a glass of alcohol- pick any, we have it all. Karina appeared beside him, greeting her with the same warm smile from the night of the play. Sarah waved with her mouth full of salad, her eyes sparkling at Y/N’s arrival. Sunghoon let out an elongated “ohhh” as he finally recognized her as the girl from Riki’s apartment six months ago. Then Chiara appeared- all grace and cheekbones- guiding Y/N by the shoulders to sit between Sarah and Sheila, who immediately complimented her hair.

“Come here, you little shit,” Riki felt Heeseung grab his arm, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. Heeseung and Karina hadn’t made it to the last few dinners, caught between work and travel. It had been about three weeks since they last saw each other- probably the night of the play.

“Any bets you’ve made for tonight?” Riki muttered, struggling out of Heeseung’s grasp as Jay joined them.

“If we had,” Jay grinned, “we’re not gonna tell you anyway.”

“You treat me like I’m a child,” Riki sighed, something he’d said a hundred times before and would likely say a hundred times again- locked in a permanent, affectionate limbo with his Hyungs. “I’m not even the youngest one here tonight.”

At that, Heeseung and Jay dramatically gasped.

Jungwon, overhearing, pointed it out even louder, and suddenly everyone was nodding toward Y/N as the baby of the group, tossing around stories about how they once faced the same struggles she was likely going through now. Eva and Jade eventually hushed everyone, telling them to stop being weird and to ignore their never-ending childish antics.

Jay and Sunoo set up Y/N’s plate, stuffing it with everything they had cooked up that night- pasta, salad, salmon, and some sort of vaguely Mexican dish Chiara had attempted. Y/N accepted it shyly, already knowing she’d struggle to finish it all.

And through it all, Riki observed her- not close enough to smother, but always within reach, like his presence was some kind of quiet safety net she hadn’t realized she needed. Then, Jungwon approached her with a collaboration idea- something about her helping them out with filming a commercial for their dance studio and Riki was almost embarrassed to admit that they did need to up their game in marketing.

“I’d love to help,”Y/N admitted. “I’m sure my friends would, too. Winter break just has everyone busy.”

“Wow, I miss having summer and winter breaks.”

Dinner was loud- expectedly. Sarah and Sunoo engaged her in a conversation about contemporary film and mid-century drama. Eventually, Chiara chimed in to learn about set design and direction. Y/N indulged them with what limited knowledge she had, quickly learning that they were film geeks in high school. Beside them, Jake, Karina and Jungwon were debating the relevance of garlic in tomato soup- however that conversation started. Suddenly, in between laughter and questions, Y/N wasn’t overwhelmed anymore and Riki could tell from the occasional eye contact from across the table.

“Y/N, when Riki’s home, you’re around him, yeah?” Jay, out of nowhere, hollered from the other end of the table and it startled Y/N.

“I guess,” Y/N responded, biting the nail of her thumb. She was taken aback by the next, confusion spilling over her features, expression almost disrespectful. 

“Has he smoked?” Heeseung asked.

Riki was seen pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this another bet?”

Confused, Y/N wrinkled her brows. “No…?”

The table rumbled again, Sarah suddenly getting defensive as Sunghoon poked fun at her about something Y/N didn’t have context to and Jay clapping Riki’s back with pride. “You owe me twenty for that,” he yelled at Heeseung who was slumping in his chair, already digging through his pants pocket to retrieve his wallet.

“Heeseung, if you’re gonna keep losing bets like this, I’m scared we’ll go broke,” Karina said, obviously a joke. “Just stop making bets.”

Then Jungwon, in his usual calm and matter-of-fact way, began explaining the odd but deeply sentimental significance of smoking within their group. The story of how Riki picked up the habit in high school unraveled slowly- something about the wrong crowd, bad influence, too much ego and not enough impulse control. When the rest of the group eventually found out, their reactions were, in hindsight, nothing short of comical. Sunghoon, with his deep-rooted hatred for smoking, refused to speak to Riki for three whole days. Jake tried getting him to quit with nicotine patches that ended up forgotten in drawers. Heeseung and Jay took to blackmail- quit, or we tell your mom. It never really worked.

Then Sarah came along with her already well-established smoking schedule and zero shame about it. Naturally, she and Riki bonded instantly, and the habit only worsened. There was something strangely poetic about the two of them standing outside at gatherings, bundled in coats, sharing long silences with smoke curling from their fingers.

It was probably around a year ago, around the time of Jungwon and Eva’s wedding, when a bunch of them went on a camping trip that a bet had been formulated under the stars and in front of a campfire- that Riki and Sarah would try quitting. It was about time, if fact- they were getting old, Sarah almost pushing thirty. They weren’t getting younger or healthier any time soon. So, with conviction, Riki and Sarah agreed and shook on it over a hundred dollar bill.

Both of them would lose the bet within a week.

But to be fair, they never stopped trying. Riki noticed the cravings begin to dull about two months later. Sarah managed a solid three months before caving during a particularly stressful meeting with the university. But even then, she picked herself up again. Last anyone checked, Riki had quit completely, and Sarah had been clean for two months- again.

Before that dinner, Heeseung had made a quiet bet with Jay- twenty bucks and bragging rights- that Riki would’ve relapsed by now. Given the emotional landmine he was currently living in- a winter break spent sharing an apartment with the girl he was clearly pining over- it felt like a sure thing. Heeseung argued that no man, not even one as stubborn as Riki, could survive that kind of domestic tension without giving in to at least one bad habit.

Jay disagreed, not because he believed in Riki’s willpower, but because he believed in Riki’s denial. “He’ll suffer, sure,” he’d said. “But he’ll suffer clean.”

Riki snickered as he watched Heeseung hand Jay a crumpled twenty dollar bill, a scoff on his face.

Dinner blurred into something rich and full- like a film montage in laughter, glass clinks, and overlapping conversations. Y/N found herself swept up into everything. Sheila and Sunoo argued passionately about whether filmmakers romanticized loneliness too much, while Jungwon launched into an overly dramatic retelling of how he dropped out of film school (after 24 hours of joining) after getting a C+. Jungwon knew nothing about film. Chiara and Eva took turns threatening Riki for trying to sneak extra chili flakes into the pasta. Karina and Jade somehow ended up telling birth stories- no one knew how- and half the table gagged while the other half applauded.

Y/N didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to. She listened, laughed, sipped from the wine glass Sunghoon kept refilling when she wasn’t looking. She watched it all unfold- the way this group moved around each other like planets in orbit, chaotic but never colliding. At some point, Sarah passed her a bowl of salad and whispered, “You’re doing great,” like it was a performance. And maybe it was. It would take a while for it to stop being a performance for a new-comer. Y/N just didn’t know if there would be another time.

Plates were cleared slowly- half by volunteers, half by peer pressure. Jay and Jade rinsed dishes while Heeseung played a post-dinner playlist from the living room speaker. Riki stayed near Y/N, helping her stack forks and carry glasses, their shoulders bumping every few steps. It didn’t feel chore-like. It felt like rhythm. Like something they already knew how to do together.

As the night stretched on, the chaos mellowed. Parents began checking their phones- Jade stepped out to call her babysitter, and Chiara and Jake had to talk their toddler through a minor bedtime meltdown via FaceTime. Sughoon and Jungwon were cross-legged on the floor in the corner, wine-drunk and laughing uncontrollably about a group vacation that never actually took place. Riki was asleep on the couch, one shoe off and a throw pillow clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. Karina was curled up beside Heeseung, legs tucked under her, eyes closed as he quietly played with the ends of her hair mid-conversation, wondering what their twins were doing with their babysitter. Sunoo and Sheila had left for home a while ago and Eva assured her that this wasn’t unusual for them.

Y/N found space beside Riki’s sleeping form, her head slightly tipped in quiet exhaustion. Slow jazz now filled the atmosphere, wrapping around the hush that had settled across the apartment- the kind of quiet that comes only after a storm. She let her gaze wander, finally taking in the details of the space she hadn’t had time to notice before.

The ceilings were tall, the walls warm-toned and glowing under soft light. A spiraling staircase curled upward toward what she assumed were bedrooms, and a balcony stretched wide, offering a sweeping view of New York’s glittering skyline. In front of her stood the television wall, a small bookshelf tucked neatly beside it. It was filled with magazines- presumably ones Jake and Chiara had modelled for- and well-worn books of old literature Y/N vaguely recognized from her high school English classes.

There was a wall lined with framed photographs- a mosaic of memories frozen in time. At first glance, they seemed casual, almost cluttered. But the more Y/N looked, the more she realized they were deliberate, chronological, curated by love. Most of the frames held Jake and Chiara posing with their son- grinning, sleepy-eyed, dressed as pirates on Halloween, or drenched in cake at what must’ve been his second birthday. But around those, like branches growing from a shared root, were the real legacy: pictures of the group. Their group. The number of people grew frame by frame, like chapters added to a story still being written.

The first photo was grainy, printed slightly crooked. It showed only the boys- seven of them, arm-in-arm, standing in front of a worn-down brick building that looked like it might’ve been a school. Riki, Jungwon, and Sunoo were unmistakably in uniform, their ties askew and faces baby-soft. They looked so young. Almost unrecognizable, all round cheeks and unformed edges, eyes filled with the kind of confidence that only came before real heartbreak.

In the next frame, Chiara appeared- wedged between Jake and Jay with a soft, almost shy smile. Nothing like the poised, statuesque model Y/N had seen online. She looked like a friend, like family. After that came Karina and Sheila, arms looped together at what looked like a birthday dinner, mid-laughter, mid-life. Then Jade and Eva, sitting on opposite ends of a couch but leaning inward, like a magnetic pull existed between them. And finally, in the most recent photo- clearer, brighter, heavier- was Sarah, along with all the children, as well. She was wrapped in Sunghoon’s arms, head tucked into his shoulder, her eyes closed in that unguarded way people only let happen when they’re truly safe.

The wall read like a timeline, each new face a plot twist, each smile a resolution. It wasn’t just decoration- it was storytelling. A collective memory pressed into glass, a gallery of arrivals, of becoming. It was the kind of thing you didn’t frame just to remember when someone came into your life- but to mark that they had never left.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Sarah appeared beside her, offering her a glass of water as she wedged herself in the empty space beside her and the passed out Riki.

“Yeah,” Y/N gulped down the water, astonished. “Never knew people like this existed, in this day and age.”

“Agreed,” Sarah nodded. “I feel like I got a little lucky every time one of these dinners happens.”

“I told him the same thing when he told me about Sunoo’s wedding,” Y/N grinned, too shy to meet Sarah’s eyes.

“Yeah, that night was beautiful,” Sarah mused. “Sunghoon has a framed picture from that night on his desk.”

Then came a moment of silence. With a smile softer than a feather, Sarah reached out and gently patted Riki’s hair, testing to see if he’d wake up. He only stirred, mumbling something under his breath before sinking further into the couch. Y/N stared, something warm blooming in her chest at the ease of it all- the tenderness, the familiarity. It wasn’t performative. It was family.

“Everyone shows up every Sunday for this, huh?” Y/N asked, curious.

“Well, no,” Sarah shrugged. “A lot of the time, we travel. We’re busy. Heeseung and Karina didn’t show up for the last three. Sunoo and Sheila are also missing a lot because they travel a lot, too,” she explained. 

“And if Jake and Chiara aren’t home?”

“Sometimes, we make restaurant reservations. But we mostly come over anyway, raid their kitchen,” Sarah grinned. “When I first found out, I was a bit perplexed. Because, what do you mean you trust a group of people so much that you’d let them run your house and clean your house when you aren’t there? It felt like it was out of a sitcom.”

“Yeah.”

“But these people, Y/N,” Sarah sighed. “They built something irreplaceable. It’s like- you couldn’t understand it if you don’t experience it for yourself, you know? There’s no malice, no hate, no pettiness, no fucking each other over. It’s always just been love.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten as she gulped.

“You know, Riki hated me when Sunghoon and I first started dating?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Sarah chuckled. “When Sunghoon and I first met, I was... apprehensive. Cold. May or may not have acted like a dick.” Y/N laughed at that. “I think Riki was the only one who genuinely held a grudge. Everyone else somehow had blind faith in Sunghoon. But Riki didn’t. Looking back, I used to wonder how they could trust his judgment about me- because, to be fair, Sunghoon was kind of stupid about his love life. But I’m glad they did. I’m glad they trusted me.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her laughter from before still lingering at the corners of her mouth. The room had quieted, the buzz of dinner fading into the gentle clinking of dishes in the kitchen and the low murmur of a half-finished conversation across the room. Riki was completely passed out now, his face slack with exhaustion, one arm flung over his head like he’d been caught mid-dream.

Sarah tilted her head, studying him for a long, thoughtful moment.

“Sometimes I can’t wait to see who Riki would end up with.”

AFTER THAT DINNER, SOMETHING ABOUT Riki shifted in Y/N’s eyes. 

The mornings were quieter- not the awkward kind but more of a familiar kind, the kind that didn’t require effort to be filled. And Y/N would find her eyes wandering towards Riki more often than not- when he made breakfast half-asleep, when he put on his jacket in that same dramatic way every morning, when he came home and tossed his keys on the counter like the world had chewed him up. Everything was technically the same- dinner, watching movies, talking- but it wasn’t, like a new layer had been added.

They sat closer together, leaned in instinctively to hear each other better. He was more attentive to her now, softer. Around the apartment, she started noticing little things- her favorite snacks in the cupboard (Sola definitely helped with that), a charger placed near the couch, a new stack of books on the coffee table- books that Riki absolutely did not own before because he barely read. He probably never finished reading a book his entire life. She knew they were brand new. She had once said she missed reading for fun, and the next morning, they were just… there, in front of her to discover openly. She just stared at them for a long time that morning, trying not to smile. He never said anything either.

One night, he came home late and found her watching some black-and-white film. He made a face, called it visually offensive but joined her anyway (she still couldn't convince him to watch The Notebook or The Titanic). At first, he lounged like usual, all stretched limbs and lazy posture, his arm on the headrest as usual. She was curled up beside him, completely locked in, eyes wide and focused. He didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep until her head knocked against his chest. And when the movie ended, he didn’t find it in him to move. Her warmth felt too... permanent, too dangerous. He woke her gently, and when she blinked up at him, their faces way too close, it almost felt like a question- they looked away.

Another time, they finally agreed to step out for dinner- ramen at a place just down the block, nothing too fancy. It was familiar, like most things with them were. They debated over an internet conspiracy theory, laughing with their heads tilted together like it was the most important argument in the world. But when they stepped back into the snow, coats drawn tight around them, scarves tugged over mouths, Riki watched her with a full heart. This time, he didn’t shy away from the feeling. When she reached out to catch a snowflake, he reached out too- his fingers brushing hers as he took her hand. And without thinking, he tucked a stray flake-speckled lock of hair behind her ear. She blinked up at him, surprised. He looked at her with eyes that were filled with something like hope, glassy and lingering. They didn’t speak about it, instead choosing to reminisce about Osaka’s cherry blossoms and snow fall.

She told him, offhandedly, how her Christmas had been lost under piles of work and a silly gift exchange. It was kind of sad, kind of lonely. So, he called Chiara and asked for her gingerbread recipe. He didn’t say it was for Y/N, but Chiara knew- she always did. That day, they made the ugliest gingerbread house known to mankind. The walls caved in, the roof collapsed- the kitchen looked like it too, flour thrown everywhere, the remnants of egg yolk dripping off the counter. They laughed so hard Riki nearly dropped the whole thing on the floor. She hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. They took a picture of it and sent it to the family group chat.

Sometimes, Riki’s friends would barge in. One afternoon, while Riki was out at the studio and Y/N was working from the kitchen counter, Heeseung and Jake barged in while arguing- perhaps about something trivial but Jake was pointing an accusatory finger at Heeseung. They didn’t realize Riki wasn’t home- or that Y/N was. But when they finally looked up and noticed her, they didn’t skip a beat. There was no awkward tension, no polite apology, just a casual “oh hey,” followed by them flopping onto the couch like they lived there, still arguing as if she’d always been part of the scene. Then, mid-sentence, Heeseung asked how she was doing- genuinely. Jake chimed in with something about her film classes.

“If anything’s bothering you, let us know,” Jake grinned.

“Yeah, we’ve got contacts,” Heeseung snickered.

It dawned on her that these people probably knew a lot of her faculty.

She talked to them as they told her stories of Riki and Y/N told them about her childhood. And somewhere between the questions and intent listening, she realized they cared. Not just as an extension of Riki and not just as a guest in his apartment. And she talked to them, lost in their world, until Riki came home and they disappeared into his room to discuss their original intent of coming over in the first place.

But then, Winter break came to a halt. The fantasy Y/N was living in had crumbled over night. The apartment wasn’t the same anymore. It felt like it was bracing for some sort of impact like when sitting on a rollercoaster that was hiking its peak- the impact never hit, it was just silence.

Riki helped her pack- quietly, methodically, like if he focused hard enough on folding her clothes or zipping her bag, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge what it meant. Y/N moved around the apartment slower than usual, checking the same corners twice, pretending like she’d forgotten something just to stay a minute longer. They didn’t talk much. But both of them were sulking, in that wordless, obvious way. Not angry, not upset- just... unwilling. And it didn’t feel like there was space to say the thing they were both thinking. That they didn’t want it to end. That she didn’t want to leave. That he didn’t want her to.

The silence between them felt like a third person in the room- looming, heavy, impossible to ignore. It clung to their steps as Riki carried her bags down the stairs and into the car. On the drive, they spoke in one-liners- the kind of conversation that started and ended at the same time. And when they finally reached her dorm, Riki didn’t move to help carry anything further. He just stood there, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, eyes on her building like it had done something wrong. Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

They bid each other goodbye, they said they’d keep in touch- both of them aware they’d said that before. 

But this time, they really did keep in touch. Not in a dramatic, every-day kind of way. But in the little excuses- the link to a song she’d once mentioned in passing, a blurry photo of Riki’s half-burnt dinner with the caption you’d be ashamed. She’d send a picture of a weirdly dramatic pigeon outside her classroom and he’d reply in all-caps. It wasn’t constant, but it was intentional. A shared meme, a screenshot of a movie scene. “Did you see this?” “This reminded me of you.”

Sometimes it was a late-night text when one of them couldn’t sleep. Sometimes it was nothing more than a single emoji in response to something they didn’t need to explain. But it was effort, a mutual one. They didn’t talk about missing each other. But it was in every message they didn’t have to send but sent anyway.

Then, a month later, Y/N and Riki were standing in the same room again, this time in his dance studio while her and her friends were helping him with a commercial shoot. It wasn’t anything complicated- just promotional. There wasn’t much dialogue involved, and there wasn't much planning. They kind of just showed up with their equipment and hoped to go with the flow. 

There were a million questions being thrown around by both parties, one because they didn’t understand the art behind dance and the other confused of what to do in front of a camera but both parties were concerned about the amount of footage they’d have by the end of the night. Noah and Marcel stood behind the lighting and sound equipment, Asma was going around touching up everyone's makeup and cleaning people’s sweat. Y/N was leaning into Juniper’s side as she flipped through her camera settings. 

Most of the shooting was done by then and it was barely past the evening. They had made good progress. The only thing they needed to worry about was exhaustion. All of Riki’s dancers were heaving and Jungwon and Eva struggled to force their bodies into doing the same routine over and over again. The three collapsed in a corner as the camera crew yelled for a break so they could run over footage. Riki stole glances of Y/N while she quietly listened to Juniper point at the laptop screen and Marcel at his phone, head tilted and hands on her hips. 

Then, after a brief silence, Juniper proudly announced that they had enough footage for their intended promotional video and that they could officially wrap up the shoot. Like they’d rehearsed it, the five friends (Y/N, Noah, Marcel, Juniper and Asma) huddled together, arms holding each other's shoulders, and outrightly sang Take Me home, Country Roads by John Denver. It had the rest of the studio laughing and clapping.

While the group, all the dancers included, made their way to a celebratory dinner at a Chinese bistro not too far away, Juniper narrated the story of how the song came to become so significant for them.

It all started four months ago, during an overnight shoot for yet another project. They were filming in a borrowed barn for aesthetic purposes- even though none of them had written a single word of the script yet. It was freezing, pitch-black, and none of the lighting equipment was working. Noah had forgotten the extension cables, Juniper tripped over a hay bale and sprained her ankle, and Asma was yelling about how this was exactly why she didn’t believe in spontaneity.

Somewhere around 2 am, Marcel discovered that the Bluetooth speaker was the only functioning piece of technology they had. He connected his phone and, without explanation, blasted Take Me Home, Country Roads at full volume. At first, everyone just stared. Then Noah, still in costume as a ghost for some reason, started swaying with a flashlight under his chin. One by one, sleep-deprived and high on instant noodles, they all joined in, singing it like it was a hymn sent down from the heavens. By the second chorus, Juniper was crying (unclear if from emotion or ankle pain), and Asma was harmonizing like her life depended on it.

The project was never finished. The footage was unusable. But that night? That night became legend. And from that moment on, Country Roads was their emergency theme song- when things went wrong, when they wrapped something up, when someone was sad or stupidly happy. It became less of a song and more of a ritual, a religious practice.

The Chinese bistro, decorated with red, blue and green, couldn’t accommodate so many people at one table. So the groups split and occupied the small round tables that could barely accommodate four people. Y/N separated into a table with Riki, Jungwon and Eva like it was natural, letting her friends occupy the table behind her. Riki grinned at her while conversation filled the space, not only their own but the many others who were conversing with their friends and celebrating the day’s victory and free meal (which wasn’t free for Riki, Jungwon and Eva because they were paying the entirety of the bill).

Riki ordered food for the table, coaxing everyone to trust his choices while Jungwon threatened to roundhouse kick him if the food tasted out horrible. Eva only rolled her eyes and looked at Y/N with feigned annoyance. “You see what I have to deal with everyday?”

Y/N laughed, politely covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to contribute to the conversation so she listened and laughed and threw in an occasional reactionary response. Cautiously, she nibbled on fried tofu and bok choy, watching the way Eva and Jungwon discussed taxes and bills and Riki argued about how they could have just hired an accountant to figure these things out for them. Then, they moved on to talking about real-estate and how Jungwon and Eva were looking to find a bigger apartment- they needed more space after adopting a dog. Finally, on some whim, Riki came to the topic of their friends and how, after a long time, things felt silent and serene amongst them- no big announcement, no big changes, no more life-altering decisions.

“You’d be surprised,” Jungwon then said, to break the bubble. He brought the ceramic cup of green tea to his lips. “There’s talk of Sunghoon proposing to Sarah.”

Riki’s brows crickled, neck craning forward in confusion, lips parting. “Talk?” He asked. “What do you mean, talk? Did Sunghoon say so?”

“Yeah, my bad, I phrased that so terribly,” Jungwon shook his head. “Sunghoon Hyung, Eva and I went to watch a movie together a few nights ago. I think Sarah was still on campus or something, one of her students needed help. And after the movie, Sunghoon just… blurted it out.”

“Yeah,” Eva piped, profusely nodding. “He just up and went I think I’m gonna ask her to marry me and Jungwon dropped the popcorn on the floor.”

There was a moment of silence that fell upon them, Riki slowly leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms. Then he looked at Y/N, a grin playing on his lips. “Thank fucking God,” he exhaled. Jungwon chuckled. “I was really convinced that if these two weren’t endgame, Sunghoon Hyung would truly end up alone.”

“I love him but I was thinking the same thing,” Eva admitted.

“Makes sense why Chiara and Jake have her in one of the group pictures,” Y/N offered, softly- only Riki heard her.

He grinned at her again, nudging her shoulder with his. “Seriously,” he nodded. “Sarah is the only person we all collectively trusted with Sunghoon. Every other girl, at some point in time, we all had an issue with.”

“Sunghoon had terrible taste,” Jungwon rolled his eyes.

They started telling one of Sunghoon’s infamous drunk stories- this one passed down like mythology. None of them were actually there that night. It was Jay’s story originally, but at this point, they’d all claimed it as their own.

It was the night of Chiara’s high school graduation. Just a handful of them at Jake’s old apartment- Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon- playing cards, drinking cheap beer, and yelling over the sound of thunder shaking the windows. By the time it hit midnight, the rain was sideways and Sunghoon was gone. Not tipsy. Gone.

Jay was apparently half-asleep, slouched at the edge of the bed, when Sunghoon started spiraling. Not dramatically- just tragically, in the way only Sunghoon could. Mumbling about how his love life was cursed. How nothing ever worked out. How he was “doomed to rot in loneliness forever,” because- get this- he once Googled the meaning of the mole on his right pinky toe, and it said he’d face “constant issues in love and marriage.”

At this point in the story, Jungwon was already laughing.

“Like, who the hell Googles that?” he said between cackles.

Eva jumped in. “And believes it!”

Riki, nearly in tears, mimicked the way Sunghoon apparently clutched the blanket to his chest and yelled curses in Korean when Jay told him to just go to sleep.

Y/N was wheezing by the end of it, clutching her side, already picturing Sunghoon dramatically slapping his forehead in drunken despair. “Poor guy,” she breathed. “God bless Sarah.”

Meanwhile, Riki and Jungwon had already launched into full-blown scheming mode- whispering back and forth about which Hyung they could manipulate into treating them to an expensive meal later to soothe the sting of spending so much money tonight. It felt less like grown men plotting and more like two middle-schoolers rehearsing how to ask their parents for something they weren’t allowed to have.

“Jake Hyung’s the easiest,” Riki whispered. “He always takes us out.”

“Right, right,” Jungwon nodded. “And Jay Hyung.”

“Nah, not him,” Riki shook his head. “He’ll catch on.”

“Heeseung Hyung?”

“Sunoo Hyung?”

“Perfect. We’ll scam all three,” Jungwon clapped.

“You guys are idiots,” Eva muttered, arms crossed. “Jake literally hosts us every Sunday for free- do you realize how much money goes into all that food and alcohol?”

“They’re rich,” Jungwon argued without shame.

And just like that, Riki, Jungwon, and Eva were caught in a circular argument about the morality of tricking their friends into feeding them. Riki thought it was harmless. Jungwon laughed and said it was tradition- they’d been doing it since high school. Eva, who was clearly not thrilled by the idea of her husband and best friend acting like broke teenage boys despite earning well above average, eventually smacked both of them on the head and declared herself done.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Riki turned to her like she was the final judge.

Eva shot her a look too- sharp, warning, the kind that said choose wisely.

Y/N looked between them like a deer caught in headlights, lips parting to try and find a diplomatic answer- and then, miraculously, a waiter appeared with a tray of drinks. Every single head turned. The argument dissolved. All moral debates were instantly forgotten. Y/N was off the hook. 

Riki had definitely drank too much.

It wasn’t like him- not really. He wasn’t the type to lose control at group dinners or forget where he left his shoes. But that night, for some reason, it just happened. No emotional backstory, no dramatic trigger. Just too many shots handed to him too quickly and not enough good decisions in between.

Jungwon had offered to drive him home, one hand already reaching for the keys while Eva helped wrangle the rest of the group into cabs. Y/N had hesitated at first- torn between following her friends back to the dorm or going along- but eventually nodded, telling the others she’d catch up later.

When they reached Riki’s apartment, it became painfully clear that he was no longer in full control of his legs. He couldn’t even stand up straight- his entire weight slumped onto Y/N like he’d mistaken her for an armrest made of steel instead of someone barely taller than him and running on two poorly made cocktails and fried rice.

Jungwon and Eva exchanged a knowing glance and muttered something about “text us when he’s okay,” before slipping out. And just like that, Y/N was alone with him- drunk, mumbling, kind of pathetic, but in a way that still somehow made her chest ache.

Riki groaned something incomprehensible as she fumbled with the door and tried not to let both of them collapse on the welcome mat. She wasn’t even sure he knew where he was anymore.

But when his hand clumsily reached for hers, squeezing it just barely, she held on.

She didn’t know where she got the strength from- maybe adrenaline, maybe stubbornness- but she finally managed to get him into his bedroom, stumbling through the hall like they were fighting gravity with every step.

She sat him down on the edge of the bed with a heavy thud, both of them breathless, her arm sore from the effort of carrying his weight. Riki slumped forward, elbows on knees, and she sat beside him, hands pressed into the mattress, trying to still her heartbeat. But Riki leaned on her again, whining loudly- it was so unlike him, such an odd sight.

“I like your company,” he mumbled, head slotted into the space between her shoulder and her neck, voice low and messy.

Y/N’s heart stilled- she felt it, in her chest, the skip of a beat, the missing second of a heartbeat. She closed her eyes.

“I like being around you, Y/N,” he mumbled- too clear, too clean for the state he was in and the moment they were wrapped up in.

“Riki,” she whispered, staring at the empty wall in front of her. “You’re drunk.”

She wished he wasn’t. But if he weren’t, would he be saying the same things?

“So what?” He said, voice now heavier, annoyed almost. “Don’t you see?”

Did she see? Did she see the way he looked at her while she was talking? Did she see the way he smiled when he spoke about her to his friends? Did she see the way his hands somehow always stretched towards her? Did she see the sparkle in his eyes when their families demanded that he house her for winter break? Did she see the way he almost shattered at the lack of her constant presence?

“See what?”

Riki didn’t reply, not with words, at least. He let his weight tip sideways and collapsed onto the bed, dragging Y/N with him in motion. They landed together, flat on their backs, legs dangling on the edge, Riki’s head lolling from side to side as more whines stumbled past his lips. Y/N only stared forward, breath caught in her throat.

“Riki,” she exhaled, squirming under the weight of his arm. “I need to go back to my dorm.”

Before she could even finish her sentence, his arm snaked around her waist, skin touching skin past the sliver of her shirt riding up. The warmth brough blood rushing to her cheeks and a squeak escaped her throat. Riki continued to nuzzle his head into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling her jaw, his lashes brushing her ear, his chin on her shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he breathed. “Stay.”

WHEN RIKI WOKE UP THE next morning, he found himself buried under his duvet, limbs twisted in a way that made no physical sense. His mouth was dry, his head was pounding, and somehow- somehow- the curtains were open, sunlight slicing through the room like a personal attack. He groaned, already irritated, one arm thrown over his face to shield himself from the rays of sunshine. This was unusual- he never left the curtains open.

Then he felt it, the presence beside him and his eyes shot open faster than he knew to breathe.

Y/N was curled into him, her head resting on his numbed arm, hand gripping the fabric of his shirt, hair strewn across his pristine grey pillows. Their legs were tangled, weaving each other close- too close.

Full blown panic hit him as he gasped- loudly. His eyes went wild, scanning the room, scanning them, desperately checking if anything was out of place, if anything was unusual. He lifted the blanket, afraid of what he would find-

They were fully clothed.

Riki let out a shaky exhale, letting his fingers card through his sweaty hair, tutting and twitching his jaw. His heart didn’t stop pounding against his ribs though- he thought his heart could never calm down, with the way she was holding onto him like he’d disappear if she didn’t, like she was holding on so he wouldn’t leave.

Nothing happened, he repeated in his head, nothing happened.

Then the memories started trickling back in. The drinks. The way he’d leaned on her. The things he’d said.

Oh, fuck.

His head throbbed harder. Riki, disappointedly pulling away from Y/N, scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over his own feet, hand pressed against his forehead like he could physically push his hangover back in. Now, his head throbbed harder than his heart and he collapsed onto his couch, head heavy in his hands, curses falling past his lips.

What the hell had he done?

When Y/N woke up, groggy and confused by her lonesome state in the bed- she jolted up. Running a hand through her hair and fixing her shirt, she found Riki in the hall, sitting on his couch, staring straight ahead at the black screen of the television. 

She padded over slowly, bare feet against the floor, still disoriented but fully aware that something was off. The apartment was too quiet. Riki was too still.

Y/N sat beside him, the silence between them somehow louder than the city noise outside. She looked at him- head in his hands, posture crumpled like regret had already gotten to him. His voice was rough when he answered her question about the tablets, a shake of the head without lifting his eyes. She moved to get up anyway, almost instinctively- because that’s what you do when you care about someone- especially if you had known them since childhood. But before she could make it out of the room, his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist and held her in a soft hold. Not desperate, not firm, but enough to make her sit back down and breathe a little slower, enough to make her feel something she didn’t have a name for yet.

“Last night was weird, huh?” Riki’s voice came out slowly, flatly- he was trying to hide the fear in his voice, the caution he was taking while looking at her. His eyes were drooping, not because he was tired or sleepy but because of the regret pounding in his chest, the anticipation of what was to come next slowly creeping into his conscience.

“You were drunk,” she answered- but it almost sounded wrong, a weak debate, like she was trying to convince herself rather than console him. 

She tried to tell herself that it didn’t mean anything. That her heart hadn’t been racing when he said those words. That she didn’t feel like her lungs had collapsed when he wrapped his arms around her like she belonged there. And maybe she was trying to convince herself, because if it wasn’t just because he was drunk, then what was it? What did that mean for her? Why did it suddenly feel like her skin still remembered where his hands had been? Why did everything about him feel louder than the room?

It scared her a little bit- how much she wanted to stay and how much she wanted him to ask her to stay. It felt natural to just be next to him, even now, as the air was filled with awkwardness and the remnants of a hangover and too many questions. She hadn’t meant for it to happen- this shift, this unravelling- but now she couldn’t not feel it. She thought about that night a week ago, when she spent hours working on a draft for a potential short film, only to realise halfway that the main character had become him. The way he laughed. The way he got all defensive when he was wrong. The way he looked when he was too tired to pretend he wasn’t hurting. The way he was so quiet and attentive without a complaint. The way he could never point at her, She’d written him into her story without meaning to. And once she noticed it, she couldn’t take it back.

They sat there in that silence again, but this time it was heavier. Charged. That strange pull between them rising again like it always did. It had started happening more and more lately- just staring. Long, unblinking, weighted. Not flirtatious. Not exactly romantic. Just this quiet, suspended thing between them like they were waiting for something neither of them could name. A buildup, a prelude, to something that could change everything.

Riki’s phone buzzed, snapping the moment clean in half.

It was Konon.

With a sigh and a regretful look passed to Y/N, he answered her video call, greeting his sister by ruffling his first and then groggily looking into the camera. His sister was sitting on a bed, the background he quickly recognised as her boyfriend’s house. She had been dating someone from work for a couple of years now but never told her parents- too scared, too shy to express emotions as the older child. She put a cookie in her mouth, waving at the camera.

“Do you not have work today? How come you’re still home?” Konon asked, raising a brow. She had always been like this- assertive, concerned for his well being, making sure that he wasn’t straying. 

“I do,” Riki nodded. “Woke up sick.”

“Don’t bullshit,” Konon pointed a warning finger at him. “It’s so obvious you’re hungover,” and then, it started: her once-in-a-week speech about, “you know I can always see through you, Riki. Honestly, it’s like you think I’m blind. Mom and dad probably can’t tell but I raised you, obviously I can tell when you’re hungover and when you’re lying-”

Y/N, realising what was happening, had stifled a laugh. Her hand came up to cover her mouth but it was too late- Riki was already glaring at her, cheeks hot from embarrassment- that he, a twenty-seven year old, was still getting lectured by his older sister. Beside Konon, he even heard her boyfriend mumbling something about, “leave the boy alone.”

“Konon-” Riki pursed his lips and took in a breath when his sister continued rambling. “Konon- Konon, Y/N is here, too.”

Yeah, that got her to go quiet.

But it didn’t come from surprise but rather, suspicion and that older-sister instinct that always sensed when something wasn’t right, even through a screen. She narrowed her eyes, just slightly, as weight returned back to the room again. Y/N looked between Riki and his phone that was in his hand, held delicately with shaking arms- it could fall off anytime now.

When Riki tilted his phone to show Y/N, Konon’s expression changed. She smiled, warmly, like she always had at Y/N and waved. 

“Sola told me about your filming yesterday,” Konon said. “Riki drank after that, didn’t he?”

Y/N nodded, not having it in her to lie to her- she, too, was practically her older sister. She could never lie to her- respected her too much. “I had to carry him home,” Y/N grinned and Riki, as if forgetting the weight on his shoulders and the air pushing down on him, rolled his eyes. It made Y/N grin wider, looking between him and the phone screen.

Konon’s suspicion, though it still sat at the back of her head, was forgotten for a moment.

“Oh, Riki, you’re gonna get a piece of my mind-”

Before Konon could go on her tangent of his actions being disrespectful, that putting Y/N in such a position was embarrassing and about drinking responsibility, by God’s grace, Riki’s phone rang again- Heeseung Hyung.

“Konon, I’m so sorry, I’m getting another call. It’s important. It’s work. Bye!”

“You little shit-”

Konon’s angry face was replaced by Heeseung’s fresh and showered expression. He was driving and Riki could hear traffic in the background- mixed with Y/N’s stifled laugh. She was almost off the couch, throwing her head back at the banter between Nishimura siblings she’s watched growing up. But this time, for the first time, she was seeing it through Riki’s perspective.

“Riki?” Heeseung called, eyes trained on the road as one hand held his phone to his chest- it was not a flattering angle. But it wasn’t anything Riki wasn’t used to.

“Yeah, Hyung?”

“I’m around the corner,” he said. “Picking you up,” then he cut the call.

Riki looked at her then- eyes hesitant, mouth caught somewhere between a wince and a breath he hadn’t finished taking. His shoulders, which had briefly lifted during the call, dropped again. Like reality had returned and settled too snugly into the room. There was something careful about the way he looked at her, as if unsure whether she’d laugh again or pull away entirely. His phone felt heavy in his hand.

Y/N only smiled at him, assuring and assertive, almost like she already knew what was going on in his head. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll take the subway.”

“No,” he quickly said but he didn’t have a plan, nor did he know where he was going with his words. “I should- I always drop you-”

“No, it’s fine, Riki,” she said again, voice as soft as her smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll text you when I reach my room.”

He stared at her, still trying to piece together what was right and what wasn’t. It felt criminal to let her leave alone, to not drop her off like he always did- like it broke some quiet promise he’d never officially made. But she was already slipping on her jacket, already walking to the door, and all he could do was watch.

When the door shut behind her, it was like she took the warmth with her. The room felt cold again, empty in a way that had nothing to do with the hangover in his skull. The moment- their moment- had been cut off too abruptly.

He went downstairs a few minutes later, climbing into Heeseung’s car without saying anything. He could barely freshen up, the grim from last night still hovering in his hair and his face, his outfit a complete mess.

“You good?” Heeseung asked, pulling into the mainroad again.

Riki didn’t respond.

“Jungwon called last night. Said Y/N took you home.”

Riki leaned against the window, exhaling through his nose.

Heeseung glanced at him once, then back at the road. “We all know you like her, bro. How long are you gonna keep pretending you don’t?”

Heeseung didn’t ease into it. Didn’t give him space to sidestep or deflect or pretend this was just another drive. He just asked- too plainly, too soon, cutting through the fog that Riki hadn’t even begun to untangle. And for a second, it felt like the air was punched out of his lungs. No warning, no time to brace, it was all too much- Konon’s knowing tone still ringing in his ears, Y/N’s warmth still lingering on the couch cushion beside him, the silence they’d shared that hadn’t felt like silence at all. And now Heeseung, his oldest hyung, sharp-eyed and soft-hearted, looking straight through him like he always did.

Riki didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what would come out if he even tried. His fingers curled in his lap and his throat dried. His heart was still somewhere between her goodbye and Heeseung’s question. So he just leaned his head back against the window, shut his eyes for a second, and let the silence stretch. He needed it to say what he couldn’t.

“No,” he finally muttered, under his breath, almost deflecting. “Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s just protectiveness-”

“Riki,” Heeseung said, his voice assertive. “You do know. You’re just scared. This is like Jay and Jade all over again.”

Jay and Jade had known each other since they were kids, much like Riki and Y/N, but- not exactly friends, more like family acquaintances forced into proximity at every wedding, holiday, and summer BBQ. They didn’t even start talking properly until years later, when on some late night whim and zero forethought, they stumbled into a friends-with-benefits arrangement. No rules, no feelings- until there just were. Jay fell first, obviously, but denied it with his whole chest until Sunghoon and Sunoo cornered him during a drunken game of truth or dare and wouldn’t let up until he admitted it, red-faced and pissed off, muttering something about how "this wasn’t part of the deal."

And knowing his friends, they wouldn't hesitate doing something like this to Riki either.

And maybe Heeseung was right, maybe Riki was terrified. Because if this went wrong- if he let himself want her, and he failed- then what? What would happen to their families? To the years of closeness and comfort? What would happen when Sola found out he messed it up with the one girl he wasn’t supposed to hurt- just like he did with all his past relationships?

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking a little.

“I think I just need time to process.”

Would Riki ever come to terms with his feelings? Or did he already accept them but was only scared, shy, of actually doing something about it? He couldn’t tell. Riki was raised with a lot of great qualities- but he was never taught what to do in such situations- tangled, messy, uncertain.

Heeseung didn’t argue. He just nodded once.

Silence hung in the car for a moment longer before Riki finally asked, “Where are we even going?”

“Your studio,” Heeseung replied. “Jake, Jay and Sunghoon are already there. Jungwon told Eva not to come because, let’s be honest, she’s a blabbermouth. I think Sunoo is on his way, we should reach at the same time.”

Heeseung rumbled on like Riki already knew the context. But it was quite evident that he wasn't with the way his brows drooped, lips parted and neck craned in confusion.

“What?”

“Did you not read the group chat?” 

Upon Heeseung’s blunt jab, Riki pulled out his phone and scrolled through the dozens of unread messages flooding the group chat that only the boys were part of. As expected, it was chaos- links, memes, screenshots, Sunghoon’s vague panic, Jungwon’s nonsense voice notes, and Jay trying to keep everyone focused. He’d missed all of it. He was either blacked out or wrapped up in Y/N’s presence while the rest of his friends were planning the next life-altering moment for one of their own.

“Sunghoon’s gonna propose,” Heeseung said, casual but direct. “We’re helping.”

Riki blinked at the screen, still trying to catch up. “We’re... helping?”

Heeseung shot him a look. “Yes. Full planner mode. Jay’s already treating this like a corporate merger.”

Riki groaned. “In all our years of wingmanning and last-minute suit rentals, this is the moment we go full sap mode?”

“You gonna help or cry about it?”

“I’m just saying,” Riki muttered, thumbing through more texts, “this is the first time anyone’s called in a whole council over a ring. Usually it’s like- got the girl, see you all at the wedding.”

Heeseung smirked. “Well, it’s Sunghoon. This is a big deal for him- we all thought he’d end up alone.”

Riki sighed, defeated. “Fine. But why isn’t anyone else involved? Chiara would drool over this. Jade? Karina? Literally anyone with a Pinterest account?”

“Just shut up and be useful.”

When they arrived at the studio, the others were already there, sprawled out across the hardwood floor and leather benches like they’d moved in. Jay had his laptop open. Jungwon was half-asleep with a granola bar in his mouth. Sunoo was scribbling something on a whiteboard. Jake was trying to juggle a pair of apples for no reason.

And Sunghoon? He looked like he had been born anxious. He was pacing, eyes darting, sweat beading at his hairline- and he wasn’t even wearing his skating gear. He was only in a hoodie, an old pair of jeans and the kind of face that screamed I need this to go perfectly or I will combust. His cheeks were even red and they only turned that way when he laughed too loud.

But there was something different about his nerves. This wasn’t the type of nerves that came from fear or uncertainty. Because there really wasn’t anything Sunghoon didn’t know- he knew. He knew that when he proposed, Sarah would say yes. Everyone knew. Because there really was no other answer- they loved each other, they found each other. They were the poster couple for people who think they’re never going to find love- that it’s always worth the wait.

“Okay,” Sunghoon said, clapping once, mostly for himself. “So. Proposal ideas.”

Chaos ensued.

Riki immediately suggested an ice rink flash mob. Jake seconded it. Jungwon started googling sparklers.

Jay told them they were all idiots and pulled out a mood board from Google photos.

Sunoo suggested a dinner with dimmed lights and live violin music. Heeseung backed him up, adding a PowerPoint for venue logistics.

And Sunghoon, poor guy, just stood there in the middle of it all, overwhelmed and smiling and trying not to cry or scream or do both. He kept walking back and forth, kept mumbling about Sarah’s favorite songs and how he didn’t want anything too loud because neither of them were fans of loud gestures- grand, unforgettable, but never loud.

Somewhere after Sunghoon showed them the ring he was going to propose with and Jungwon and Jay arguing about whether Sunghoon should propose in public or an empty restaurant, they started wondering what the wedding would look like. Small, intimate, everyone’s families flying down to New York, rustic and old themes only because Sarah loved the color brown and how Riki was finally going to be a best man-

“Riki, you’re bringing Y/N, right?” Sungoon turned to Riki, sudden, almost deliberate and planned.

It was quiet for a split second. 

Then, grins started to split across everyone's faces. Jake’s eyes lit up, Jungwon snorted, Sunoo threw his head back in laughter and Jay just looked at him, waiting for an answer that they all already knew of. They just needed him, needed Riki, to finally admit it so they could hopefully help him (and end a few bets).

Riki, however, was on the verge of sinking into the floor- to just let his legs pass through the hardwood and enter whatever realm existed beyond the one he was in right now. He’d never been put in such a situation before, to be treated like a middle school boy with a crush- but Y/N made him feel that way, like he was fifteen again with a whole future waiting ahead of him.

He could feel his face burning and his hand shot to the back of his neck. He even whined, something Riki never did, and tried to cover it up with a laugh. And when his phone pinged with a text from her, he was losing his mind.

Everyone burst out laughing.

“I hate you guys,” he stated, blankly, staring at the floor. He didn’t find it funny, not really. He thought his heart would burst. But he was just glad his Hyungs rooted for him- hoped for him. “I really do hate you guys.”

“You love us.”

“Answer the question.”

“I don’t fucking know!” He whined again. “If she wants to? I- I don’t… I can’t say-”

“Head. Over. Heels,” Heeseung muttered, not even looking up from his notes.

Riki groaned again, flopping back onto the couch behind him, face hidden in his hands because he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Because even if no one had said it out loud before, they all knew. And maybe, deep down, so did he.

A few hours later, everyone packed up, quickly and efficiently- work calls started to pour in, some needed to drive across town to get to lunch meetings and Sunghoon needed to get back to teaching his kindergarten students how to ice skate. They all left in intervals, leftover ideas being tossed in the group chat and Sunghoon promising to let everyone know how and when he was going to do it.

And just like that, the studio emptied and Riki was left alone with Jungwon. They looked at each other for a moment, a silent agreement, an understanding that for the rest of the day, they wouldn’t talk about anything other than work. Then the students and more dancers started to pour in along with Eva and they were back to reality, back to life. 

A WEEK LATER, THE NEWS had reached Y/N’s ears- Sunghoon and Sarah were engaged. They were already talking about wedding venues and tentative guest lists, though it hadn’t even been a full seven days. Y/N was invited early- not because the save-the-dates were ready, but because Riki was the best man and, according to Sarah, he could invite whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted (which was a lie. That clause only applied to Y/N. Sarah had said so herself).

According to Riki, Sunghoon had planned the whole evening meticulously. He was going to start with a quiet dinner at their favorite spot downtown, then surprise her with a trip to the museum she loved most, and finally circle back to the boba place where they’d met all those years ago. It was meant to be poetic, natural, a soft-spoken sequence of little moments that led to the moment.

But he never made it past the front door.

Sarah had been waiting for him to grab his coat, standing on their small balcony, arms folded on the railing, chin resting on her wrists. The skyline stretched behind her, dusted in disappearing snow and streaked with dusk, and the wind toyed with her hair like something out of a dream. She was smiling- barely, softly- and Sunghoon said her eyes had caught the light just right- said it knocked the breath out of him.

So he got down on one knee, right there, on the uneven concrete floor of their balcony, with half-melted snow clinging to their chairs and the cold biting his skin. He pulled the ring from his pocket, still unsure of how to say it.

But before he could even speak, Sarah turned around- and said yes. Before he could even say the words, before he could even open the ring box- Sarah said yes. And she said it ten times more before he could even get the question out- “will you marry me?”

Riki told Y/N this through an unexpected phone call. It was late in the evening and Y/N was just entering her dorm room again, tired and peeling off her soaking red scarf out of her neck. It was also around the time Riki usually came home from work. On the phone call, he sounded softer than usual on the phone- she could tell he was happy for his friends, excited for their future and his role as best man. 

It was that phone call that led Y/N walking into the familiar buzz of the ramen bar they'd gone to once before. “I’m craving it,” he had said. “Let’s go?” So simply, so casually that Y/N almost thought it was planned out. But she didn’t know that he wasn’t craving ramen- he was craving her. He just wanted to see her, talk to her, be near her in a way that didn’t demand explanation. It was stupid, maybe, but it mattered to him.

And something about that night felt different. Like it wasn’t just dinner. It was like they were both agreeing to something without ever saying it. It was quieter than their usual meetups, but not in a bad way- it wasn’t awkward. They still laughed, still made fun of each other, still slipped into their rhythm like no time had passed. But something hovered. That night- that night- when Riki was drunk and clinging to her like a lifeline, when he’d said things she hadn’t been able to forget. It sat at the edges of her thoughts like fog on a mirror, begging to be wiped away but never quite gone.

She played with her chopsticks, stirring her broth but not eating. Her appetite had vanished. And maybe it was foolish or maybe it was brave, but she looked up at him.

“Riki?” she said, barely audible above the soft clatter of the restaurant.

He glanced up. “Yeah?”

She watched him across the table, chopsticks clicking gently against ceramic as he reached for another slice of fishcake, and she wondered how he could look so normal. So fine. Like the moment hadn’t etched itself into his skin the same way it had in hers. 

She hesitated, feeling her heart twist. Then she said it.

“That night... what did all that mean?”

The fishcake Riki was holding with his chopsticks had dropped into his bowl with a plop. His chopsticks hung in the air, his lips parted as he stared at her like the air stopped reaching his brain. His eyes glassed over—not with sadness, not quite. Just that soft, heavy look people have when they’re finally telling the truth.

“Y/N...” he breathed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Then, Y/N realised that this was happening- this conversation, the confessions she thought would never come- were actually, finally spilling out.

“Is it?” She whispered.

“You tell me,” he said. “You can’t tell me there isn’t something here. We both know it. We’ve tried ignoring it, but I don’t think I can anymore, Y/N.”

“Riki...”

“I think I’m falling for you. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how. But I like you- fuck, I like you, Y/N,” there was a desperation in his voice, a plea threaded through every word, like he was hanging on by a string and that string was her. And it made Y/N’s chest ache.

“Riki…” she murmured. “I like you too. I know I feel the same.”

And for a moment, he was suspended- floating. He finally understood how Jake felt when Chiara confessed her feelings for him. Heart blooming so wide he thought he’d never stop smiling.

But then she spoke again.

“But-”

Riki’s heart dropped. The flowers that bloomed in the crevices of his veins wilted- just like that, so simple, so easy. That was the power Y/N held over him, realised. It was enough to make him break.

“Sola talks about your love life, you know?” She said quietly. “She’s told me about all these perfect girls you dumped just because you weren’t feeling it.”

“It’s more complicated than that-”

“I’m sure it is,” she said, looking down. 

The ramen had long gone cold. The window beside them was fogged, casting the outside world into a blur of yellow lights and moving shadows. People walked past, laughing, running, carrying groceries, wrapped up in coats and conversations- completely unaware of two hearts unraveling beside a forgotten bowl of noodles, two people that loved each other but weren’t quite lovers.

“But you do realise that if anything were to happen between us, and you pull the same shit with me...” she trailed off. “You realise what that would do to us? To Sola? She’ll hate me for even wanting you. She’ll hate you for hurting me. Our parents... the whole dynamic... everything would fall apart.”

Riki felt his heart break- physically. Like muscle tearing against bone, the kind of pain that wasn’t loud but heavy. Like drowning quietly in your own chest. And maybe she saw it in his eyes- the devastation, the disbelief, the way he looked completely and utterly lost. This was the first girl he let his thoughts wander about- living with her, growing old with her, marrying her, starting a family with her. And it was taken from him, snapped into dust with just a few words.

But she had a point.

He’d spent years with people who almost fit. Girls who looked right, sounded right, laughed at the right jokes. Girls his family liked. Girls he thought maybe- maybe- he could grow into. But something was always missing. He never stayed because he never felt it- not really.

And now, sitting across from her, it hit him all at once.

Maybe it was always her.

Maybe his heart had been waiting in the background this whole time- quietly, patiently, without his permission. Like it had always known she’d come back. That somehow, in some life, in some version of the world, it would be her.

Jayonce once told him about in-yun over a late night beer. It was a  Korean belief- that some people are tied together by a string of fate, waiting to cross paths, to build lives. A thousand meetings in past lives, each one tying you closer to someone you were meant to find again. And maybe Y/N was his in-yun. Like in that movie she’d probably cried over, Past Lives. But did she believe in that kind of thing? Did the girl who lived in the magic of movies believe in fate at all?

“You really think I could hurt you?” he asked, voice fragile.

And for the first time, Y/N looked away from him. “I don’t know, Riki. I don’t want to risk it.”

His hands clenched into fists. “That’s it?”

“Riki-”

“No, seriously,” he said, voice breaking. “If I asked you to risk it- to just trust me, put some faith in me... you’re not willing? That’s all I mean to you?”

Y/N stared, dumbfounded. Her lips parted to answer, to stir up words in her brain that hadn’t reached her tongue yet. Her eyes reflected panic and pain. But before she could respond, Riki’s phone rang and her heart stilled.

She almost felt guilty for feeling relief.

It was Konon. Again.

Riki cursed under his breath, half-mad with disbelief- not now, not again.

Y/N let her eyes flicker between his glowing phone screen and Riki and with uneven breath, Riki picked it up, defeated. He placed his phone against his ear, nostrils flaring, eyes sharp. “Konon, I’m a bit busy right no-”

But she cut him off. Her voice was shaking. “Sola’s in the hospital,” she said. “She fainted at work. They don’t know why yet. Riki- she collapsed. She’s unconscious.”

Everything froze. The buzzing of the restaurant, the scrambling of the waiters, the laughter and warmth of family and friends that came to dine and the pedestrians on the street outside the window- everything froze in time and it almost felt like he was in an expensively shot scene of a time-travel movie.

Y/N looked at him confused, worried about the way his face went pale under the restaurant’s warm air, lips parted in shock. He couldn’t even find the breath to speak. And suddenly, the world around him resumed again, but he couldn’t feel his heartbeat anymore, couldn’t feel the air entering and exiting his lungs anymore. 

RIKI HADN’T BEEN BACK TO Osaka in three, maybe four years. The last time he came, it was for Christmas and New Year’s- he stayed for exactly five days before flying back. And in those five days, he spent every waking moment with his family and his sisters, either going to movies, malls, restaurants or dancing together in their hall. They cooked a huge Christmas dinner like they did every year and burst fire crackers when New Year’s came and before he left, the siblings gathered to take down the heavy decorations. That winter, Y/N and her family flew to China for vacation- he hadn’t seen her, slipped between his fingers like loose sand.

But stepping foot into Osaka with Y/N by his side was something he never thought would happen- not anytime soon, at least.

The second Riki and Y/N comprehended what had happened to Sola, they went into autopilot. The first thing that Riki did was call Jay because he had contacts to get them plane tickets and they needed them fast. Riki drove them to Y/N’s dorm, gave her exactly thirty minutes to pack whatever she needed and then they drove back to his apartment so he could pack a suitcase too. And an hour later, Jungwon was at his doorstep with his car, ready to drop them to the airport.

The drive was quiet. Jungwon didn’t ask them questions, Y/N and Riki didn’t speak to each other. They just stared out their respective windows, arms crossed, watching the city disappear behind them as empty roads stretched in front of them. Jungwon kept glancing at them through the rearview mirror, concerned and disturbed by their silence. 

And when they finally reached the airport, it was a hurried exchange of take care and travel safe and hugs and pats on the back which Y/N watched from the sidelines. Jungwon, still, didn’t ask questions. He simply assured them to think positive and that Sola would be in everyone’s prayers and he waited until Riki and Y/N were physically not visible to his eyes, buried inside the crowd of the airport, before he left.

When Riki and Y/N finally landed in Osaka, the exhaustion didn’t hit right away. The flight had long- restless legs, anxious fingers, and silence stretched too tight between them. Her father was waiting at arrivals, and they barely spoke before loading their suitcases into the trunk and heading straight to the hospital. The weight of it all clung to their skin like static- sweat, nerves, fear.

The reunion with their families was bittersweet. Riki hugged his mother for a long moment, clinging onto her like she was the only source of solace. Then he hugged his father and they exchanged words of comfort. Finally, he stood in front of his older sister- Konon, who refused to cry, let out a sniffle when her brother engulfed her in his embrace.

Y/N hugged her parents and the rest of the Nishimura family. Konon, in a desperate attempt to ease the tension in the air, joked about how Y/N couldn’t make it for winter break but it worked out because she was back now. The pair let out wet laughs and somehow, as everyone sat back down in the waiting room, silence ensued again. By that point, it was Sola’s second night in the hospital and the nurses had only told them to not worry.

The parents were sharing looks of comfort and worry amongst each other. Konon sat with her back straight, staring into nothingness with spaced eyes and chewed on her lips. Y/N was looking at her phone, picking on her nails and occasionally looked up to check the waiting room to see if anyone new had entered. Riki, who was sitting hunched over with his hands women together, right knee bouncing, was simply staring at Y/N- wondering, confused, surprised. 

He knew his mother had probably already cried, he could tell from her squinted eyes and puffy cheeks. His father, probably, shed a few tears but would have eventually found the strength in him to console his mother. And he knew Konon wasn’t the type to cry in such situations- she only got angry and protective and became a third parent. Riki was similar to Konon in such situations. He would get angry at his sister for not taking care of herself, get mad at her office for letting such a thing happen and then he would resign to being angry at himself for not being able to be there for Sola.

But it dawned on Riki that he didn’t know Y/N well enough to know what her reaction would be. In his head, a huge part of Y/N was still the eleven year old kid he had left behind when he left for New York. A kid who cried for every little thing, a kid who was more mischievous than Sola, a kid who loved ice cream and beaches and horror movies and a kid who… was simply a kid. And he knew her New York counterpart, the creative and confident girl that explored more of the city in six months more than Riki could in two years. But he didn’t know everything in between.

He was half expecting her to cry, to sob and pray for her best friend’s health to return to normal. But he also half expected her to laugh throughout the whole thing and wait for Sola to gain back consciousness so she could yell at her (lovingly) for making her and the entire family worry so much. But when the doctor finally appeared, Y/N was the first to stand up and bombard him with questions before Konon or anyone else realised a doctor had shown up. And Riki realised how much he actually missed with his absence, how much of their family dynamics he never learned about.

Everyone just stood as background characters as they listened to Y/N and the doctor interact. 

“She’s severely anemic,” said the doctor. “And extreme exhaustion from overwork and dehydration can lead one's body to collapse. She seems to have fainted due to vasovagal syncope- maybe work was too hard on her.”

In unison, everyone seemed to have let out a breath of relief. Y/N and Riki’s father ever smiled a little- they seemed to have dodged the worst.

“She’s still asleep. It’s nothing to worry about,” the doctor said. “You can come to see her again tomorrow. We’ll keep her in for observation and rehydration. After that, you can take her home again. We can keep her on a strict diet or supplements. And someone should talk to her about stress management- maybe take her to a therapist.”

Then the doctor walked away and all everyone could do was look at each other. 

“God bless,” Y/N’s mother breathed and hugged Riki’s mother. “It’s alright.”

Konon looked around and stepped towards Riki. She placed a hand on his back, leading him towards Y/N. “You both should go home and rest- go back to Y/N’s place. Spend the night there, it’s closer to the hospital. Mom and dad and I will take care of the bills.”

Riki quickly felt himself become defensive. His brows furrowed, neck craned in disbelief at his sister and he huffed. “No, Konon, I-”

“You’re exhausted,” she said, firmer now, her voice like steel wrapped in warmth. “And if we let you handle the bills, I’m convinced you’ll get the math all wrong. So just go and get some rest.”

He wanted to argue more. Wanted to stay, to do something, because the adrenaline still hadn’t worn off and his hands still felt too empty. But Y/N caught his eye then- her shoulders slack with fatigue, her face pale but soft- and he let out a slow breath. There was no fight left. There was just quiet, just gravity.

Before they could fully process the weight of what had just happened- the panic at the airport, the sprint through security, the silence in the car- Y/N’s father was already guiding them back outside, back into the Osaka air that felt a little less sharp now.

And somewhere in the warmth of that car ride, between the quiet radio and the blurred and familiar streetlights, they realized they’d flown halfway across the world in a panic over something that turned out to be manageable, fixable. Not nearly as catastrophic as they feared. And yet, neither of them regretted it. Because they needed to be there and nothing else would have made sense.

Y/N’s house was exactly as Riki remembered it. Warm, comforting, subtly grand in the way old money felt when it didn’t need to prove itself. The ceilings were high, the walls painted in creamy tones that caught sunlight like a diamond. The curtains were still a bit too floral, the kind of print Y/N always said she hated but never actually changed. The hallway mirror was still crooked, hanging like it had given up on being straight years ago. The furniture hadn’t shifted in over a decade, and the floorboards still creaked in the exact same places. It smelled like vanilla and books and whatever incense her mother liked to burn on Sundays. It smelled like memory.

And for a second, Riki felt like he was thirteen again.

He remembered the first time he’d ever stepped into this house- awkward limbs, shaggy hair, a little too cool for his own good. He’d been sent to pick up Sola, who’d forgotten her dance shoes or jacket or some other emergency at Y/N’s. He rang the bell, no one answered, so he let himself in. And what he found was chaos- Sola and Y/N had turned the living room into a fortress of blankets and snacks, half of which had spilled onto the rug. Crumbs in the couch cushions, juice on the wooden floor. Riki had sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and cleaned the whole place up before Y/N’s parents got back. He remembered Sola crying because he’d scolded her, and Y/N crying because Sola cried. He remembered thinking, even then, how this house- this life- felt different, softer, safer.

Now, years later, stepping inside again with the weight of their shared history trailing behind him, it felt like nothing had changed. And that was what made it all hit harder.

It felt like walking back into the beginning.

Quietly, they padded upstairs while Y/N’s parents took their suitcases from them and kept them in a corner to deal with later. Oneflight, and then the next, they carried their backpacks and an overwhelming sense of fatigue. She hadn’t been home in nearly eight months, but slipping back into it felt seamless, like pressing play on a paused moment. For Riki, however, he wasn't even sure how to feel. 

The last time he came back, he could emotionally prepare for it. But now, with the frenzy and panic that led him back to his hometown- -he didn’t know if it was appropriate to feel indifference to Osaka’s air and he didn’t know if it was appropriate to feel at home because New York had become his home. Somewhere between accommodating a thick accent which had people mistaking him for an actual New Yorker and the work and home he made for himself, New York had become his home.

But perhaps, to the child inside him that was still confused and immature, Osaka was as familiar as home could be.

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom and Riki stood across from her, in front of the guest bedroom. They had their backs turned to each other but they could still feel it- how they both hovered and how they were waiting for something they couldn’t define. For a moment, Riki’s hand gripped the doorknob and he twisted it but didn’t quite open the door.

And then, from the quiet, Riki spoke- voice low, nearly swallowed by the night. “Just give me a chance, Y/N.”

She turned toward him, her silhouette framed by the warm lamp light behind her. In the dark, his eyes found hers. There was no bravado in them, no performative charm. Just truth, just that same raw, aching hope she’d seen in the ramen bar.

She didn’t say anything.

Just offered him one last look- quiet, unreadable- and disappeared into her room, the door clicking shut like punctuation.

WHEN THE ENTIRE FAMILY PILED into the hospital room, Sola’s eyes were fluttering open. It was a symphony of a crowd, one holding flowers, one holding baskets of fruits, and one holding home cooked food and bags of her favourite snacks. And between the crowd, Riki and Y/N emerged like they were the actual gift and everything else was a prelude. At the sight of them, Sola wasn’t groggy anymore- her eyes lit up, smile widened and she fought to sit up against the uncomfortable bed.

“No way!” She said, opening her arms to pull both of them in for a simultaneous hug.

Riki and Y/N ignored the way their cheeks brushed against each other and shoulders knocked in Sola’s embrace. The warmth came as fast as it had left, mixing with the cold of the hospital’s sanitary air.

“Surprise,” Riki grinned, ruffling his sister’s dyed bronze hair. The day she got her hair colored to that, he remembered scolding her through video call just the way their parents did. But two days later, he himself went to the parlour and got blonde highlights- oreo hair, they called it. It suited him well.

“You absolute bitch,” Y/N, though she obviously didn’t mean any harm by it with that dopey smile on her mouth, hit Sola up the head before hugging her again. The parents groaned about language in the background, rendering the videos they were filming as inappropriate now due to the cuss word. “We were so worried.”

Then, Y/N told her and everyone about how Jay booked the flight tickets the second they found out Sola was admitted, how Riki was hauling his and her ass across town and how Jungwon drove them to the airport. Riki listened to her with his head hanging low in embarrassment, arms crossed. The parents listened to her with wide eyes, surprised at their efficiency- in their heads, they were still irresponsible children.

“You guys,” Sola muled, clinging onto Y/N’s arm and looking at her brother through heavy eyelids. “I’m so happy to see you.”

The morning unravelled into the afternoon as Riki indulged his sister with stories he hadn’t told her about yet- how Sunghoon and Sarah were engaged, how Sunoo was going to send her a few more skin care products from his brand, how one of Heeseung’s dog had recently learned how to chase mice (which he had never been taught) and how Jungwon and Eva finally adopted a dog after months of debate. 

People went in and out of the room, sometimes to talk to a doctor, to get food and water or to simply catch some fresh air. Slowly, the parents were confident enough to go home and Konon announced that she was going back to work (but Riki knew she was going to her boyfriend’s apartment) and eventually, Riki left to buy lunch, leaving Sola and Y/N alone.

Sola, excited, poked Y/N’s side, wiggling her brows- they could finally talk about the things they weren’t allowed to around everyone.

“So,” Sola started. “Tell me everything, what’d I miss.”

Y/N chuckled. “I tell you everything,” she rolled her eyes. And it was true- everything that happened in her life were conveyed to Sola through long text messages or voice messages or video calls whenever they could, late into the nights while Y/N’s roommate was asleep and she hid under the covers. 

The only thing Y/N kept to herself, the only thing she actively pushed to the depths of her mind and her heart, was Riki.

“Come on,” Sola nudged even more. “I know you, I can tell when you’re keeping something.”

If anyone knew Y/N, it was Sola. She knew her better than she knew herself, better that she knew the back of her own hand. It was so cliche, to think of it that way. But the pair had known each other since kindergarten, were attached to the hip until Y/N moved to New York and even then, their friendship found a way, through the screens of their phones and their laptops.

Licking her lips, Y/N hesitated. She looked at Sola from the corner of her eyes. “You know you’re the sister I’ve never had right?”

Sola’s brows pulled together in confusion, feeling the air between them settle into something heavier. “I know- you’re my sister, too. I say it all the time,” she shook her head. “Y/N, what’s happening?”

“Riki…”

Sola didn’t even need Y/N to explain, the puzzle pieces just sorta of… clicked in her head. There were plenty of nights where she and Konon had discussed this, especially during the month Y/N lived with Riki for winter break and even more profusely when they found out Y/N spent the night with a drunk Riki. Sola wasn’t taken aback by the thought of her best friend and brother dating- not at first, at least. It wasn’t until Konon showed her apprehension towards the thought that she finally realised- Riki wasn’t the best and maintaining relationships. They didn’t know what it was, it was so easy for him to break up with girls. He once broke up with a girlfriend of a year and a half over coffee, came home, called his family and told them like it was no big deal.

What if he did that to Y/N? Whose side would Sola pick?

“You know,” Sola sighed dramatically, looking at the duvet that covered her legs. “Konon and I have talked about this.”

Y/N’s heart sped up and she felt her cheeks burn, temples bursting. “What?”

“It’s kind of inevitable, you know what I mean?” Sola chuckled, taking Y/n’s hand in hers. “Best friend’s brother- the cliche,” she rolled her eyes and waved her hand theatrically to make a point.

“Was I that obvious? I’ve never even-”

“No, it’s not about you being obvious,” she shook her head again. “It’s just that… It made so much sense.”

“Oh.”

Who better to be with than the boy that practically watched her grow up? The boy that vowed to never hurt her- though it was a silent promise, it was there. Riki was one of the best people Sola knew and she wasn’t just saying that because he was her brother. She had to admit, perhaps the way his love life narrated didn’t do his image very well- but while he was in those relationships? Perfect gentleman, always in tune with what his women needed. Usually, Sola and Konon didn’t have to worry about Riki hurting a girl but rather, a girl hurting Riki in toxic relationships.

“Do you like him?” Sola asked, her voice firm- but she was supportive, she would always be. “Because I know he likes you- he’s made it obvious, at least.”

Sola realised her brother’s feelings for her best friend when he sent them that picture of the dumpster fire of a gingerbread house they made together. Riki wasn’t the type to bake- he knew to cook, well enough to sustain himself, but to bake? Never unless he was forced. He’d always say he had people like Jay or Chiara to bake for him- heck, he could walk into a bakery and buy himself whatever pastry he needed. And that day, Sola knew for a fact that Y/N didn’t ask him to bake together, let alone force him.

“Yeah,” Y/N trailed, looking away. She was almost embarrassed by herself, that this was the cliche she brought upon them. “But-”

“I know,” Sola nodded, patting her hand. “I know, it’s scary. His love life, the way it’s so easy for him to walk away. But you know? Every time he’s broken up with a girl? He said whatever he did during the relationship felt like obligations, not wants or out of care.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re saying he’s never loved them?”

Sola nodded. “Yeah, and that’s probably why he walked away. It’s better to walk away than force yourself into something you’ll end up unhappy in, right?”

“Right,” Y/N gulped. “Who’s to say he won’t walk away from me?”

“I can’t explain it, and honestly, I’m not going to promise you that my brother is the poster child of a green flag,” Sola chuckled. “But I know he cares about you. I’ve never seen him pine over a girl the way he’s pined over you.”

Exhaling, Y/N told her about the conversation they had at the ramen bar before hauling themselves to the airport. She told her about how her heart stilled when he finally confessed to her, how he was on the verge of tears when she said she was too scared to risk it, how his fists balled when he felt defeated, rejected.

“I’m scared,” Y/N sighed. “I’ve spent so long trying to protect myself from heartbreak-”

“What if he doesn’t break your heart, Y/N?” Sola argued. “What if, right?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Sola smiled at her, eyes soft. “Konon’s thought process was the same as yours. And to some extent, so is mine. But you know, what?”

“What?”

“Who better to take care of you than Riki, Y/N?”

Like on cue, Riki was opening the door to the hospital room, oblivious to the conversation that was taking place just seconds before. He held a can of bread from the vending machine- Y/N’s favourite. Shyly, almost embarrassed, he handed it to her, a dopey grin on his face, like he was making a peace offering. Sola looked between the pair, trying to read their expressions.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, trying to pass him a smile but her heart was still beating against her ears. Their fingers brushed as she took the can of bread from him. She silently opened it and pulled off a chunk to bite into.

Riki cleared his throat, shifting his gaze from Y/N to his sister. “Doctor said you can be discharged tonight.”

“That’s great,” Y/N nodded, excited. 

“Yeah, but Sola,” Riki started, a shift in his gaze as he looked at her with concern. “Have you not been eating?”

Sola groaned, rolling her eyes. “No, I eat, I eat just fine,” she said. Their parents said the same thing, Sola never skipped a meal. But perhaps her hydration habits were more to be worried about. “It’s just that work is so stressful. They dump all the new employees with work and I’m just running around trying to get shit done. So I guess in between all that exhaustion-”

“Quit,” Riki said, as if it was the most simple thing in the work. “Quit and look for something else.”

“Riki-”

“No, I’m being serious-”

“That seems a bit extreme, Riki,” Y/N huffed. “You know how much she struggled to land this job.”

“But it’s okay to faint over work?” Riki huffed back. “That’s fucking insane. Sola, I’m dead certain we can find you something better.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sola blinked. “What if I don’t find another job?”

“Come to New York with us, I can get you a job, no problem,” it was the cockiness in Riki’s voice that scared them. But they knew he was just concerned. “You know Jay and Jade? Sunoo, Sheila, Heeseung, Chiara, Jake- name it and they’ll pull strings for you.”

Just then, Konon walked in and heard what Riki said. She was fuming.

“That’s fucking insane, Riki,” Konon yelled at him. “We raised you better than that. To use your contacts like that? Where’s the dignity in that?”

“That’s not the point,” Riki yelled back. “She’s literally admitted in a hospital because of her shitty job. You want her to continue there?”

“Of course not,” Konon said. “But there are better ways to earn a job instead of it being handed to you. You say that Like Sola is incapable of doing this by herself-”

“My point is that she doesn’t have to-”

“Konon,” Sola’s voice cut through the pair like a feather slowly falling in cold air. “I think I should quit, too.”

“That’s the one thing we can all agree on,” Konon said and Y/N nodded, cuddling further into Sola’s side. “But say a word about moving to New York and I will lose my shit.”

Riki didn’t argue with that. He simply nodded, crossed his arms and shifted his weight on his legs. “You’re sending in your resignation letter tomorrow.”

“But-”

“I don’t care,” Riki interjected. “You’ll find a better one.”

And no one argued with that either.

The room buzzed with renewed energy once the parents trickled back in- murmurs of relief, small talk layered over the rustle of plastic bags and chopstick wrappers. Someone cracked a joke about hospital food being a scam, and laughter rang out, thin but genuine. The sushi wasn’t great- rice a little too cold, wasabi packets already hardening at the edges- but no one seemed to mind. It was comfort, in its own tired, familiar way that Riki hadn’t experienced in a while.

Y/N stayed curled beside Sola, careful not to jostle her too much, quietly feeding her bites of tamago when their mother wasn’t looking. Across the room, Riki stood leaning against the window, arms crossed, eyes distant. He wasn’t sulking, not exactly- just... processing. Letting the adrenaline wear off. Letting everything catch up to him.

When Y/N glanced over, he met her gaze. There wasn’t much said- there didn’t need to be- but the look in his eyes told her he needed air. That they did.

Later, once the sun had dipped and visiting hours were gently winding down, Konon offered to drop them back to Y/N’s house. But Y/N stood up, brushing stray rice grains off her lap, and said, “it’s okay. We’ll walk.” And Riki was already grabbing his coat.

No one stopped them. Not because they didn’t care, but because they understood. The kind of understanding that only lives in families built on shared histories and unspoken truths. It was cold outside, but not painfully so- the kind of cold that made your breath visible and your hands seek warmth. They didn’t say much at first, just walked, shoulders brushing occasionally, steps falling into sync without effort.

And somewhere along the way- maybe a few blocks in- Riki slipped his hands into his pockets and quietly asked, “How long are you going to make me wait?”

Y/N exhaled, slow. “Riki, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Think about it now,” he said, not with pressure, just with hope.

She didn’t answer immediately. But her hand, when it bumped against his again, didn’t move away this time.

“You know, before you came,” Y/N started. “I talked to Sola about it.”

Riki's head snapped towards her in utter surprise, the kind of surprise that had his eyes widening into saucepans and the kind that had his lips parted. “What?”

“Yeah, I-” Y/N let out a ragged breath, fingers carding through her tangled hair. “She likes the idea of it- the idea of you and I together.”

Riki’s brows crinkled. She said it so solemnly. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “But can you blame me for being scared?”

Riki gulped. “I suppose I brought this upon myself.”

They weren’t walking anymore. Instead, they stood underneath a streetlamp, its white glow casting shadows against Riki’s face. And for the first time, Y/N actually let herself look at him, like actually admiring his features- his sharp eyes, flat nose, carved lips and angled jaw, the way his eyebrows help all his expression and the moles that scattered his skin. All his pretty moles Y/N once spent a whole night wondering about, asking herself if she’d ever get the chance to explore them for herself.

“Riki…”

He was towering over her, eyes staring down at her. And then, he craned his neck, leaving down, slowly but surely, a sense of confidence dawning on his shoulders. And he hovered, just close to her face, his breath fanning her cheeks. Y/N didn’t dare look up at him, her gaze fixed on the concrete beneath them. Their noses touched and his lips were only inches away. Her heart had long since abandoned its rhythm, beating unevenly in her chest like it couldn’t keep up.

The way he was looking at her… It wasn’t new. He’d looked at her like that before. In stolen glances, in quiet laughter across the couch, in the way he said her name when no one else was around. But this was the first time she’d allowed herself to admit it.

“Say you don’t trust me,” he whispered. “Say you don’t trust me and I’ll forget. I’ll forget everything and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

Y/N shook her head. He felt her lashes brush against his nose. “No,” she said. “I trust you.”

That was all Riki needed to hear.

In the cold of the night, as cherry blossom petals circled around them in chilly air, underneath the streetlamp, Riki kissed her. He finally, finally, kissed her and it felt like everything that Riki had been waiting for, everything that the universe was working to had built up to this moment- that this was it, this was what was meant to happen. In-yun.

He didn’t kiss her desperately- it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t chaste. It was like he’d been preparing for this moment all his life, waiting for it to happen- slow, passionate, kissing her mouth open. Like he wanted the first kiss to feel like all the time they’d ever lost. His lips brushed hers once, then again, softer, firmer, and she melted- absolutely melted- into him.

Her hands reached up, one curling against the fabric of his coat, the other finding the back of his neck, and when she pulled him closer, he gave in entirely. His hand slipped from his pocket, found her waist, found the middle of her back, grounding her like he was afraid she’d disappear.

The kiss deepened- unfolded like a story waiting to be written- and it was as if they had always known this was coming. As if the entire stretch of their shared past had been moving toward this one singular, trembling moment.

When they finally pulled apart- slow, reluctant, breathless- Riki kept his forehead pressed against hers.

“Please, Y/N,” Riki breathed, cupping her cheeks with his hands. His knuckles were white, his palms cold against her warm skin. “Just let me love you.”

THEY STAYED IN OSAKA FOR four more days. Four days that blurred into motion- quiet, steady, necessary. Sola’s discharge came like a deep breath the family had been holding in, and once she was home, the rhythm changed. Everything revolved around her and getting her healthy. There were tea refills and fruit bowls, her father hovering with a thermometer, Riki furiously googling side effects of iron supplements. 

And the job hunt began almost immediately- Konon on her laptop, Riki on business calls, their dads flipping through connections, reaching out to whoever owed them favors. Y/N and Sola moved slower- side by side at the dining table, shoulder to shoulder on the couch- reading job descriptions aloud, deleting emails, making lists they barely followed. The house was never quiet, not in a bad way. Just... full- of people, of purpose, of presence.

There was something comforting about the way both families just hovered around each other. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. Dinners spilled from one household to the next. Someone would suggest eating at Y/L/N’s, and the next day they’d all gather at Nishimura’s again. Bags of groceries were exchanged without question, house slippers swapped out instinctively at front doors. It was a kind of merging- two families orbiting the same people, blending without even trying.

And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, Riki and Y/N were falling deeper into each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing had ever felt more right. They snuck around like thieves- brushing hands in the kitchen when no one was looking, kisses pressed into collarbones between staircases, late-night calls from separate rooms just to hear the other's voice. The feeling was all-consuming, but not overwhelming. It wasn’t loud, it was gentle. 

Riki walked around like someone who’d stumbled into joy and didn’t know what to do with it. He was over the moon, borderline smug, always finding reasons to pass by her, touch her, look at her like she’d rewritten everything he thought he knew about love.

It was strange, though- seeing him like this. Not just soft, but solid. An authority figure rather than someone that once took care of her. Y/N had never really seen him that way before, not fully. But now… she saw it in the way he’d told Sola to quit her job with no room for debate, in the way he spoke to his parents about hospital bills like he knew what he was doing, in the way he held his phone to his ear at odd hours of the day, speaking in clipped English, moving meetings around, talking numbers, talking futures. He was only a year younger than Konon, but the gap never really mattered. There was a weight to his presence now, a steadiness she hadn’t noticed around his friends in New York.

And despite the busy-ness, the noise, the work- Y/N felt calm. Like she could breathe fully for the first time in a while. Osaka didn’t feel like a break, it felt like a pause. A much-needed inhale. And in that pause, Riki became hers.

Before leaving for the airport, Riki and Y/N agreed to eat at the bistro across from his house. It was a little place folded into the corner of the street, marked by its faded red sign and wind chimes that jingled every time the door opened. The place hadn’t changed at all. Bamboo blinds filtered in soft sunlight, casting striped shadows across the low tables. Paper cranes still hung from the ceiling, yellowed and delicate now, swaying gently like they remembered them too. It smelled like miso broth and sweet vinegar, like warmth and childhood and quiet afternoons after school.

The old owner- Obaachan, as they’d always called her- let out a soft gasp the second she saw Riki. She hadn’t seen him in years, and her hands flew to his cheeks, pinching and patting him like he was still a teenager who needed feeding. Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “You never come anymore,” she scolded, only to immediately fuss over them and shuffle behind the familiar and old wooden counter, muttering about making them something fresh.

As she placed sushi down in front of them, still warm from the press, she looked between them and said- completely deadpanned- “Have you both finally started dating?” Y/N nearly dropped her chopsticks. Riki froze mid-bite. But neither of them responded. They just looked at each other and laughed, soft and shy, a kind of laughter that made Obaachan squint knowingly.

Later, bellies full and hearts strangely weightless, they said their goodbyes, bowed deeply to thank her, and left for the airport.

They were dropped off at the airport with the usual chaos- half-laced shoes, last-minute photo ops, and bags that felt heavier with meaning than weight. It was yet another bittersweet goodbye, the kind that lingered in the chest. Tight hugs were shared, promises whispered into jacket collars, and cheeks pressed just a moment longer than necessary. 

Before they could pass through the gate, Konon pulled Riki aside, arms crossed and eyes sharp with emotion. She leaned in, lowered her voice, and whispered, “Go get the girl.” Then, with a teasing shove, she pushed him toward his flight like she always had- just a little too roughly, just enough to mean I love you.

Traveling together now, after everything, felt natural, like slipping into fluffy pyjamas. They talked through the boarding, through the takeoff, through the quiet lull in the air, and when they weren’t talking, they were curled into each other, legs tangled, heads resting on shoulders, the hum of the cabin fading behind them.

By the time they landed in New York, there was a lightness between them that hadn’t been there before. Jake was waiting at arrivals, leaning against his car with coffees in hand. The second he spotted them, he blinked. Because this wasn’t the same pair Jungwon had described five days ago- stressed, distracted, practically vibrating with burden. This was different. They were beaming, giggling against one another as they pushed their luggage cart, eyes wrinkling at the corners from happiness.

“Well,” Jake hummed when they approached him. The pair greeted him merrily, Riki hugging him with a pat on the back. “How’s your sister?”

“Great,” Riki smiled and moved to fit their luggage into the trunk of the car. “I think we found her a better job, she starts in a week.”

“That’s great,” Jake sounded like he was walking on eggshells as he looked between the pair. “How was Osaka?”

“Beautiful, as always,” Y/N chimed. She sat in the back with Riki and Jake frowned when he looked at the passenger seat beside him.

He brushed it off, shaking his head and starting the car. “You two seem-”

“Just happy,” Riki cut him off. “And relieved.”

“Right,” it was safe to say that he would be calling Chiara and Sunghoon the second he dropped the two off to gossip. Jake was so sure something must have happened between the two in their five day stay in Osaka- he was willing to bet on it. He could easily milk a few dollars from Heeseung or Jay if he played his cards right.

Jake didn’t say much else on the drive back, only listened to his youngest friend ramble about Osaka and how different it had looked and about his big sister’s secret boyfriend and how he ate at the bistro across from his house after so long. His replies came in nods and hums, eyes darting at the rearview mirror occasionally to find Y/N’s head sleepily resting against Riki’s shoulder.

He let a knowing grin slip past the cracks of his lips.

When they finally stepped into Riki’s apartment, they didn’t even try to pretend they weren’t exhausted. Their bags were abandoned by the door, shoes kicked off in a hurry, jackets dropped somewhere along the hallway like breadcrumbs. Riki’s bed never looked more inviting. They fell into it fully clothed, bodies curling toward each other with muscle memory more than intent- his arms wrapping around her waist, her face buried in his chest, breath synced like they'd never been apart.

Sleep found them like that.

And when Riki woke, it was much later- well past the afternoon, the light in the room dulled and golden, filtered through closed blinds. Y/N was still asleep beside him, her lips slightly parted, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other splayed against his chest like she belonged there.

Something shifted in him, seeing her like that. So peaceful. So close.

He couldn’t help it- his fingers moved before he even realised, tracing the soft curve of her cheek, the shape of her jaw, the line of her neck where her pulse fluttered faintly. Then lower, to her collarbone, exposed just slightly by the way her shirt had slipped during sleep. He breathed out slowly, like if he inhaled too sharply, he’d wake her. Like if he moved too fast, he’d ruin something sacred.

His hand dipped beneath the hem of her shirt, resting on the warm skin of her waist. Not greedy. Not urgent. Just… gentle. Curious. His thumb moved in slow circles, memorising her in fragments. She stirred then, eyelids fluttering, breath catching just a little when she realised he was awake- awake and watching her, touching her with a reverence that made her heart ache.

Her eyes met his. And what she saw there stopped her breath altogether.

It was want, yes- but deeper than that. It was all the moments they hadn’t touched like this. All the nights spent inches apart. All the times his fingers brushed her shoulder and he pulled away. All the times they didn’t kiss.

And now- there was nothing holding them back.

He hovered over her, one hand still at her waist, the other bracing beside her head. His face was so close. Close enough to feel her breath. Close enough to drown in her.

"Can I?”

His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper against her lips. When she nodded, it felt like something shifted- something unsaid finally given permission to unfold. Her shirt was pulled over her head, discarded somewhere in the quiet haze of the room, and Riki didn’t waste a moment. He kissed her like he’d been waiting lifetimes. Like the feeling had been burning a hole in his chest and finally found a way out. His lips were hot, hungry, dragging across hers like he was searching for every version of her he had ever loved- childhood, memory, present.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t timid. It was everything they had held back and swallowed down and folded into late-night silences. Their kisses deepened, full of teeth and gasps and hands that couldn’t decide where to settle. Clothes peeled away between touches and rushed laughter, skin meeting skin with a kind of urgency that said we can’t waste this.

And when they finally moved together, it felt less like chaos and more like gravity- like they’d simply fallen into something they were always meant to. Riki touched her like she was delicate and permanent all at once, like he wasn’t afraid of breaking her but terrified of losing the feel of her. And Y/N gave herself to him with a trust that made his heart stutter, with soft sighs and clawed hands, with moans muffled into his shoulder and fingers tangled in his hair.

There were no awkward pauses. No missteps. Just rhythm and heat. Just the world narrowing down to two bodies who were desperate to know each other in every way possible- and now like this. It was all desperate and breathless and perfect. And when they were done, tangled up in each other with flushed cheeks and shaky hands, neither of them said anything for a while, just laid against each other with heaving chests. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Riki looked like he’d just seen an angel with the way he was staring at her. Perhaps to him, she was the angel. “I missed you- I’ve missed you so much.”

Y/N didn’t answer, she didn’t know how to. She only buried herself deeper into his chest, clutching onto him, breath ragged. She felt his palm cup the side of her head, pushing his hair away from her face, trying to unknot the tangle with his fingers.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” he sighed. “I’ve just missed you.”

“You have me, Riki,” Y/N whispered against him. “You have me.”

Yeah, finally.

THE ONE WITH SUNGHOON’S WEDDING

“If you all know Sunghoon the way I know Sunghoon, you’ll know that Sarah is a goddamn saint for coming this far with him,” Riki grinned.

He was holding a glass of champagne, raised as a toast towards the married couple who were sitting on a table in front of him. Laughter rolled through the room. Sunghoon groaned dramatically into Sarah’s shoulder.

The wedding, seven months in the making, was held in the garden of an old, restored inn upstate- ivy trailing up brick walls, fairy lights strung between trees, and folding chairs filled with every person who had mattered along the way. Jake had officiated the wedding (after a failed hunt for a priest who didn’t give them the ick), standing under an arch of wildflowers and saying things like love is not dramatic, it’s daily- to which Sunoo wept openly and Karina rolled her eyes. One of Sarah’s sisters was the maid of honor, and Riki, standing at Sunghoon’s side, was the best man- fidgeting with the corner of his printed speech and praying he wouldn’t cry.

As best man, Riki had also been handed the weighty task of planning Sunghoon’s bachelor party. And of course, he had no idea where to begin. Thankfully, Riki’s girlfriend- who knew how to read people like characters in a book– had subtly nudged him in the right direction. Riki would never admit it to the others (he valued his life), but the entire night was quietly curated off her advice. No wild clubs, no chaos (that was Heeseung’s bachelor party, a story they had never told anyone and kept between themselves). They simply rented a lodge tucked deep in the woods, a campfire, too much beer, old photos passed around like sacred relics, and a projector set up under the stars playing The Lion King- Sunghoon’s comfort movie since middle school. He cried, of course he cried. And said it was the best night of his life (he’s said that about a lot of nights), second only to what would be the next day.

So when Riki stood in front of the reception crowd- hundreds of eyes blinking at him, champagne in hand, heart beating a little too fast- he smiled, wide and genuine.

“But in all seriousness,” Riki continued, voice softening just a little, “Sunghoon is... something else. He’s stubborn- so stubborn about what he thinks is right, even though the rest of us know he’s wrong. He was once dead set on the fact that he would end up alone, but here we all are.”

Sarah rested her head on Sunghoon and he weaved their arms together.

“And he’s the most picky eater you will ever meet. And if you’ve ever been stuck in a car with him while he’s controlling the music- my condolences,” the crowd laughed again, Sarah hiding her face in Sunghoon’s chest. “But that’s okay now. Sarah has much better music taste- so, I guess it kinda cancels out.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but grinned at Riki, eyes sparkling, knowing Sarah was his better half.

“When I first heard of Sarah,” Riki continued. “Sunghoon described her as cold and ignorant of him. I wasn’t a fan of this girl because, well- what do you mean you’re head over heels over a girl that basically walked away from you mid conversation? But then, they bumped into each other when Sunghoon and I were walking past a grocery store. It’s insane to think I was there. And then, they started dating. And whenever he talked, he could only talk about her and her big family and how smart she was.”

Sarah smiled warmly at Riki. He raised his glass to her now.

“But then I finally met her,” Riki smiled, remembering the cigarette they shared on Jake and Chiara’s balcony. “And I realised how much she and I had in common. We smoked together- and also quit together. Sorry, mom and dad, you had to find out this way.”

Riki’s parents and sisters sat somewhere in the middle of the crowd and they all sent him looks of surprise. Konon was flabbergasted. 

“And we were also the youngest amongst our circles- she’s the youngest of seven, and I’m the youngest in my friend group. So we bonded over the fact that everyone treated us like we were children- yet, we’re both pushing thirty.”

The crowd collectively chuckled. 

“And somewhere along getting to know her, I realised how perfect she and Sunghoon really were together. They found each other through this whim, this uncertainty,” Riki’s eyes met his girlfriend’s. She was sitting between Karina and Eva, one leg crossed over the other, brightly smiling at Riki’s speech, eyes shining like he had painted words in the dictionary. Riki’s heart swelled. “And they just kind of kept… picking each other. Through fights, arguments, trips, late nights at work- they just picked each other and refused to let go. Like they knew that this was it, that this was an endgame before it even came.”

Sunghoon and Sarah shared a brief peck on the lips. Sarah was covering her mouth, her smile too wide. Sunghoon was on the verge of tears, reminiscing on his love story with his one.

“You two are the definition of loyalty,” he paused, glancing at the couple, who were holding hands under the table. “And I’ve learned so much from both of you- I’m so lucky to have been raised by you and all our friends. Sometimes I think, without us, Sunghoon would have been in a ditch right now.”

Sunghoon, again, rolled his eyes.

Riki laughed. “But, I digress,” he nodded. “I’m lucky to be the best man at this wedding, I’m lucky to have been a part of your love story. To more years of love, bad playlists, and picky meals to make us all cry. To endgame.” 

Riki ended the speech by drinking the last of his champagne. As the married couple stood up to share another kiss, earning an applause from the audience, Riki jumped off stage and ran to his girlfriend. His tie was askew when he reached her, pulling her up by her wrist and holding her against his chest.

“To endgame,” he whispered to her and she kissed him, a kiss that sealed their fate and history as one.

[steviebbboi]

Good For It

Pairing: Ari Levinson x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.1k~ (no idea how this happened) 🫣

Summary: Ari was deeply misunderstood by everyone except you. What happens when someone tries to hurt the one person he cares about the most?

Disclaimer: This is my submission for @stargazingfangirl18 writing challenge, "Siri's Birthday Bonenanza"~ Thank you to Siri for hosting this, and hoping that you all enjoy this as much I loved writing it :)

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; Mentions/threats of violence, mentions of drugging reader (not by Ari), mentions of sexual harassment (again, not by Ari), explicit language, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, PTSD-like symptoms, Lumberjack!Ari, Veteran!Ari.

Prompts: Ari Levinson x F!Reader feat. Bryce Langley (not involved with Reader at all) + "The moment you or babe realize you’re in love with the other" + "Scary!babe is in love and a simp for you" + "Playful trolling/banter"

Quote Prompts: “Why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” + “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” + “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. + “Can you just…hold me, please?”

Trope Prompt: Scary, dangerous!babe who is only soft with you

Kink(s) Prompt: Size kink + Praise kink + Squirting + Manhandling +soft!dom (ish) + Possessive!babe + breeding (ish?)

Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~

Rowdy laughter and the clinking of glasses came into earshot as you pushed the bar doors open. You greeted the bouncer as you usually did and gave a quick scan of the back of the bar. Once you found who you were looking for, you felt your lips quirk into a small smile as you headed toward the back.

Ari Levinson, the local town recluse with only four friends (including yourself and the bouncer-ish). He’s a retired military veteran and is known as “that weird, scary dude who lives alone up in the mountains.” To be fair, the town’s whispered descriptions of him were not entirely inaccurate.

You could feel the regular, daily stares coming in hot as you continued walking toward the back booths. Although you were used to it at this point, you could feel yourself becoming more tense as the whispers started to creep through.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you passed by one woman in particular who seemed to always let out a muttered comment under her breath—all synonymous with criticism that you never took lightly.

“Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’ll end up in the morgue someday.”

“He just has her wrapped around his finger, huh? Someone should say something.”

“You know he almost beat a guy to death a year ago. What is a sweet girl like her doing with a guy like him?”

“Nobody told her to leave the undesirables alone.”

Any and all comments surrounding Ari’s character felt crushing every time you heard them. In the beginning of your relationship with Ari, you used to cry yourself to sleep every night because some of the comments were so scathing. All these people were just judging you because you were with a person that you deeply cared about.

Ari would be there every night to soothe you (he didn’t care as much about what others said). He would wipe your tears by holding your face in his big hands and kiss you until you couldn’t remember what you were crying about in the first place.

See, there are things that people don’t know about Ari. They judged him based on his background and one incident at the mill. He was hulking over everyone at 6'5", his stature and demeanor a bit more closed off and quiet. When people tried to say hi to him, he would give them a small grunt and continue on his way. He wasn’t a small man by any means, emotionally or physically (of which, your size difference is something you both indulge in, in many ways).

The problem was that they only saw and perceived things from the surface. They didn’t see all of the qualities underneath that make him so desirable, wanted, and valuable to you. With Ari, you felt protected, safe, and secure in ways that you had never experienced before. You never felt disrespected by him in the slightest. People didn’t see that, even through his dark aimless stares or quiet mumbles and grumbles, he still cared and was incredibly kind.

One day, you were working furiously on your laptop as you sat on Ari’s couch. Your work was demanding, and more often than not, you would work your remote 9-to-5 job straight through without taking care of yourself. Ari only ever gazed at you with curiosity and never said anything about it. Although you could tell from his stare that he disapproved of your self-negligence. The next time you sat working, Ari placed some dinner on the coffee table in front of you. The smell of the hot, homemade food made your tummy rumble as you stopped typing after four hours of working nonstop to look up at him with surprise.

“Eat,” Ari said simply and reached out to stroke the exposed skin peeking out from underneath the blanket on top of you before heading back to the kitchen. You usually wouldn’t let anything get in the way of your work, but his act of care was so wholesome and precious that you stopped and ate the whole thing.

Ari came back once you were finished to sit down next to you under the blanket with a book. He made an effort to get comfortable by placing his large, calloused hand on your inner thigh underneath your now-shared afghan before getting back to his reading. You could only stare at him, astonished by how this beefy, quiet giant of a man managed to not only get you to pause your work but also make you eat (disrupting your chain of focus and habits was not an easy feat, just ask your ex-partners). He let out another deep grumble when you kissed his bearded cheek with a soft thank you as you put away your laptop and leaned into his shoulder to read with him.

It was then that you realized Ari, depicted as this scary, violent, tainted, isolated person, was deeply misunderstood.

It was also the moment that you realized you were deeply in love with him.

Coming out of your reverie, you let out the tension that had been carried in your chest as you saw your man start to turn as you finally approached the booth. Your soft smile turned into a genuine grin when your eyes met his. You greeted Sammy (his third friend) as you went to scoot next to Ari. You put an arm around him to give a gentle rub on his large back while giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. As usual, he gave you a quiet, deep mumble of acknowledgement but proceeded to put his muscular arm around you protectively, giving you the opportunity to place the hand that had been shoved to your side around his thick, jean-clad thigh.

“What are we talking about?” You engaged Sammy first, knowing that Ari would likely be more of an active listener, as he usually was.

Sammy and Ari were in service together, along with Rachel (the bartender and the fourth friend, completing the group). Ari was noticeably relaxed with them, as he was with you, but you had no idea how they got the man to talk. You heard stories of their time in active duty, but they never went beyond surface-level details. You knew Ari had done some dangerous work during his time in the military; he never really talked about it, but you could surmise that he was still recovering from it, especially since that incident a year ago.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Rachel threw beer on a guy who was trying to score free drinks by hitting on her,” Sammy said with a smirk.

You laughed freely. “Man, I wish I had been there to see it! Some newbie at the office messed something up, and who has to fix it? Me, of course.” You rolled your eyes and put a hand to your forehead to rub away the fatigue.

“Did you eat, baby?” Ari cut in quietly. You turned to meet his concerned gaze and gave him a soft smile with a rub to his knee. “Yes, honey. I was able to have my assistant run out to grab some grub. Don’t worry.”

He gave another affirmative grunt with a nod and shifted to hand you a beer that was hidden at the end of the table. You huffed out a quiet laugh before giving him one last squeeze on the knee before reaching for the drink gratefully. Of course, Ari had already gotten you a drink but only gave it to you after you gave your daily report. He was always looking after you.

“When are they going to gear up and give you that promotion?” Sammy asked, shaking his head.

You gave a despondent shake before sighing. “You know, they’re a small company. I think we’re understaffed as it is right now. That’s why these new hires keep making these small mistakes.”

“Aaaand that’s why they need to promote you to manager, to teach some sense into ‘em! Ari’s always sayin’ you’d be a great supervisor.” He replied with an encouraging smile.

Now you were the one letting out a small questioning mumble while looking down at your drink bashfully. You felt Ari stroke the back of your arm with a firm gentleness, and you knew it really meant, “Yes, you do deserve more.” 

This kind of touch was often a reminder for you to believe in yourself and that you deserved better things (a tough job for your ex-partners, you might add). Ari had seemingly broken a cycle for you, helping you genuinely care about yourself in a way you hadn’t before. (All the ways he protects you are just sickeningly cute, aren’t they?)

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gave Sammy a stronger “hm” in response and said, “I know. I mean, when will these bastards just wake up?”

Sammy gave a shout of laughter and a “hell yeah”  before giving you another supportive response. You turned to Ari briefly to give him another smile of appreciation, only to notice that he was already looking at you. But the glint in his eyes… you hadn’t seen that before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Sammy announcing he was going back to the bar for another drink.

The two of you were now alone, just observing each other. A shiver ran down your spine at his piercing gaze as you asked quietly, “Everything okay, honey?”

At your reserved tone, Ari gave you a subtle, tilted smile. “I love you,” he said simply.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your eyes widen at his surprise revelation. You knew that you loved Ari, maybe even before you realized it yourself. There were many ways the two of you showed your love and care for each other—from cooking food for each other to gentle caresses during more intimate moments. However, this was the first time either of you had ever said it out loud.

Now you were the one stumbling over your words, struggling to respond, swallowing thickly as you tried to say it back. It’s not that you felt you couldn’t, but the man had just revealed that he loved you, in a bar no less! The guy was usually full of grumbles, deep hums, and mumbles. You never would have expected him to reveal something so vulnerable and intimate in an environment like this. You figured your actions would be proof enough, and that was okay with you. You accepted that about Ari—you never expected him to actually say it.

At your floundering, Ari had a full-on smirk on his handsome face. He seemed to appreciate how the tables had turned. You stopped your mumbles once you saw his reaction to your shock and squinted your eyes in fake indignation. His smirk only grew wider, the glint you noticed earlier now turning into an affectionate mirth that you knew Ari reserved just for you.

“Damn him and his sexy, lumberjack hotness,” you thought to yourself. You and Ari both knew you loved it when he teased you like this. You pretended to be upset, but it was all part of how well the two of you bantered throughout your relationship.

Most of your relationship involved speaking in a language your friends couldn’t quite understand, which only played into the image of how polar opposites you two were. But you and Ari reveled in it, just like Ari was now. You were more embarrassed at being caught stumbling on your words, and felt the need to beat him in your little game. The man hadn’t even said anything in the past minute, and he was already winning. He knew how you felt about him; it was just fun for him to see you all flustered.

“HA– alright, Mr. Grumbles. I’m going to get us some more drinks. Did you want anything else?” you said begrudgingly while gathering your glasses to bring back to the bar.

“No, baby. Sammy said he was going to get us some, though.” Ari conceded his smirk (and victory). Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—Sammy came up behind you to slide back into the booth, but with only one drink in his hand. You and Ari stared at him and then looked back at the beer with questioning eyes.

Sammy got comfortable and noticed both of your stares only when he realized that nobody was talking. Glancing down at his own drink, then toward your empty glasses, and back to your amused stares again, he muttered abashedly, “You didn’t say I had to get you another drink too.”

You let out a small giggle and looked back at Ari again to repeat, “Did you want anything else, baby?”

Ari responded with the same amusement in his tone. “No, love.” He grinned back at you as he said the endearment, which only furthered your fake ire. You pouted your lips in playful anger and met his beguiled stare with your own before standing up from the booth.

As you gathered the empty glasses again, you saw Ari attempting to grab them from you as he also stood up from his seat.

“No– don’t worry, Ari. I’ve got it,” you reassured him, but he ignored you and responded only with a grunt. He proceeded to scoot out of the small booth, hunched over the table.

Letting the glasses go, you pressed down on Ari’s shoulders hard to shove him back into his seat. His eyes widened in surprise at the forceful touch as he sat back down, but you knew you hadn’t hurt him. If anything, he lurched back from you since he didn’t want to bump into you while attempting to get out.

“Goddammit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” you scolded him in feigned anger. You grabbed the glasses quickly and scurried away before he could respond. You only heard him and Sammy laughing at your retreat before the chatter from the other end of the bar became more prominent as you approached.

Setting the two glasses down on an empty section of the bar top, you leaned over slightly to catch Rachel’s perceptive gaze. She nodded with a smile on her face as she made you two new drinks. Glancing around the rest of the bar with mild interest, you couldn’t help but reflect on Ari’s intimate reveal.

A smile spread onto your lips, and you let out a small laugh to yourself. You were in love with a man who communicated with short hums and grunts, and with only three words—he had unraveled you. You felt so happy in that moment to be with someone who could meet you where you were, for once.

At first, you were intimidated by the looming lumberjack, but as you got to know each other, you grew to understand that he didn’t need big, fancy words to connect with you. Ari was the kind of partner who was straightforward with you and never hid anything maliciously while still respecting the integrity of your relationship. You felt grateful to be a part of each other’s lives.

Floating mindlessly in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man staring at you across the bar. You also didn’t notice him approaching until you heard him say, “Hey there, what are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

Glancing over, the giddiness you felt thinking about your relationship with Ari was now interrupted by feelings of annoyance and suspicion. “I’m good, thanks,” you responded dismissively, not even bothering to answer his question.

“Aw, c’mon—just wanna talk a bit. Hey, are you with anyone right now?” the guy persisted.

Looking at the intrusive person, you could tell he was a bit younger than you. His polo shirt was disheveled, and his demeanor seemed careless. If his side-swept hair wasn’t an indication of his immaturity, it was the way he reeked of alcohol and weed. A smug smile lifted on his face as he assumed you were checking him out, when in reality, you were trying to piece together how to shut this down and walk around him on your way back to the booth.

“Uh, I am. Just waiting for our drinks,” you answered shortly, hoping your dismissiveness would be enough to make him go away. Heckling men never seem to take the hint when you’re not interested, and it seems like telling them off only riles them up more.

“Well, if I were your friend, I certainly wouldn’t have let you come up here by yourself. There are some weirdos out here, y’know?” He leaned onto the bar and into you, his body too close for comfort. You leaned back and crossed your arms defensively.

“I’m sorry—let me? Listen, kid—you got one thing right: there are weirdos out here. Almost like some weirdos just don’t seem to get the hint when they’re harassing women who only want to be left alone by the bar.” You couldn’t hold in your snark as this misogynistic asshole seemed to only smile wider at your reactions.

“Right! That’s why you’re lucky I’m here, sweetheart. Considering that I’m being so helpful by giving you this piece of advice, I think that now makes us friends.” He laughed, ignoring your irritation.

“Everything okay here?” You looked up to find Rachel putting down the newly made beers while looking the stranger dead in the eyes. You could see him squirm a bit, and you stifled a giggle—you were always amused to see her put men in their place.

“It’s okay, Rach. I’m heading back to those two dummies, anyway.” You left some bills on the counter. Rachel gave you a look since she always insisted drinks were on the house for you, but you never really listened. She took the money anyway, gave the guy one last daggered look, and made a small dismissive sound before leaving to attend to other customers.

Ignoring Rachel’s reaction, he turned to you and said, “Well, where are these two dummies you speak of? Are they cute like you?” He looked over at the general crowd of women lingering behind you.

You cleared your throat at his blatant ignorance. “Actually, my two dummies are over there.” You pointed to the back where Sammy and Ari’s profiles could be briefly seen.

He followed your hand to see the two men sitting there and let out a surprised “ah.” He looked back at you after seeing the men but couldn’t help but do a double take once he recognized one of them.

“Wait, you’re that guy’s friend?” he asked incredulously, looking at you expectantly.

You gave him a warning look and made an affronted sound. “Careful. ‘Friends’ don’t talk to their friends like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You gestured to take your drinks, which seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“Hey, hey—wait! Relax, relax. That just took me off guard, but… I mean, you do know what he did, right?” He gave you the same look others would give you, almost disgusted, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘girl like you’ would be with a ‘guy like him.’

Your eyes narrowed and you huffed an exasperated breath, preparing to retort, but were interrupted by a voice yelling, “Yo, Bryce, hurry up!” You looked to the end of the bar to see another young man in a polo (god, these entitled kids are a dime a dozen) looking over at you. They wore the same cocky, smug smiles, and you were immediately done with this interaction.

Letting out a scoff, you replied, “Well, Bryce, it’s been real. Now, please, leave me alone.” Not mincing words nor your mocking tone, you started to grab your drinks when you froze in place, frowning as you noticed one of your drinks had an abnormal fizz on top.

“Are you kidding me? Did he just…?” Your thoughts felt scattered as you realized that your drink had been spiked. Your frown persisted as you looked back at Bryce in disbelief. “Did you really just do that?”

Bryce looked nonchalant at your question and, almost innocently, responded, “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He had a dopey look on his face, but he couldn’t even hide his rising grin at your growing outrage. You knew you weren’t overreacting and you knew what you saw in your drink.

“You just spiked my drink—what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You accused and turned to catch Rachel’s attention. A strong grip twisted your arm back to Bryce as he looked at you with something completely vile in his eyes. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear with venom as you leaned back and attempted to get his hand off you. “Stuck-up bitch. You know you would’ve been asking for it if you didn’t have your killer boyfriend to cover you.”

Feeling his hot breath in your ear made you panic even more, his unrelenting grip getting tighter by the second. You shouted while trying to push him off you, “Get the fuck off of me! LET GO!”

You flailed your limbs more in your attempts to make a scene. You heard a barstool crash to the ground loudly, and all of a sudden Bryce’s fingers were no longer around your arm. The only thing in your vision was a person’s vast back.

Ari.

Catching your breath from your panic, the sounds of the bar that had seemed to mute during your thrashing suddenly tuned back in. You registered pained groans and the utter silence, yet concerned murmurs scattered across the room. Looking over from behind Ari’s back, you saw Sammy putting a hand in between Ari and Bryce, who was now on the floor, clutching his nose with blood spilling out rapidly.

“You fucking prick! I’ll press charges!” Bryce shouted from the ground as his friends crowded around him, trying to get him up.

Rachel raised her voice to be heard amidst the chaos and said, “I saw what happened, asshole. I’d be happy to call the cops and let them know about you and your buddies’ attempts to sexually harass my customers.”

Bryce, now being held up by his friends, looked over at Rachel menacingly. Rachel didn’t back down and walked towards the phone on the wall. “Shall we?”

Bryce hissed in pain from his new injury and looked back to meet Ari’s stone-cold eyes. Sammy turned to face Bryce and his friends with a look of caution, almost ready to get into a fight if it came to that.

Bryce took a heavy gulp, attempting to stare Ari down with bravado. He then locked his jaw and scoffed, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”

The bouncer suddenly appeared behind you, making you startle slightly, and pushed the group toward the exit. As they got closer, you hid yourself behind Ari’s back and gripped his shirt tightly for comfort. You could feel Ari’s hand reach for your waist, and you assumed he could sense your shaking and wanted to offer you more protection and ease.

In your peripheral vision, you could see and feel Bryce’s eyes staring at you, almost as if he wanted to say one last thing. But Ari’s grip on your waist tightened as he turned to face Bryce directly, orienting you with him and blocking his gaze from you. Though you couldn’t see it, Ari looked deadly in that moment, removing any access Bryce had to your presence.

“If you ever come back in here, and if I ever see you near her again, I will hurt you,” Ari said quietly, but his warning reverberated across the large space. “And you know that I’m good for it.”

Bryce, still clutching his nose, averted his gaze and continued moving toward the exit.

As the group exited, people still looked over but gradually returned to their tables and muttered conversations. The jukebox came back on at a lower volume, and people eventually resumed their activities.

You were still clutching Ari’s back as you released a sigh of relief. You leaned into him, your forehead resting between his shoulders. The adrenaline had left you with residual energy, and it was noticeably hard for you to regulate your emotions. Ari heard you release one more exhale in an attempt to calm down before he turned to meet your tight grip with his strong hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, baby.” He released your hands with one last squeeze and cupped your face sweetly. He whispered more reassurances as he pulled your face close to his and leaned down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sammy, we’re gonna get going.” Ari glanced at the teary-eyed look on your face and knew you couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t have expected you to, either—he was accustomed to chaotic and loud environments, able to regulate during scary situations. Ari knew this was exceptionally jarring for you, and he desperately wanted to protect you from any feelings of unsafety. His priority since you entered his life was to preserve your softness, and if his hard exterior could help do that, he would go to any length to ensure you felt secure with him.

“Of course, check in and get home safe.” You also turned to give Sammy and Rachel a soft smile and a quiet ‘thank you.’ If there was any effort to expend, it would be that.

They returned your smile with reminders to be safe while driving home, and Ari took your small hand in his to lead you to the exit. You both passed by the bouncer, who returned Ari’s thanks for earlier with an affirmative nod and also gave you a parting “feel better.” You muttered your appreciation and clutched Ari’s forearm with your other hand still in his. You felt that if you weren’t right by his side, if he weren’t touching you, the panic would rush back in.

On the car ride back to Ari’s place, you kept yourself as close to him as possible. The truck’s seats facilitated closeness; Ari wrapped his right arm around you protectively while driving with his left.

Ari appreciated that you felt safe with him. Unbeknownst to you, his own panic about losing you crept in whenever you weren’t by his side.

His arm wrapped around you tighter, and his caress provided comfort for him as well during the rest of the ride home.

Later that night, after Ari got out of the shower, you noticed cuts on his knuckles from his punch earlier.

“Ari, why didn’t you say anything earlier? Come here.” You scolded him as you led the giant of a man (a very half-naked, still wet giant of a man—okay, focus) to sit on the toilet seat.

“Baby, it’s fine—” Ari began to say, but you interrupted him, “Honey, let me do this—why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” Ari let out a rare scoffed smile at ​​your dramatic flair before acknowledging you with his usual grunt. You returned his smile and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Ari watched you as you ventured over to the bathroom counter to gather the first aid kit. You were already in your sleep clothes—simple camisole and shorts. Though he remained silent, you could feel his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. You glanced up at the wide mirror and caught him in the act as his gaze lingered a bit too long on your ass. You stifled a small laugh, and his eyes met yours unashamedly.

You turned to walk back over to him, and his eyes never left yours as you took his palm gently between your hands. As you cleaned the small wound, you could feel his gaze burning on your skin. You took your time patching him up, and with the last bandage, you brought his burly hand to your lips, planting a meaningful kiss on his knuckles. Continuing to brush your lips against the back of his hand, you left more kisses until you reached the underside of his wrist.

Ari’s gaze darkened with every peck of affection you left on his clean skin. As you raised his hand to rest it on your cheek, Ari’s other arm wrapped around the low of your waist, pulling you in closer. Deciding you weren’t close enough, you straddled his towel-clad waist. Enjoying the intimacy, you both savored the simplicity of feeling safe in each other’s embrace. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you softly caressed his wet strands of hair away from his face. Tucking your face into the crevice of his neck, you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly, feeling his large hands rub up and down your back. You felt so small enveloped in his arms.

“Look at me, baby,” Ari whispered softly. He laid a calloused hand on your cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. His other arm remained wrapped around you to support you, and he said, “I know that we don’t talk about this often enough, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Ever.”

You gave Ari a confused look. “I know that, Ari. I trust you. I always feel safe with you.” His eyes were full of concern as you rushed to reassure him. Your own hand rested on his bearded cheek. “I know that what happened at the mill last year has lingered a bit.”

He turned his gaze downward until you cooed at him, making him look back at you. “Hey, I know you. I know that you were only doing what you thought was right. At that moment, it was about protecting Sammy. The guy was making threats against you both. It made sense that you went to defend yourself.”

Ari was quiet for a minute. You continued stroking his cheek to let him process. This was a vulnerable conversation for Ari that his usual grunts couldn’t explain.

He broke the silence by saying, “I lied to you.”

Your heart froze, and you felt even more confused. Your hand dropped back down to grip his bulky shoulder. “What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

Ari met your curious gaze with an ashamed look. “He wasn’t making threats against Sammy… he was saying things about you. Us. How a woman like you shouldn’t be with someone like me—‘damaged goods.’”

Lines formed between your eyebrows as you tried to register what Ari was saying. Leaning into your silence, he continued, “Then he started saying that he would be a better fit for you. He talked about all the ways he would treat you better, and then he shoved me and… I just lost it.” Ari’s mouth twisted grimly, and his eyes held a weighted look. “I just… didn’t want to lose you.”

Swallowing thickly, you reflected on that time in your relationship when you heard about Ari being involved in an accident at the mill. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized there had been no accident, and that Ari had put his co-worker in the hospital. Of course, you worried about the implications of his actions and what it would mean for the two of you. At a certain point, you did question your safety with Ari.

But you remembered meeting him at the station when the police let him go due to it being self-defense (and many of Ari’s co-workers, including Sammy, vouching for the incident). He had the same look that he had now—fear.

In that moment, despite what he had done, you knew there was something so strong and willed behind his reaction. He was so protective and gentle with you, and you believed him. You believed that that was the man that you were falling in love with. You just never would have guessed it came from the fear of losing you.

Realizing you had been quiet for a while as you processed your feelings and what you wanted to say, Ari didn’t move from his position. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for your response.

Releasing a slow breath, you cupped Ari’s face in your hands and looked him in the eye. “You protect, Ari, that’s just what you do.”

Ari exhaled in relief and felt a dark weight lift off of his shoulders, his stomach no longer churning, while putting his forehead to your chest. He moved his arms under your butt and lifted you slightly to do this but you embraced him openly. You stroked his hair again as he started kissing your exposed skin above your breast until he was laying a series of soft kisses up your neck. You both knew what his kisses really meant: “I’m sorry, I love you.”

You hummed out a soft moan as his lips found that spot under your ear that felt extra sensitive to his touch. Turning his face to meet your cheek, he tilted his head slightly so that he could finally reach your mouth. You allowed Ari to control the pace of the kiss and moaned when you felt his tongue softly caress yours. 

The tension in the air quickly thickened into something more primal and electric from Ari’s confession. There was something about this huge, strong man protecting only you that made you feel so worshiped and desired. These feelings start to overcome you and you move to sit on top of Ari’s towel-covered erection only to grind yourself down on him. Ari groaned sensually into the kiss at the feeling of delicious pressure sitting on his hard cock. Your mouths continue languidly meeting each other when you let out a squeak from Ari suddenly gripping your thighs tightly to carry you back into the bedroom. 

You released a squeal as Ari threw you on top of the bed before dropping his towel on the floor. Breathing heavier, you backed up on the bed to get a better look at his glorious sculpted figure and Ari only smirked at your hooded eyes gazing all over his body. Standing at the edge of the bed, Ari decided that you were too far away and he gripped your ankle to roughly tug you back towards him. Letting out another brief squeal and giggle, you quickly sought into his rhythm as he kneeled onto the bed. 

His bulking mass overshadowed you as he leaned forward to place more deceivingly gentle kisses upon the exposed skin of your stomach where your tank top rode up. Your stomach fluttered as you could feel his kisses getting wetter, and were leading down towards your cotton-clad pussy. You whined in anticipation as Ari gently tugged off your shorts to reveal your soaking core. 

Ari let out a deep groan at the sight of your pussy weeping for his touch. Using his hands to spread your legs open to make space for his massive stature, you gasped for air even though he has barely touched you. You stroke the hands holding you down and beg, “Ari, please. Please do something.” 

At your begging, Ari released a louder groan this time. “God, baby. Look at you just creaming for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want me to take care of you, sweet girl?” 

He used his forearms to hold your already squirming legs down as he used his thumb to cut through a string of wet and reveal your thrumming pink clit. Not being able to resist his own yearning, he gave a firm lick up your cunt and released a deep groan at the first taste of you on his tongue. “Oh fuck, you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned and went back into your cunt for more. 

You sobbed your pleasure at the feeling of his tongue caressing your wet folds, “Yes, please, Ari– please!” His tongue continued licking all over your pussy while he released his own small moans at the taste of you. He made sure to thrust his tongue into your soaked opening before licking his way back towards your now puffy clit. 

Your moans steadily increased in volume and small, short-bursts of whimpers fell out of your mouth as Ari devoured you. Feeling his lips suction at your clit, you mewl and feel his thick finger start to breach your entrance. Your head fell back on the bed, your mouth agape at the sheer pleasure you were receiving from your man. One hand tightly gripping the sheet next to you and the other wrapped in Ari’s hair as you kept him in place, your hips started to thrust back into his mouth and fingers. Not expecting for you to turn so wildly, Ari’s mouth left your clit unwillingly. Letting out a whine at the loss of warmth, you press down on the back of Ari’s head to get him back into position. 

But all of a sudden, you felt a sharp smack on your ass and you let out a yelp. Ari was still thrusting his finger, and inserting a second one, at a slower pace when he looked up at you. His lips and beard glistened with your wetness when he said darkly, “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. Do you understand me, baby?”

You could only respond with a soft whimper before letting out another cry as he slapped your ass again. “I said, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, Ari, I understand.” You responded with a glazed look in your eye at the combination of pain from his smacks and pleasure from his domineering words. 

“There’s my sweet girl, so good for me.” Ari said before he kissed his way back to your sopping cunt, his fingers thrusting faster now as his mouth created a suction on your clit again. Releasing out a louder cry at the transition, you could feel Ari’s fingers start to push deeper and curve inside of you to find your g-spot. You let out a sharp gasp once you felt him start to stroke that spongy spot over and over again while his tongue started to softly create a rhythmic pattern on your throbbing bud. 

The other thing about your relationship with Ari is that he was the most vocal when you were fucking. He always let you know how you felt around him and freely praised you as you gave each other the most visceral and intense experience. Anticipating more from him, your body rolled with his fingers to get him even deeper inside of you.

Only squeaking out sounds now, your high-pitched tones of pleasure were music to Ari’s ears. Your wet starting to squelch around his fingers and spurt out of you, Ari knew you were almost there. His fingers thrusted faster into you and curved in deeper with each thrust. He groaned, “Hmm, yeah baby? Is this the spot right here?”

You couldn’t conjure up a response as you were only experiencing the immense pleasure that he was giving to you and almost animalistic groans started leaving your throat. Ari looked up to see your head thrown back on the bed and your upper body contorting, your tanktop having ridden up and was now showing your beautiful perky, round breasts. Nipples peaked in heightened pleasure. Witnessing you like this was a privilege for Ari and he never thought you looked more beautiful than when you were writhing for him in the bedroom. 

A deep desire to witness more of you, Ari increased his efforts by pushing down on your tummy just above your mount. “Yeah, that’s the spot. Be a good girl for me, and let me have it. Let go for me.” He breathes against your slit while giving you one last intentional suck and rapid licking at your clit. 

Inhaling sharply, his words were your undoing as you felt that tight knot inside of you tear in ecstasy. Your head tossed back in euphoria as you cum hard, your pussy clenched around his fingers. Though, Ari didn’t stop thrusting his fingers deep inside of you. Whispering good girl and so sweet against your thrumming folds as he continued to coach you through your release. 

You let out a satiated whimper at experiencing your orgasm but Ari wasn’t stopping. If anything, his fingers curved into your g-spot faster and his tongue licked harder at your humming, swollen clit. You did thrash at the overstimulation. Your disobedience resulted in Ari slapping your ass once more. Even though it was served as a punishment, it seemed to only end up heightening your yearning for a second release. Noticing that your juices were spurting out excessively now, Ari kept slapping your ass as your pussy gripped tighter onto his large fingers. 

Letting out a myriad of whimpers and desperate moans, you sobbed out, “Ari please, please…I can’t do it, please!”

“Yes, you can baby, you can. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You couldn’t answer him other than your random babblings– you couldn’t even think as you felt so consumed by the pleasure that he was giving you. You felt like you were being consumed by him and adored at the same time. 

A cry left your lips as he slapped your ass harder. “I asked you a question, are you my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, please, let me cum, please!” You sobbed out. 

Ari grunted deeply, “Your pussy is begging for it– you hear that?” He quieted only for the sounds of your own wetness slopping out of you to fill the space. “Mmm, see, I know you can do it, just one more, love.” Ari went back to suckling on your clit while he rubbed and grabbed at your now pink-colored flesh. 

Hearing him use this endearment again as his lips never left your body made your eyes roll up and you inadvertently held your breath as you let go for the second time. You register Ari’s moans and praise against your clit as you squirt your cum into his awaiting mouth. 

All you could let out were quiet mumbles of satisfaction as Ari’s fingers slowed. Your body was still jerking as it carried out aftershocks of your release, and you let out another sharp breath as Ari left one last kiss on your velvety folds. 

You were attempting to catch your breath as Ari kissed his way up your body, spending some time on your nipples by taking one in his mouth while his hand caressed your other breast. Ari brought up his fingers that were just inside of you to stroke your nipple and groaned as you glistened with your own cum. Leaning down, he took your nipple in his mouth again to suck it clean. You moaned softly and arched your back to give him more access as your hands stroked affectionately through his hair.  

Working his way back towards your bite-ridden lips, Ari slanted his wet mouth over yours as you taste yourself on his tongue. The both of you moaned as you continued making out leisurely. Ari pulled back to lick your lips sensually before dipping into your open mouth one more time for his tongue to meet yours in a passionate, sloppy dance.

Ari stroked your hair away from your face. “You ready for my cock, baby?” 

You whined and nodded as he leaned down to give you another wet kiss. You feel him reaching for his cock, hard and resting on your clit heavily. You mewled at him again as he slapped your clit with the wide mushroom head of his cock and he pushed in slowly. 

Groaning together at the feel of his thick cock bottoming in you, Ari lets out a strained moan. “Fuuuck baby, your pretty pussy is just sucking me in. Agh, so tight.” 

He withdrew until he was almost out of you before thrusting back into you deeply. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open as you could feel the veins on his girthy cock graze your inner walls. 

Ari leaned his head back in ecstasy at the feel of you clenching around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned out your name, “Yes, take it, baby. Take my fat cock.” 

You felt like you could barely breathe as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was sinking in so deep and you were gasping for air at all of the sensations your body was experiencing. Besides your mutual groans and moans, the sounds of your union could be heard as you only became wetter at the stimulation. 

“I’m so full, so full…so big, Ari.” You mumbled out, your eyes crossed in ecstasy. Ari let out a condescending laugh, “Aww, look at you. Can’t even speak, can you? Just continue taking my cock, honey, you’re so good at it.” 

Ari leaned up and thrust out of you, despite your desperate whining, only to turn you on your stomach. You feel him kneel outside of your thighs that were clenched together, and only had time to hold onto the pillow in front of you as he thrust back in. You gasped out a high pitched moan and small, repeated sounds of pleasure came out of your mouth as you felt his long shaft pit up against your g-spot with every thrust. 

“There she is, yesss. You’re so fucking tight when I take you like this, baby. Your pussy is gripping me like a vice, goddamn.” Ari groaned louder as your warmth enveloped him. Tension started brewing again deep inside your belly as he thrust faster into you. 

Leaning down, his chest was damp and his hair grazed your smooth skin as it met your back. He lifted you slightly to wrap his right hand around your neck and squeezed. He whispered harshly in your ear, “Don’t ever forget that you’re mine. This pussy is mine, your body. I’ll always protect you, you hear me, love?”

Gripping onto the pillow in front of you fiercely, you couldn’t contain your moans that were now resonating in the room. His possessiveness, his fingers gripping your throat so protectively, and the passion in his words made you feel so hot, you felt that coil in your belly about to snap. The sensation pulling at that area inside of you that felt so full and relieving when released. “Ari, yes, I’m yours! You’re gonna make me cum again!” 

“Yeah, I am, love. Soak my cock, make a mess with my pussy.” He released the grip on your throat to lean back up and take your hips in his hands for full control. His thrusts were consistently hard and deep. It twisted that coil inside of you so delightfully that you finally snapped and cried out your orgasm. 

Ari’s thrusts became sloppier as your juices squirted around his cock. He bellowed out a deep and low groan from his strained throat and followed you as you rode out your orgasm against him. You moan at the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of you and feeling him cum so deep in your pussy made you feel like you were being claimed. His dick was still buried deep inside as you gyrated against him. At the overstimulation, Ari thrust out of you with a sharp hiss and a mixture of your cum with his started to spurt out of you. 

“Fuck, so pretty, baby. Here, let me help you.” He breathed out heavily while his hand left your hip to use his finger to push your combined cum back into your quivering pussy. You moaned out at the sensation of his thick finger thrusting his warm spend further into you and mewled in content. 

Ari kneaded and squeezed your ass one last time before attempting to get off the bed to get a towel to clean you up but you clutched his hand before he could fully leave and pleaded, “Wait baby, stay. Can you just…hold me, please?”

He picked up the hand that you were holding to kiss the back of yours softly and collapsed on the bed next to you as you leaned into his outstretched arms. Cuddling him as your head rested over his chest, you felt him graze his fingers soothingly on your arm. You both were satiated in your passionate release, and after the day that you had, you both were starting to feel the effects of it. 

Embracing you in his arms, the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin felt like heaven against him. Before his sleepy eyes shut completely, you gave him a gentle tap above his heart to get his attention one last time. He peered down at you and gave you a relaxed grin. With his familiar grunt, his eyes questioned your touch. 

You gazed into his blue eyes that were filled with such affection, the same glint that you saw earlier at the bar. A familiar burning in your eyes started to come on at his stare, but you blinked them away to smile back fondly at him. 

“I love you too, Ari.” 

A/N: Welp! We made it -- I'm hoping ya'll enjoyed Ari and reader on this one. Something about Lumberjack!Ari being protective and only having eyes for you makes me feral and that can be the only explanation as to why this is so long lol. I would love to know what ya'll thought! Speak soon, lads~

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[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining using a secluded space on base to do some yoga away from the 141, only to realize Ghost's been watching disapprovingly the whole time.

Like, what you lack in raw strength compared to the boys, you have in agility. You're not nearly as rigid. You're flexible, and it's only because you take the time to work on it. You have several methods but dancing and yoga are by far your favorite.

Neither hobby you can enjoy on base much, because well...you always get stared at. So, you take it upon yourself to clear out part of old studio space used for storage. It's kind of crappy, with cracked tile and dust bunnies galore, but it'll do. You play some music in your earbuds and do your beginning stretches on your mat.

When you're in the zone you're in the zone. You end up in a place far away and yet still within yourself. The burning stretch from some of your maneuvers feels so good you nearly groan. You get lost in the personal meditation. One certain position uses a specific pair of muscles in your lower back. It takes you a moment to realize why it makes you gasp. You bite your lip and decide to take a short break.

As you untangle your body you feel something's off. You're physically fine, but your heart starts to race. Your stomach lurches. You move to stand, suddenly startled by seemingly nothing.

"Yer doing it wrong."

And just like that Ghost makes himself known from behind a shelf. He's in his workout clothes, which isn't much but some slinky basketball shorts and a tank top. Black of course. His mask is the soft one he uses when he's not on the field.

You scoff at him, still feeling on edge but also relieved at no immediate threat.

"You do yoga?" You ask incredulously. "Fine, big guy. Show me how it's done."

He rolls out a mat and gestures for you to copy him. It's a simple move, one you've perfected. And yet he still shakes his head at your form. You try it again. Wrong. Again. Wrong.

"Where am I going wrong?"

You don't expect him to reach over and grab your back leg. He pulls it out further. You stumble and he rights you with the same arm. He tuts at you, but he's the reason you're off balance.

"Lift your back. No. Higher. Your hip should be down."

Next thing you know he's behind you, his large hands making your body twist and bend. You end up in the same position as you'd been in earlier, but this time you can really feel the stretch. Maybe he was right, you were doing it wrong.

You tilt your back up and feel the familiar stretch. It's better than you've ever been able to get it on your own. You can't help the soft groan that leaves your lips. The last time those muscles had been used was before you joined the 141, when you'd still had a boyfrie-

Two hands grab at those spots. Large thumbs work circles into the areas. Despite yourself, you moan. This was going a bit too far but...

The more he kneads the more you fall to your knees. You can't hold the position with your back up anymore. You practically collapse onto the mat, ass up, Ghost knelt over you.

He still doesn't let up. His thumbs dig into those circles hard enough it should hurt but instead you only feel bliss. You bite your lip, it feels so fucking good. Eventually he relents, and stops digging into you. You whine at the absence.

"That feels so good." You groan, voice sounding way too needy for what just occurred.

"M' glad." Ghost huffs amusement evident in his tone.

Ghost grabs you and flips you over onto your back. He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far forward towards your head as he can without hurting you. He does the same to the other. It's a weird position, but it's not far off from some of the other ones you're used to. It burns but it also feels good. Considering you're flat on your back, you feel supported.

You smile up at him, a little breathless but also happy that he's willing to help you out. Yoga did not seem like something any where near his wheelhouse.

"I didn't know you liked yoga. How did you learn about this stuff?" You ask, using your own arms to hold your legs in position as Ghost gets up higher on his knees.

Ghost huffs behind his mask as he looks down at you. He narrows his eyes, his head blocking out the white light of the overhead flourescents. You feel a hand slide between the material of your shorts and the curve of your ass.

"The Kama Sutra."

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[cuteandhughesy]

Crawling Back To You | Matthew Knies

summary: the 5 stages of realizing you're falling in love with your boyfriend’s best friend (college!au).

[word count] 19.9k (…whoops)

warnings: MATURE! enemies to lovers | the slowest of slow burns. like seriously buckle up | emotional cheating? kinda not really? | thoughts of infidelity | drinking | intense make out scene | kind of a unfinished ending (sorry in advance) | suggestive scenes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: this idea randomly popped into my head before bed a few weeks ago and I immediately knew I had to write it. this is for the knies girlies (like yours truly) who can’t help themselves but fantasizing about him—I see you and I got you.

🎵 do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

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Prologue

lucas' arm around your hips is a firm pressure, guiding you through the crowded frat house like he's done many times before. you let him easily, smiling at friends as you pass by them.

your boyfriend doesn't really notice anybody else—too busy looking for his friends in the chaotic crowd. his fingers flex around the dip of your hip, squeezing you reassuringly. "you look nice babe."

he's told you that already tonight—when you'd showed up to his door so you could walk to the frat party together—which, is only down the hall from your door—regardless though, it's nice to hear. you tilt you head back to look at him, eyes lingering over his too-sharp jaw and icy gaze. "thanks lucas."

he hums softly, not looking at you as he continues to make way through the sea of sweat covered bodies. you sigh gently, gnawing on your gloss coated bottom lip, gaze flickering away from your boyfriend.

you and lucas have been dating for almost half a year—which in hindsight isn't that long, but when you're in university and spending every waking minute with a person, it soon feels like a lifetime. you met him in the mailroom of your shared apartment complex during the beginning of last term, and hit it off almost immediately.

lucas was flirty, and so sweet that it felt like your teeth were decaying. he was smart and played on the universities hockey team—it was hard not to fall for him. but as your brief honeymoon phase came to a close, lucas started to get a little...dull.

he doesn't make your heart race, and he doesn't  have your stomach swooping with his stare or touch, and most of the time it feels like he doesn't have the time for you. but it's fine, because he's your boyfriend, and you care for him. it's just a bit...boring, and unfulfilling.

"babe." he starts again, glancing down at you. "were you able to book off that shift? the one during next game day?"

you frown, stopping in your shuffling steps. "lucas, I already told you that I couldn't."

your boyfriend stops as well, turning towards you with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "you did?"

you sigh, a bubble of irritation rising in your chest. "yes. this morning before class."

"seriously?" he all but huffs, dropping his hands from your waist. "I wanted you there."

"and like I told you this morning, there's nothing I can do about it." you've flushed with annoyance, looking at your boyfriend with a perplexed expression. it feels like you've been going in circles about this damn shift for days—and somehow everytime, lucas makes you feel like an asshole about it. you literally work at the arena, and as only 1 of 3 staff members for the concession stand, getting your shift covered was practically impossible.

his eyes flash with something similar to annoyance. "it feels like you don't even want to watch me play, y/n."

your eyes quickly dart around the room, gulping gently as you make sure nobody is watching the exchange between you and lucas—one that feels like it's on the tipping point of turning heated. your gaze flickers back to his, crossing your arms defensively. "are you seriously going to start this here? in front of everyone?"

despite your words, nobody is paying attention to the two of you—too drunk or high or both to have the awareness they needed to realize what's going on between you and the hockey teams assistant captain.

lucas sighs gently, eyes softening as he takes in your closed off, hard expression. "look," lucas grabs the sides of your face, holding you in place. "i'm sorry, okay?" your eyes drop, mind still reeling with annoyance about the whole situation. lucas thumb runs along your cheek, "we can talk about it later."

there's nothing to talk about, you think. i've already told you.

he leans in, searching for a kiss, but you turn your head just before your lips connect—lucas planting an unexpected peck to your cheek.

from a room over, matthew knies takes a sip of his beer, a smile pulling at his lips as his teammate loudly tells the group about his latest tinder date adventure—new flash, it went horrible. his teammate, gabe, wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to date, and after hearing all these different stories about how his dates went, matthew can't help but feel sorry for these girls.

sean, another member of the minnesota hockey team, nudges his elbow into matthew's side, subtly pulling his attention away from gabe and his loud mouth and comical expression—currently acting out how he'd opened the car door during said tinder date.

matthew's brows raise, looking at the tan complexion of his friend. "what's up?"

"looks like there's some trouble in paradise, huh?" sean then shifts his eyes out of the room, down into the even more crowded foyer and kitchen. matthew's eyes can't help but follow, landing upon his roommate, and another teammate of his, lucas.

but he's not alone—you're with him. matthew swallows roughly, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. he watches as lucas grabs your face, stroking the highest part of your cheek with his calloused thumb. there's a few rushed words exchanged between you, ones that matthew has no chance of hearing over the bustling party.

sean continues, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "what do you think they're fighting about?"

matthew watches as you dodge his friends kiss, your expression full of exhaustion and annoyance. he looks away from you, eyes finding sean's deep chocolate ones  "probably something lucas started."

sean snorts. "probably—dude doesn't know what he's got."

matthew hums dismissively, taking an aggressive sip from his beer bottle. the tangy liquid fizzles against his tastebuds, the alcohol already making him feel lighter. he can't help the way his eyes find you again, watching the tail end of whatever argument you'd been in the midst of.

lucas pulls off you, a tiny roll of his eyes. but he wraps his arm around you again, pulling you further into the house and in the direction of the living room.

at the sight of lucas, a few of the guys get distracted, attention pulled from gabe and his ridiculous performance—all of them hollering in the blondes direction. the smile comes easy, and he releases you in favour of greeting everyone, bringing them into a side hug before slapping the muscle on their back.

you do your best to plaster on a smile as a couple of the guys girlfriends greet you warmly—madison, you closest WAG friend squeezes your arm from the couch beside you. you briefly wonder if she's seen the tiff you've just had with lucas.

but no, you can't think like that, if you do it'll just make you more anxious than usual. you gently shake your head, snapping yourself out of your own pity. you stand awkwardly beside the couch while lucas completely disappears into his friends, cheering and laughing as they all talk about their latest win. you blink again, this time to hold back unshed tears.

"hey girl, you wanna sit down?" another one of the wags asks you, her gentle, honey laced voice filtering through the noisy room. "you look a little out of it."

you laugh gently, blinking rapidly. "I don't think there's anywhere to sit." your words stem from truth, and as you glance around the collection of mangled, worn leather couches and stained lazy boys, the space is limited. you desperately wish lucas was a doting boyfriend—pulling you into his lap and pressing a reassuring kiss against the junction of your neck.

"you can sit here." his voice cuts through the air like a knife, sending a usual shiver through your body. you hadn't even realized matthew knies was here—but you should've suspected it when you didn't hear his usual rerun of new girl in his and lucas' shared apartment.

your eyes flicker to his, and then towards the sliver of space between him and sean. the couch is most definitely sticky, and the foam is practically spilling out the cushion—the sight has you squirming. parties have never been your thing, and you've never been one to be overly social—much preferring the silence and comfortability of your own space. if you were to go out on your own terms, you'd often opt for local bars or eateries, which usually provide a more relaxed and tone downed party atmosphere.

but lucas likes frats—so here you are. your eyes find matthew's again, and immediately you're feeling a familiar pull in your chest—one that always seems to tug in the presence of your boyfriends best friend. it's not that you hated matthew knies...it's just....he is one of your least favourite people to be around.

you're not sure when it started, but the combination of his cocky attitude and the way he seemed to always be pushing your buttons with that stupid smirk on his face, just has your blood boiling.

and you really try your best to ignore him, but as soon as his pestering starts, you just can't help but bite back.

he's looking at you with that slinky pull to his plump lips, likes he's expecting you to decline his offer and just turn tail and leave—which you are desperately trying not to do.

matthew's one eyebrow raises, almost like a challenge. "you scared or somethin', y/l/n?" he takes a slow sip of his beer, adam's apple bobbing roughly under his clean shaven throat. he licks his lips, catching the lingering liquid. "I dont bite."

the use of your last name—how it so easily slips through his lips like a song—has you biting down, your teeth practically cracking under the intense pressure. all your earlier irritation has been quickly redirected to matthew, and you eye him pointedly. "doubtful."

his smirk widens.

you shoot a glance towards lucas, but to your disappointment he still hasn't realized you're standing alone—sitting comfortably between teammates and sipping from a mysterious seltzer can. slowly, you look back towards matthew, who's grin has yet to falter.

he pats the space between himself and sean, two slaps against the leather as he wordlessly invites you over.

you can't help the way your eyes roll.

sean watches the entire ordeal like a damn soap-opera, eyes darting between you and his friend next to him—hiding his amused smile behind the neck of his beer bottle.

with a gentle sigh, you make your way towards them, wordlessly taking a seat between the two athletes with an awkward cough. immediately you're warm, the combination of the crowded house and being squished between two large men sending you into a heat flash.

although, matthew may be more of a boy than a man, but you digress.

"want a drink?" he asks you—the smirk evident simply in his tone. your eyes dart to the side, finding his flushed face.

"of what?" you question sharply.

his brows raise in amusement. "anything you want." matthew laughs once, a breathy sound that has you squinting. "there's lots of options—this is a party, y/l/n."

there's that nickname again—the condescending tone dripping from his tongue as he calls you by your last name. you grit your teeth, "that's not my name."

"I mean...It is." his eyes flicker with something you don't recognize, lip twitching as his smile widens. "you're always so wound up."

you stiffen, and you can hear sean hiss quietly beside you. matthew's looking as smug as ever, fiddling with the damp, shredded label of his drink. you let out a scoff, "no i'm not—you're just annoying."

"sure." he nods condescendingly just as he lifts the neck of his bottle back towards his mouth, plump lips expertly caressing the opening and tipping the liquid into his mouth.

you watch him move—your bubbling annoyance clear. you watch behind the rim of the bottle as his smirk returns, and that has you blinking, quickly averting your gaze. "don't you have other people to bother?"

you hear his beer hit the table as he places it down, clearly done with it. "am I bothering you?" matthew chooses to avoid your question, like usual, which has you rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time.

"I personally find this really entertaining." sean interrupts, leaning closer towards you. a half smile takes over his dark complexion, and he gets further into your space, wide, amused eyes dancing between his teammate and you. "you guys fight like you're a married couple."

you head snaps his his direction so fast you neck muscles tighten up. "what does that mean?"

matthew snickers, which immediately has you attention again. "seriously, have a drink or something — you fucking need one."

"excuse me?" your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you're too far gone to care. you're really not in the mood to deal with your boyfriends best friends cocky personality, or his infuriating mannerisms and ridiculous smirk. "literally what makes you think you can say things like that to me? god, what's crawled up your ass."

"alright, alright," he interrupts, one of his large hands raised in a mock surrender. "just chill out, I'm not trying to ruin your night."

without knowing what else to say in that moment, you look away—eyes pinched and lips held together tightly. you grab sean's half full can of cherry liquor—right out of his loose grip—and down the rest of it.

he makes a noise of protest, but you don't even care. the alcohol already has you feeling better, the affects settling deep in your belly and further warming your exposed skin—you've always been a light weight. you cringe at the flavour, letting the last sip linger on your tastebuds before fully swallowing.

"fuckin jesus, y/n." sean grumbles like he's annoyed, but his eyes tell a different story. "that rilled up huh?"

you turn your back towards matthew, facing sean and his girlfriend completely. the latter is talking intently with another one of the girls—completely oblivious to the tension brewing next her.

matthew's eyes linger on your exposed back, your cream silky top dipping low enough to expose the base of your spine. he tongues his cheek to mask the grin, slowly trailing his eyes back upwards. "you're such a baby." he says knowingly, leaning in close enough that his words tickle your neck. "turnin' your back to me."

without looking at him, you huff. "you're so insufferable." you break composure, turning back in his direction. your irritated expression is still lingering, looking at matthew like you're trying to incinerate him with your eyes. "you suddenly care about me or something?"

"you wish." his response is quick—teasing.

sean snorts, clearly enjoying this much more than you could ever.

"do you seriously think you have that much of an impact on my life?"

"I know I do." matthew laughs. "you're really cranky today."

"and you need to shut the fuck up-"

"alright, you two." sean speaks again, looking almost scared as he eyes the both of you curiously. "better stop before people start getting the wrong idea."

you don't even have the brain capacity to think about what he could mean with that insinuation. you shoot off the couch, "i'm done here anyway." you mumble hastily, immediately making your way across the small living room. you weave your way through the few people standing in the middle of the space, lingering and chatting too enthusiastically for your liking.

the other couch comes into view quickly, and you spot lucas just as fast. your arms are crossed as you walk up to your boyfriend, lips already pulling in a irritated pout. the silk of your top suddenly feels too cold—too exposing—and you just want to go.

"lucas." you get his attention, "I'm going home."

his attention is pulled away from his teammates, eyes flickering over your figure once. "you okay?"

"ask your roommate." you spit. "he's fucking infuriating."

lucas grin, rolling his eyes. "you are so dramatic, babe. just come sit with me."

a couple of his teammates snicker at his words, attempting to cover their amused smirks behind their drinks—but you catch them.

"i'm not dramatic." you start, exasperated. "and no, I'm going home."

he runs a hand over his face. "kay, i'll see you later."

"whatever." you grumble, turning away from your boyfriend. you make your way back through the sticky frat house, narrowly missing the beer spilling over solo cups as drunk university students slosh around, smashing drinks together in cheers.

the early spring chill sends you into a shivering state almost instantly—the night cold stinging your skin harshly. it's only when the noise and echoing bass fade into a dull hum that you start to cry, sluggishly walking down the sidewalk as you continue the short walk to your apartment complex.

thoughts of matthew's snarky remarks and stupid smirk are plaguing your mind—sending you into a flurry of anger and vexation. replaying the interaction in your head has you scoffing out loud, muttering irritatedly like a clinically insane person.

and then there's lucas and his rude dismissal of you—his girlfriend for fucks sake. that and the way his teammates snickered at the brief moment of bickering between you just has you spiraling even deeper.

you close your apartment door louder than you intended, kicking off your shoes quickly.

your roommate, cora, looks up from her spot on the kitchen barstool, slowly slurping her mouthful of cheap ramen noodles with her brows raised in concern. "how was the party?"

all you can muster is a growl, opening to cupboard above the sink in search of a glass. your grab the first one you see, immediately filling it up with absurd flavoured tap water.

she snorts into her bowl, shoving some more noodles into her mouth. "what happened?" she questions between her chews.

you finish the water with a loud gulp, placing the empty glassware on the counter. "matthew happened."

his name alone makes cora roll her eyes, but there's a tiny grin that she can't even hide. your roommate is well used to the hostility that lingers between you and your down the hall neighbour. "just ignore him."

it's something that's been said by cora hundreds of times—it seems that anytime you're with lucas, you're coming back with a scowl and a new story about his roommate instead. "you know he only messes with you because you give him a good reaction."

you huff, stealing the fork out of cora's bowl and serving yourself a bite of her beef favoured noodles. they're not long made, and the heat slightly burns your tongue. you hiss through your teeth, "he's hard to ignore when he's up my ass whispering in my ear about how i'm 'such a baby'" you attempt at lowering you voice to mimick the athletes, and that has her grinning, taking back her fork for another bite.

"you two are so weird." she slurps a noddle noisily, "like there's some weird sexual tension or something."

"cora!" you huff, eyes comically wide as you look at her with nothing short of perplexity.

"what?" she laughs, all but innocent. "he's hot!"

"I have a boyfriend." snatching the utensil again, you twirl the prongs through the lingering food. your face begins to heat up, something that feels like embarrassment crawling at your chest. you clear your throat, praying that cora doesn't catch your burning cheeks as you chew some more food. "besides, even If I was single i'd never date someone so...arrogant."

"whatever you say." cora teases further, tucking herself further under her extra large hoodie. you know your friend is only playing around, and there's no malicious intent with her digs—so you let it slide, even though the mere thought of dating matthew knies has your stomach dropping, making you feel nothing less than nauseous. 

"I need to take these jeans off before I explode." you whine, quickly changing the subject. you already start unbuttoning the denim as you make your way down the hall, rounding into your warmly lit bedroom in search of your favourite pyjamas.

you soon swap your party, beer smelling attire for an oversized, stained hoodie and sleep shorts—throwing your hair back and popping your glasses on. already, you're feeling much more relaxed than when you first got home. "wanna watch an episode of stranger things?" you call through the apartment, already grabbing your throw blanket.

"yeah!" cora calls back, "can you bring me the niall horan blanket from your room?"

you snort a laugh, doubling back to your bed and pulling the fuzzy, 2011 one direction throw into your arms. it's been a staple piece ever since you met cora in your freshman dorm, and you learned your new roommate from wisconsin was just as obsessed with the former boyband as you are.

you make your way back into the living area of the small student apartment, your slippers slapping the floor obnoxiously as you do. "can you grab me a coke?" you ask cora as you pass the kitchen nook.

two knocks interrupt you, the sound echoing through the wooden door that separates your apartment from the hall. you jump slightly, the unexpecting thumping catching you off guard and making your heart leap.

cora eyes the clock—almost 1 a.m. her gaze skips back to you, frozen in place with the fridge wide open. "are you expecting anyone?"

"no." you swallow, making you way to the door. "are you?"

she almost snorts. "definitely not."

skeptical, but curious, you grasp the chipping bronze handle. you're hoping it's lucas—lucas who has hopefully come to his senses and has left the party in favour of giving you an apology. with a gentle shrug, you turn the handle and pull the door open in one swift motion.

matthew is there, leaning against the door frame in all his smug, infuriating glory. at the sight of you opening the door, a small smirk grows on his face, and in that moment you think the universe must be against you—because what the actual fuck.

"hey." he says simply, his stupid smirk growing impossibly wide. "glad to see you're not dead in a ditch." your brows begin to furrow, and he continues — much to your dismay. "saw you leave the party all stompy."

you're almost speechless, at a loss for words as you blink up at him. "it's almost 1."

"very good." he snickers, like he's congratulating you for knowing the time. you want to punch him in the mouth and get rid of that insufferable grin.

"can I like, help you or something?" you question roughly, crossing your arms over your hoodie. it's a bit awkward considering the mountain of blankets in your arms, but you manage. "i'm kind of busy."

matthew peers behind you, looking into your very much empty apartment. he sees cora, still lingering in the kitchen—watching the exchange like it's a SNL skit with a tiny, amused smile on her face.

he meets your hard eyes one again. "I don't think you are, actually." he licks his bottom lip slowly, an action that seems instinctual. "are you going to be neighborly and invite me in? or just keep standing and staring."

a scoff leaves your mouth, but before you can protest, cora speaks up, her cheery voice making your heart drop. "come on in, matthew—don't mind the mess." she kicks some loose shoes out of the way, subtly pushing you to the side as well.

matthew smirks at you again, stepping into the small foyer of your apartment. you tear your gaze away from the tall boy, sending your roommate a slightly panicked look.

she just shrugs, looking back at matthew quickly. "i'll let you two chat—i've gotta get the pillows..and...stuff, from my room."

pillows and stuff? her excuse is just sad, but before you can stop her, cora is turning on her heels, practically skipping down the hall and into her messy bedroom.

now alone, you look back at your boyfriend's friend with raised brows. "so? what is it?"

something flickers across his face, and before you can register it, he sighs. "listen, i've come to say i'm sorry for tonight. I was an asshole."

"an asshole is one way of putting it." you scoff, arms crossing tighter. you pause, eyeing his seemingly sincere expression. with a sigh, you falter slightly, "but thanks."

his smirk is back. "welcome." the formality is mumbled through his plump lips, and you swallow roughly at the lazy grin.

"anything else?" you hum pointedly.

matthew shakes his head. "nope." he reaches behind his broad back, grabbing the doorknob and turning it. "i'll be seeing you around i'm sure."

you watch as he opens the door, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminating your dim apartment. you kiss your teeth, a reluctant nod following suit. "oh, i'm sure."

he snickers. "goodnight, y/l/n."

your face falls—a bubble of irritation quickly rising once again. you don't say anything, watching through the corner of your eyes as matthew walks down the hall to his and lucas' shared apartment.

he shoves the key in the lock, and just before he walks inside, matthew shoots you one more stupid smirk that sends your head reeling.

you click your apartment door shut, and as soon as it does, your forehead hits the flat surface, an angry groan leaving your chest.

STAGE 1: Confusion

"can I get three tequila sunrises, please?"

the burly bartender behind the counter sends you a curt nod, turning on his heels as he grabs three empty glasses to begin making your drinks.

the bar is crowded, more crowded than your usual visits, but it is a saturday night and this is the closest place to drink from campus—so it’s business doesn’t come as a shock. you look around the room, eyeing the sea of students and young adults alike—all smiling and dancing together as they down shots and sip their respective drinks.

your eyes find your small table, seeing cora chat happily with your mutual friend, rachel. you'd all been in a deep conversation about your psychology midterm results when you'd slurped up the last bit of your drink—cora already fiddling with the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass.

with a pout from rachel and a plea from your roommate, you slid off the high stool and begin sneaking your way through the bar. you sigh gently, turning your attention back to the busy bar, watching as the bartender works around his co-workers in their hectic environment.

"hey." his voice has you stiffening. slowly, your gaze flickers to your right and that's where you see matthew, leaning against the sticky bar top in his usual stupid way.

you frown, glancing over your opposite shoulder to see if he's talking to somebody that's not you—maybe a teammate or your boyfriend who has magically decided to show up tonight.

matthew snickers. "yeah. i'm talking to you."

you look back at him sharply. "why?"

he shrugs, his index finger tracing one of the raised splits on the wooden bar top. "just saying hi to a friend."

"a friend?" you question, one breathy laugh passing through your stained lips. your gaze turns pointed, looking at matthew with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "we're not friends."

"no?" he hums lightly.

you shake your head once, firmly. "I think you're forgetting how you know me."

"we live in the same apartment complex." his smile has returned at full strength, sending your chest contorting in a way that makes you angry. he's trying to rile you up, you know that by now, and even if you didn't, that grin on his stupid chiseled face gives him away—he's up to no good.

you make a face of faux innocent, mouth falling open to form a small, perfected 'o'. "oh, so that's how you know me?" your face falls, and you grab your wallet off the bar top. your hands are slightly shaky, and definitely clammy due to the adrenaline and irritation running through your veins—it's all so infuriating.

you turn to leave, but matthew's hand encloses around your wrist, stopping you. your head snaps back so fast that for a moment your vision blurs—and you have to blink quickly to clear it.

"c'mon, y/l/n, i'm trying to play nice." his grin falters slightly, looking down at you with a gentle expression.

it makes you even angrier. "well, I don't want you to play nice."

matthew squints playfully, leaning further down into your space. "kinky."

your eyes widen to unfathomable size, and your skin flushes all over. it's exactly the reaction matthew wanted to pull from you, and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches your face further contort into an expression of disbelief and frustration.

you take a few shaky, shallow breathes, trying your best to not yank your hand away and high tail out of the bar completely. "I have a boyfriend." despite the firm town of your voice, your words are quiet, only for the two of you to hear.

matthew's brows shoot up. "okay, I don't know how stupid you think I am, but I know you have a boyfriend—I live with him. i'm just being a dick."

you can't help the way your eyes roll. no shit. it's like matthew finally realizes the gentle grip he's still got around your wrist, and he drops your arm rather quickly upon realization. matthew brings his hand back to his side, fingers flexing as he tries to shake off the unknowing sensation. he clears his throat, eyes not leaving yours as he continues. "speaking of, where is lucas? thought you'd be up his ass tonight."

you hesitantly tuck your wallet under your arm, holding it to your side. after all, you're still waiting for drinks, and you're not going to let matthew drive you out of the bar before you can deliver them. "like you said," you huff, "you live with him, so you should've noticed he was home tonight."

matthew's lips drop in a small frown at your words, because no, he doesn't remember seeing lucas after they passed each other on the way to the bathroom that morning.

the tattooed arm of the bartender comes back into your peripheral vision, and he slides theee glasses in your direction. "here's your drinks."

you quickly menover your black wallet back into your hands, pulling out a $20 bill and passing it to the rather attractive tender. "thanks." he nods, tucking the money into his waist apron before turning away, attending to one of the many awaiting customers.

you look back towards the athlete at your side, who still hasn't taken his gaze off of you, and send him a sarcastic smirk. "wish I could say it was nice seeing you matthew, but i've never been a liar." you grab two of the glasses, frowning gently as you realize you can't quite grip the third. you place them down, attempting another time.

"oh wow good one, y/l/n." matthew laughs breathily, watching as you continue to struggle with three, condensation coated glasses. "are you going to ask for help now?"

you snort, "i'd rather eat glass than ask for your help."

you look like a lost puppy—one of the glasses pressed between your arm and boob, and the other one clutched awkwardly in your hand. your fingers barley reach around it, and it looks like a disaster waiting to happen.

"jesus christ, just—" matthew mumbles, reaching towards you and taking both glasses from you. and because he's annoying and has the hands of a giant, he scoops the third glass off the bar, holding the three together.

he looks at you triumphantly, which makes you want to kick him. "must you be so proud?"

"I must." he chimes. matthew finally looks away from you, which has you letting out a breath you hadn't realized you've been harbouring. his eyes filter through the crowd, brows pinched together. "where's your table?"

on cue, cora's distinctive laughter fills the room. "never mind I can hear your roommate." he begins walking in the direction of the table, maneuvering through the room like he owns it—which induces an annoyed eye roll from you. watching the crowd practically part as they see him coming through is even more infuriating.

you follow behind him, trying your best to keep up with his long strides. "her mouth is almost as loud as yours!" you smile with faux enjoyment, looking up at his side.

you merely miss getting bumped by some hammered frat guy, too busy yelling and terribly singing along to the shitty (but addictive) pop music. you miss the glare matthew sends the strangers way before he looks down at you, a smirk on his face. "seems like a match made in heaven then."

"or hell." you hum.

he laughs tauntingly. "don't be jealous."

"why would I be jealous?"

"took you long enough!" cora shouts, teetering on hammered—she's been pregaming since 5.

you watch rachel's eyes trail to your side, and immediately she's lighting up. "oh and you've brought a friend."

"not a friend—just a nuisance."

matthew laughs, too loudly for your liking, brushing past you to step onto the platform where your friends sit. "think that's the nicest thing you've said about me, y/l/n."

if your eyes roll one more time tonight they're surely to get stuck. "don't you have something else to do, knies?"

cora takes the glass from matthew's large hand, batting her lashes up at him like a damn cartoon character. she immediately takes the straw into her mouth, chewing on the plastic. "thank you matthew."

he turns back to you with a smug expression. "see, y/l/n, that's how you're supposed to respond when someone does something nice for you."

"oh well— I can't wait for the day you do something nice for me!" you clap your hands together like an exaggerated cheer, stepping up the the platform as well. you almost bump into his chest, underestimating just how close matthew was.

he just smirks, eyes slowly flickering down your body.

you swallow. "okay, you can go now."

"anything else?" matthew questions, brows raised expectantly.

"what?" you breathe through your teeth.

his smirk grows. "i'm waiting for a thank you."

you exhale through your nose, eyes briefly flickering closed for a passing moment. when they re-open, matthew doesn't falter, if anything he looks even more cheerful. "thanks." you grit out.

"you're so welcome." he shoots you a quick wink, waving goodbye to your friends before he steps off the platform, making his way back to whichever group of loud cronies he'd been with before he started pestering you.

"you two are so ridiculous." rachel laughs into her glass before taking a hearty sip—her eyes not once leaving you.

you whine, taking your original seat next to cora. "i'm one more interaction away from transferring schools."

cora groans loudly. "oh my god."

the conversation thankfully shifts after your dramatic remark, and the rest of the night seemingly goes by in a flash. you actually end up dancing for most of the evening, sandwiched between cora and rachel as you all scream song lyrics and laugh with one another. it's nice and refreshing—thankfully taking your mind of him.

you end up feeling more tired than you expected soon after, the combination of drinking, dancing and being at school since 10 that morning is taking its toll on you. "i'm gunna head out." you tell cora, leaning in close so she can hear you over the bassy one direction throwback.

"what?" she pouts, her hazy eyes wide. "I don't want you to go!"

you laugh gently, accepting the hug as she throws herself at you—stumbling over her own two feet in the process. "i'm tired." you admit. "do you and rachel wanna come with me?"

"no! the night is still young." cora looks at you like you're crazy for even suggesting that.

"okay party animals." you bid another goodbye to both of your friends, ordering and uber for yourself before stepping outside. you're hoping the chilled air will sober you up a little bit—because the last thing you need is to fall asleep in an uber, or worse, get sick.

you sigh gently, swaying on your feet as you stand outside the bustling bar. strangers and traffic are steady, providing a surprisingly comforting atmosphere.

the door creaks open behind you, the inside chaos growing louder for a split second until the threshold is closed once more. instinctively, you glance over your shoulder, and the sight has you groaning. the universe must be praying on your downfall, because there he is. "seriously? are you stalking me or something?"

matthew's brows raise, his hands shoved in his jean pockets as he walks towards you. "that doesn't even make sense—you've already seen me tonight…”

his words have you scoffing, and you turn your head away from him as you grumble frustratedly. "fucking...whatever."

he doesn't respond immediately, and the night life is the only sounds heard. ever impatiently, you check the uber app again, praying your ride is almost here—but they're still 5 minutes out.

"where are your friends?" matthew's voice interrupts your peace.

"why?" you question with hesitance, your glare pointed as you look towards him.

he laughs briefly, although it sounds more like a scoff. "god, you're so tightly wound! i'm just trying to make conversation."

you're taken aback for a moment, blinking quickly as you take in his words. with a quiet, irritated sigh, you look away from him once again. "you really don't need to."

you peer down the road, praying you see the uber that somehow has magically sped through time. matthew scoffs again. "why don't you like me?"

"besides the obvious?" you question condescendingly, eyes not leaving the road in front of you.

"sure, besides the obvious."

you spin on your heels, which in hindsight isn't the smartest decision because your stumbling dangerously. matthew's eyes widen in concern for a moment, but you catch yourself before he has the chance to reach out. you eye his flexing hands with anger, a grumble leaving your stained lips. "you're just, ugh! insufferable."

his brows raise. "i'm insufferable?"

you nod. "yes."

"really?"

"yes, matthew! god this, what you're doing right now is quite literally the definition of insufferable. like, if you looked up the definition a video of this interaction would play." you breathe roughly, gesturing between the two of you like a crazy person. at some point during your rant, you'd stepped closer to him—close enough that you have to tilt your head back to properly look at him.

matthew's lips slowly contorts into a smirk, one that sends your blood boiling. "you're such a nerd ."

you laugh in disbelief. "que the insults!"

his eyes change then, his smirk dissolving as a more serious and intense expression takes over his face. matthew licks onto his bottom lip, gaze pointed. "it's wasn't an insult."

your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you watch him…watch you. before you can say anything—do anything—the sound of tires screeching to the curb has you pulling away.

the passenger window rolls down, and a middle aged man come into sight. "uber for y/n?"

"yeah, that's me." you say quickly, walking away from matthew as fast as your feet allow you, and practically jumping into the running car, as soon as the seatbelt is clicked into place, the uber is moving, sending you falling back against the seat.

you watch through the window as matthew looks at the retreating car—not talking his eyes off the vehicle until you're nothing but a set of break lights in the distance. you swallow roughly, blinking away the flurry of emotions pulling and pushing at your chest.

STAGE 2: Shifting

almost a week has passed since your...interesting? annoying? pointless? conversation with matthew outside the bar, and you thankfully haven't seen him since.

which is surprising considering you've been at his apartment almost every night with lucas. as much as you hate to admit it, and as much as it makes you angry, you were curious about his whereabouts. anytime you'd been cuddling with lucas on the couch, watching some shitty show he liked—your mind would wander, and anytime there'd be any noise in the hall, you'd wonder if it was him.

where was he? what's was he doing? is he avoiding you? but no, because matthew loves pissing you off too much to just avoid you...right?

you curse yourself everytime matthew pops into your mind, quickly distracting yourself with whatever task you could get your hands on. like right now, ruffling through the snack display on top of the counter at work.

the arena is extra cold today, and as your arms touch the metal basket containing the various chips and crackers, you shiver—not even the team branded zip up around your torso is helping.

"y/n," the floor manager, jason pops into the booth. "we need some more pineapple. can you get some from the players kitchen please? just the frozen stuff for smoothies." his voice is hopeful, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

you sigh gently, kissing your teeth as you turn to look at him. "sure."

he smiles in your direction, but just before he leaves, jason doubles back. "oh! and a few protein bars, i'm starving."

"sure." you nod curtly.

"and while you're there, grab me a green juice?" this time at least jason manages to look somewhat guilty, his grin almost doubtful.

you almost find it amusing, and you raise your brows as so. "why not."

jason cheers. "you're the best."

with that you make your way out of the room, not fully shutting the door behind yourself as you know your arms will be too full to use a handle when you come back. the walk to the players section of the facility isn't a long one, and it's only a few minutes until you're entering the 'smoothie room' — as you like to call it.

it's always in pristine condition, and you almost feel guilty for simply breathing in there. quickly, you grab everything you need from the room, including the bag you'd filled with frozen pineapple and some nasty smelling green drink for jason.

with your arms full, you leave the room and begin making your way back to the snack bar. you round the corner into the most open part of the corridor, expect this time it's not empty, and around 10 of the guys have started kicking the ball around—a pre-game warmup that a lot of them liked to participate in.

you plan to just sneak through, keep your head down and try to not too badly interrupt the ritual—for lack of a better word. timidly, you begin making your way towards the rowdy group, eyes focused as their voices get closer and closer.

the sound of the soccer ball smacking against the wall has you freezing, and before you know it the inflated ball is soaring towards you. you don’t have a chance to react, and it hits you right in the chest, sending everything you'd been previously holding scattering to the floor.

embarrassed and irritated, you sigh, crouching down as you begin to attempt and salvage the mess at your feet. an all too familiar pair of running shoes appear in your vision, coming to a squeaky stop as they approach. "damn, you alright?"

you look up, squinting from the glow of the fluorescent lights lining the corridors. like you thought, it's matthew. his expression almost resembles one of concern, which has you pulling a disgruntled face.

he's slightly breathless, running around and kicking a soccer ball at you must be the cause. he's alive, you think reluctantly.

you look away from him, grabbing the two bottles of green juice and tucking them under your arm. thankfully, neither plastic bottle cracked when they hit the tile.

he sighs roughly, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes. matthew slowly bends down as well, grabbing the astray protein bars from the ground. "good talk." he mutters condescendingly.

your eyes dart up, a scoff tumbling past your lips. the audacity of matthew to be annoyed with you is just beyond comprehension. "sorry i'm not in the mood for small talk with you matthew after you just kicked the ball at my chest—i'm going to have to throw this fruit out now, thanks."

the pineapple is a wet, spilled mess across the floor. the bag had split when it dropped, and the ball has smooshed the fruit as it fell with it. you're not even sure what to do about the mess—looking at it hopelessly.

"I didn't kick anything at you, but sure it's my fault." he grumbles, looking at you once again.

"really? then who did?" you tone is dripping with doubt, looking at matthew with nothing but exasperation.

"ask your perfect little boyfriend." matthew immediately looks like he regrets his words, eyes widening momentarily before his gaze darts away from your face.

"my perfect little boyfriend who's also your friend?" you scoff.  "god, touch some grass matthew." you know it's a terrible rebuke, and the way matthew smirks in disbelief following your insult has you feeling even more irritated with your choice of comeback.

you don't dwell on it much longer as the sound of somebody else approaching you both captures your attention. you look up just as lucas joins you, standing behind matthew with a tiny grin. "hey! babe you okay?"

you stand up, clutching the drinks to your chest. "fine." you nod.

lucas smiles again, moving to wrap you in a hug. it’s awkward, with your arms pushed against your chest and the green juice pressing into your boob uncomfortably. he kisses your head quickly. "sorry, we were all just messing around and I didn't see you."

your face falls, and you pull back from your boyfriend. "it was you?"

"yeah." he repeats, looking anything but guilty. "said I was sorry."

you unwrap yourself from his hug, stepping back. the whole conversation with your boyfriend has rubbed you the wrong way, and even if he didn't mean to kick you with the ball, his apology wasn't enough of a sincere gesture as you would expect from someone who supposedly loves you.

"I gotta get back." you say quietly, eyes downcast as you further back away from your boyfriend. instinctively, your eyes flicker towards matthew's tall stature. you both hold eye contact for a moment, unknown words lingering in the air between you.

you blink, picking up pace as you walk through the hall.

jason beams as he spots the pile of protein bars in your hands, taking two along with his green juice before skipping out the room. trying to shake off the weird feeling from the interaction with matthew in the corridor, you get back to work, organizing the fridge in preparation for tonight's game—you know how much the minnesota students love their alanis, and you need to make sure that fridge is fully stalked.

there's a good 5 minutes of silence, nothing but you, your thoughts and the loading of the fridge—until there's a knock at the open door.

you look over you shoulder, and there matthew is again. you don't know what to say because you don't know why he's here or what he wants. is he here to gloat? to apologize? to taunt?

matthew takes your silence as an invitation, stepping into the snack booth with a neutral expression. he's still dressed in his sports clothes—a team branded sweatshirt with matching shorts overtop compression pants, completed with his backward basball cap. it oddly suits him, and your stomach drops at the realization of what you've just done.

you kinda sorta checked him out.

"here." matthew interrupts your thoughts, clearly unaware of your wandering eyes and the inner turmoil happening in your brain. he walks further into the room, and that's when you see it—a bag of pineapple clutched in his hand.

in your rush to leave the corridor, you'd completely forgotten to run back and get more fruit.

"where do you want me to put it?" he questions.

"uh," you hum lightly, eyes moving around the room for some available space. it's kind of a mess in here, and you really need to get your shit together before you open. "just beside the coffee machine for now."

matthew does what you ask, putting the frozen ziploc beside the kureig on the side counter. he doesn't say anything else, and walks out the room without so much a second glance in your direction.

you bite your inner lip, knawing the soft skin as you blink furiously— trying to collect your whirlwind of thoughts. above all, you're angry. angry that you were hit with a ball, angry that matthew was right about who kicked it, angry that lucas gave you a shit apology, and that matthew didn't even attempt to annoy you when he'd brought you the pineapple.

—

lucas presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, pulling you into his chest on the outskirts of the lit up courtyard. around you is busy, lingering students and staff members alike chat and walk through the space with an upbeat pace.

every year since you've been attending the university of minnesota, the hockey team and staff members would host a barbecue and movie night in the schools courtyard. it was always an amazing turnout, and for only $5 dollars to get in and get something to eat and watch a throwback film (this year being freaky friday), it was quite the rage. plus, the money went to a fundraiser that helped public schools in the area have breakfast. so it’s a win win.

so not only do you go with the intent of supporting the youth of neighbouring schools, but your boyfriend is one of the co-organizers of the event. so of course you show your face.

which brings you back to the current moment, pouting up at lucas with the best puppy-dog eyes you can manage. lucas sighs gently, running his hands over your jean jacket covered arms. "don't give me that look."

you don't let up, but your lips begin to form into a grin. "what look?"

"the look you're doing right now." he laughs once, squeezing your biceps tightly. "you know I have to be all over the place, babe. I can't just stand with you."

your exaggerated, playful pout quickly changes into a real frown—even though you don't want to show that emotion. because lucas is one of the co-organizers of the event, he's got lots of duties to attend to while the event is happening. so although you're technically here to spend time with your boyfriend, you'll barley get to see him.

plus, cora is sick and had no choice but to stay back at the apartment and watch re-runs of friends, and rachel wouldn't be able to come until the movie starts—coinciding with when her shift at work ends.

"I know but..." you trial off, taking your bottom lip into your mouth anxiously. you've never been a huge fan of crowds—especially when it's tightly gathered in a confined space—and the idea of having to be alone right now is rather daunting. "can't I just help you? like just go with you?"

lucas sighs again, eyes flickering out to the crowd around you. the smell of cheap burgers and hotdogs are already filtering through the air, providing the most perfect early spring atmosphere for the evening. he meets your eyes once more, "it just won't work like that. hey, you'll be okay."

he kisses your cheek, doing his best to reassure you, but you still feel down. "right, okay."

"get yourself a drink and just chill—i'll find you when I can, okay?"

you send him a closed mouth smile, breathing through your nose in a gentle exhale. "okay."

with that he turns away, quickly moving through the lingering crowd as he makes his way into the courtyard. you huff lightly, looking around the sea of people to see if you recognize anyone—literally anyone you can stick with until rachel gets there. but nobody is there.

you eventually follow the crowd, entering the lit-up courtyard. it's decorated in various streamers and balloons representing school colours, along with a spread of beanbags and camping chairs set up for the movie. it looks really good, and even though it's not the warmest temperature due to the night sky, the collection of bodies and decor have the place feeling cozy.

you spot a long table through students, full of what seems to be drinks—various waters, juice and sodas lining the gray fold away surface. you sneak your way through, eyeing the options before inevitably deciding on water. caffeine will just make you anxious, and your favourite juice flavour wasn't an option.

in your peripheral vision, you see a member of the hockey team standing on the other side the table—presumably keeping track of beverages and taking payments. without properly looking up you begin shuffling through your clutch, "how much for the water?"

"it's free."

the all too familiar and cocky voice of matthew knies has you freezing. slowly, your eyes creep upwards, only to be met with the light eyes of his. he'd been the hockey player in your peripheral, and you curse yourself for not noticing sooner.

his brows raise, anticipating a snarky remark. but much to his dismay you turn away, walking back through the crowd and away from him.

he turns to mitchell, one of his teammates, patting his shoulder quickly. "mind watching the table for a sec—gotta do something." matthew doesn't even wait for a response before he's following you, easily making his way between the bodies crowded around.

matthew catches sight of you off to the side, seemingly unaware that he’s hot on your trail. he approaches you swiftly, getting your attention as he speaks. "you're like really bad at the whole socialization thing."

your eyes widen briefly, watching as he casually leans against the nearest table.

"maybe I just don't want to socialize with you." you retort, eyeing him pointedly before taking a slow sip from your water bottle.

matthew smirks. "that's mean."

"don't care." you answer, looking back out into the yard.

a beat passes. "you come alone?" matthew questions, seemingly curious.

you cross your arms. "sort of."

"sort of?" matthew parrots, eyes briefly scanning the crowd. "what's does sort of mean?"

you look at him again. "well I came with lucas, but he's busy so now i'm here...with you." the last part has you pulling a face, scrunching your noise is displeasure.

he snorts. "don't pretend like you don't enjoy my company."

"enjoying isn't quite the word i'd use to describe how I feel about you and your company." you retort lightly, brows pulling tightly.

matthew sucks his bottom lip, containing his grin. "okay, so why aren't you mingling? this is supposed to be a event of socializing."

"I'm not a fan of mingling." you tell him earnestly, clearing your throat in a moment of venerability. "or crowds. besides the fundraiser, I only come for lucas."

"yeah crowds aren't for everyone." matthew's genuine tone has you taken back, and you eye with an almost shock like gaze. "sorry that you're dealing with it alone."

you feel weird—why does the sincerity in his voice make you tingly? "well," you begin. "i'm not alone because you've insisted on coming over here to annoy me."

his smirk is back. "it is my specialty."

you laugh a real laugh, a very brief moment of quiet joy that takes you by surprise. the way his eyes twinkle and smirk widens at the sound of your giggle goes unnoticed by you.

"babe." lucas voice calls out, jogging up to you and matthew. "hey." he greets, pulling you into his side and kissing your temple. "I got a minute, thought i'd see what you were up to." his eyes flicker to matthew's. "see you've found a friend."

matthew's eyes don't leave you, waiting and watching for your reaction to your boyfriends words. you swallow gently, "he was just keeping me company."

"she's not a fan of crowds—thought i'd take a few minutes from work to make sure she's settled." this time when matthew speaks, he's only looking at lucas, and you don't miss the underlying message in his words.

lucas seems oblivious to the hostility underlying his teammates admission, a smile overtaking his face. "anyways, I gotta get back. gunner was telling me about this new club out on main—i'll catch you guys later."

as soon as your boyfriend is out of ear shot, you send matthew a furious glare. "what was that?"

"what was what?" he questions innocently, eyes yet to meet yours again.

"i'm not stupid, matthew, you were trying to..I don't know? like one up lucas by insinuating he's a bad boyfriend for not spending time with me. what the fuck." you spit angrily, gaze tinted with fury.

"I'm not insinuating anything, i'm simply just calling it as I see it." matthew retorts.

you breath a shocked laugh. "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're lucky he didn't catch on to your stupid little coded message." you take a breath, arms tightening over your chest. "he's your friend—why are you trying to ruin that?"

matthew takes a step towards you. "like I said, i'm just calling it as I see it."

"bullshit." you chime. "what's it to you that lucas is busy tonight and he's not able to spend time with me? seriously."

his brows raise, an amused expression on his face. he knows he shouldn’t argue with you, especially when what he wants to say will only further upset you—but he can’t help himself. "he's too busy to spend time with you, yeah? but tell me why we're in the same job position and I haven't left your side since I saw you. so call whatever you want bullshit, but the real bullshit is the guy standing next to his teammate doing absolutely nothing but making you look stupid."

matthew's words have you pulling back, face faltering. you feel emotion clawing at your chest, flushing your skin a rosey pink as the embarrassment and anger about the situation hits you all at once.

his face flashes with remorse, looking down at you with a lingering guilty gaze. his mouth opens slightly, as if to speak—but nothing comes out.

"fuck you." you hiss quietly before turning on your heels and leaving. everything in your body feels like it's on fire, walking through the courtyard with a determination you didn't even realized you had. you can feel matthew's eyes boring into your retreating figure, but you don't dare turn around and look.

he's right—god, he's fucking right. matthew not only calling out your boyfriends shitty behaviour but your obliviousness to the truth about the situation, stings you hard, and you didn't know what else to say or how to react besides the way you did.

you’re even angrier about the fact that even within the little attention matthew had given you tonight, was more than lucas had all day—and the time matthew spent at your side in the bustling courtyard, had your anxiety about the crowds fizzling.

STAGE 3: Denial

the sound of basketball shoes squeaking against the polished wood of a court has always been one of your least favourite things. it's a high pitched, constant sound that has you cringing every time.

you eyes flicker up towards the scoreboard—it's almost half time. it's a relief, and you are almost giddy at the fact that the stupid squeaking while be on a momentary pause.

lucas squeezes your thigh, right over your jeans. you look over at his gently, met with the sight of his curious grin. "what's up babe?"

you shrug, "just watching the timberdogs!"

"it's the timberwolves." he corrects you, eyes twinkling with amusement. you laugh it off, looking back out into the basketball court, eyes following the players as they zip back and forth on the length of the floor.

lucas' dad has always been super into basketball—like more that the average person. he's got a room in his childhood home that's designed to resemble the minnesota timberwolves court, as well as a plethora of jerseys and seasons tickets for every year.

you're not sure why his dad couldn't make it to this game—lucas had told you in the car on the way to the game but you'd been too distracted with everything else going on inside the vehicle to truly pay attention. maybe he was sick? it also could've had something to do with his car breaking down? you don't recall—but regardless, the tickets weren't being used, and they were offered to lucas.

you assumed it was just two—because lucas didn't have any siblings, and you would think it was just his parents attending these games. but no, there's four tickets, because it was always a group of 50 year old men attending together.

so what you hoped was a date night between you quickly turned into a little group outing with your respective roommates. which wouldn't of been such a problem if you weren't still reeling about the last conversation you had with matthew—in the courtyard when he practically called out your entire relationship.

the reminder makes you shift in your chair, angling yourself away from matthew even further. you can hear him sigh to himself, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as his leg bounces up and down with a feverish pace.

it's annoying—more than the shoes on the court. you huff, turning to look at him. "can you stop moving, it's distracting."

he turns to his head. "how is it distracting?"

"i'm trying to watch the game." you retort.

matthew's brows raise incredulously. "you've been watching anything but the game since it started."

"that's not true." it is true, and his call out has you feeling even more infuriated than when you first got to the arena. "I love basketball."

"sure you do." he nods, unconvinced. "instead of watching me then, get back to watching your timberdogs." matthew messes up the name of the NBA team on purpose, teasing you with your own fuck-up.

you huff. "you are so-" the sound of the buzzer echoing loudly throughout the court silences you, whatever insult you'd been conjuring up dying on your tongue. the players begin filling off the court as halftime begins, leaving the crowd to begin freely moving and walking throughout the stands and hallways—replenishing snacks and/or drinks.

on the opposite side of matthew, cora leans forward, looking at you with wide eyes. "hey! i'm going to get another coke. do you want one?" her voice is loud, and even still it's barley heard over the rowdy crowd.

"yes please." you smile. your roommate nods in understanding before getting up, making her way down the row of seats before disappearing out of sight—leaving you with only lucas and matthew.

matthew snickers—mostly to himself—eyes downcast as he fiddles with a loose thread on the knee rip of his jeans. "didn't think you were capable of such manners."

"didn't think you were capable of such big words! woah, i'm impressed." your face falls, words dripping with sarcasm as your annoyance builds higher and higher.

you shoot a look towards lucas, but are only met with the sight of him engaged in his phone—playing fucking candy crush of all things—completely unaware of the tension rising between you and his friend.

"of course your impressed." matthew insists, "everything I do impresses you."

the lingering crowd around you seems even more roudy than before, but your too enthralled with matthew to even look away and glance around. despite the noise, you can hear him fine—too fine, if you're getting specific. 

your mouth drops, a tiny puff of disbelieved laughter leaving you. "oh so we're back on the 'y/n is obsessed with matthew train.'"

matthew slowly leans closer to you, his elbow nudging yours on the tiny shared armrest between your seats. his cologne invades your space—something clean like fresh laundry mixed with a spicy cinnamon. it's almost intoxicating, and you're left frozen in place.

"we never got off that train." his words are dripping with a teasing undertone, licking his bottom lip slowly.

a hand nudges matthew shoulder from the row of seats behind yours—gathering his attention. curious, you turn as well, finding a guy seemingly only a few years older than you, looking down at you both with a sheepish grin. "you guys are on the jumbotron."

both your heads whip back around, darting up towards the jumbotron hanging from the exposed ceiling of the court. much to your horror, you and matthew are on the screen—the image framed in a heart filter with 'kiss cam' scribbled across the bottom.

you and matthew both flush—although your heat is definitely more visible, trailing down your neck and appearing in splotches over your exposed chest. "no." you say, making a cut off motion beside your neck with your perfectly manicured nails. "we're not together."

it's no use— the jumbotron can't hear your pleas. matthew shakes his head, joining in on your attempt to get the camera off you both. through the screen you see matthew shift his attention to you, which has you whipping around to look at him. his gaze is almost soft—curious, maybe.

suddenly the crowd gets louder, their unison chants echoing through the building. "kiss kiss kiss!"

the commotion finally has lucas looking away from his phone, and at the sight of what's happening in front of him—his face falls. his brows furrow slightly, gaze switching between the jumbotron and the both of you—staring at one another.

lucas quickly grabs your face, turning you away from his roommate and planting a messy kiss on your lips. your eyes widen slightly, but eventually flutter closed—allowing your boyfriend to move his lips along yours.

matthew swallows roughly, looking away and back towards the screen. the camera has since shifted, showcasing you and lucas in the last lingering moments of the bruising kiss. the crowd cheers, but as soon as you pull away from him, the couple on the jumbotron changes.

lucas expression shifts, lips pulling into a frown as he pulls away from you—his hand quickly retreating back into his lap. "why didn't you nudge me?"

your mouth open and closed quickly, "I-I don't know."

"you don't know?" lucas's tone is quite, but firm, clearly unhappy with the situation that just transpired—even though nothing really happened.

you shrug, and blush once again, but this time is purely from embarrassment about the scolding from your boyfriend. "no, the crowd was looking and I just, I tried to say no but the camera wasn't hearing me. are you seriously mad at me?"

your eyes quickly flicker around the immediate area, making sure nobody is outwardly eavesdropping on your hushed argument.

"should I be?" lucas retorts, pulling your attention back to him. he's looking at you curiously, tinged with something that seems like hope as he waits for your response.

you swallow roughly, once shake of your head following. "no."

lucas exhales shakily, the corner of his mouth sliding into a grin. "okay," he mumbles, throwing his arm over your shoulders. "then i'm not mad."

you allow yourself lean into him easily, but your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and a million unknown feelings, and when you try and even begin to understand them, you're just left more confused.

the crowd begins filtering back into the arena, finding their original seats as the halftime clock begins winding down—the third quarter approaching quickly. cora comes back down the isle, squeezing past outstretched legs as small apologies spew past her lips.

you catch her eye, and her smile grows. "a coke for you." the posh, royal tone she often uses comes to a slow halt, passing you your drink as she eyes your somber expression.

you take the plastic cup. "thanks."

cora gives you a knowing look—one that says your sudden shift in mood will be discussed later in the comfort of your shared apartment. you're not sure why you're dreading that so much.

just as the buzzer sounds throughout the arena again, signaling the resumption of the game, your eyes flicker back towards matthew again. his jaw is tight, and you can see the tendons moving under his skin as he grinds his teeth together. matthew's leg is bouncing again, faster than before—his gaze locked on the court.

it's a longer glance than you intended, but you can't help yourself—something inside you is unwilling to look away.

that dreadful noise of shoes on the polished floor pulls you away, your nose scrunching as you inwardly cringe at the sound.

quickly, matthew's eyes flicker to you—only to be met with the side of your face. he watches gently as your face drops from the previous tight pull, your smooth skin stretching over your perfectly shaped nose.

the puffiness of your lips and the lingering blush on your cheeks, and the way your hair cascades down your back in the most delicate blowout...matthew can't help the way the faintest grin ghosts over his face.

the rest of the game thankfully goes by quickly, and before you know it you're all back in lucas’ car, making the drive back to your apartment located near campus. thankfully cora and lucas fill the lingering silence with pointless conversation—you and matthew only chiming in when necessary.

you don't know what exactly happened, but you know something has shifted. you don't know what it means, or what will happen because of it—and that has you feeling really weird.

as soon as you're back in the comfort of your own apartment, cora smacks her purse down on the counter, gathering your attention with the harsh sound. "what's going on with you?"

your shoulder deflate. "I don't know."

she frowns, walking further into the apartment where you've decided to flop dramatically on the couch. your pants pull uncomfortably around your waist, and the button is digging into your belly pouch like nobodies business.

cora sits down beside you, facing you with curious eyes. "did something happen at the game? it felt like when I went to get the drinks, I missed something."

"I was on the kiss cam." you breathe.

"okay?"

"with matthew."

"oh." she is momentarily taken back, blinking three times quick as she digests your words. cora is very much used to your and matthew's supposed hatred for one another, even though she's never believed it. but the look on your face at the game isn't adding up to just 'being on the kiss cam with matthew'.

cora's brows pull tightly, creating a deep wrinkle between them. "what else happened?"

"I think," you start, voice dropping as if you weren't the only two people in the room. "I think matthew wanted to kiss me."

her eyes widen to an unfathomable size. "what?! how do you know?"

your mouth opens, a sharp breath passing through your lips. "I just....I don't know, there was something about the way he looked at me. am I being crazy?"

instantly cora shakes her head, a gentle frown on her face. "no. the eyes never lie."

your expression droops in a mixture of confusion and fear, eyes beginning to glaze with emotion as you look at cora.

she continues, "and if he tried to kiss you, what would you have done?"

"I don't know." you exhale shakily.

you hear your roommate coo gently, wrapping her arms around you in a much needed hug. your eyes pinch shut, holding onto cora's arm as you continue the embrace.

you are so screwed.

—

how lucas managed to drag you to another loud and obnoxious frat party is honestly beyond you, but there you were—doing your best at mingling and letting loose while lucas was off doing god knows what with his teammates.

rachel thankfully ended up being at the party, and as soon as she ran up to you and made herself known—you didn't leave her side. which in hindsight maybe wasn't the best idea.

you love rachel, truly, but she's never been the best influence—especially when alcohol is involved. one minute your sipping your first seltzer, and the next you're stumbling over, 10 drinks in and screaming chappell roan lyrics like nobodies business.

which means right now you're hammered, sluggishly walking through the busy frat house as you attempt in finding your boyfriend. because drunk you is clingy—and a little horny—and all you want is the warm touch and attention of a man.

unaware, drunk bodies bump into from both sides—too caught up in the party atmosphere to even notice you. it makes the journey a bit harder, but somehow you haven't managed to fall on your ass, so you'll count that as a win.

"y/n?"

the sound of your name has you blinking, looking around the room until you locate the culprit. matthew's hand touches your exposed shoulder, grabbing your attention. his brows pull together, and he bends his knees slightly so he's able to properly look into your eyes. "hey are you with me?"

you blink. "your eyes are like really pretty." a fit of giggles follows your slurred admission, tumbling forward slightly as you clutch your belly.

matthew's hands steady you easily. the combination of your shitty balance and surprisingly playful and kind words tells him all he needs to know about your current state—you're drunk.

"where's lucas?" he asks you, beer can abandoned on a side table beside one of the terribly stained couches lining the makeshift sitting area. matthew eyes you again, "or did you come with cora?"

you shake your head. "cora's a loser and had to work—so here I am."

he can barley understand you due to the slurred, sluggish string of words, but he catches the jist of it. "so you're alone."

"no..." you retort, huffing like you're annoyed. "lucas is here. wait! have you seen him?"

"not for hours." matthew tells you. "I think you need to go home though."

you whine a protest, shaking off the hand he'd still had on your shoulder. matthew isn't having it, and before you can register what's going on, he's grabbing the meat of your biceps, guiding you to the couch before sitting you down.

"hey!" you huff, falling back against the cushions—wow, for a frat couch it's really comfortable.

"i'm going to find lucas, okay? stay here." matthew tells you firmly before walking back into the heart of the crowd, on a mission to find your boyfriend. it's actually not a hard task, and he's only looking for a minute or two before he spots lucas—in the back corner with a couple guys from the team and some mystery girls, all laughing and passing around a joint.

"hey," matthew starts firmly, grabbing the groups attention. lucas brows pull, taking a slow drag from the joint resting between two loose fingers.

"lucas man, y/n needs to go home—she's practically black out."

lucas groans, passing off the joint to the blonde girl closest to matthew—the same girl who's been eyeing him since he walked up to the group a few moments ago.

"fuck, man. I forgot she was here."

his word have matthew's jaw ticking, eyes squinting pointedly. "you forgot your girlfriend was here?"

lucas, ever oblivious, doesn't catch the irritation lacing his roommates words, and he only shrugs nonchalantly before taking a hearty sip of beer. he looks at matthew, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. "listen, I'm still having a good time. can you like, take her home?"

matthew can barley hold back a scoff. "seriously?"

"i'd really appreciate it." lucas says. "I can trust you, right?"

that really rubs matthew the wrong way, because what the actual fuck is he even trying to insinuate with that comment. before he can bite his tongue, matthew's anger comes boiling to a point. "yeah, because i'm not some no good boyfriend who's spending his time doing drugs and flirting with 18 year olds while my girlfriend is alone and vulnerable."

lucas blinks, taken back—but matthew doesn't care. matthew sends one more harsh glare towards him before leaving the area, weaving back through the party.

when he reaches you again you're practically sleeping, holding your knees to your chest and using them as a pillow. your face is squished, your blinks slow.

"we're going." matthew tells you, gently nudging your knee.

you groan, lifting your head. "where's lucas?"

"he's not coming."

"oh." you sigh, blinking with unshed emotion. your hair is wild, like you've been sweating and running your fingers through it all night—which you have. and if matthew wasn't so frustrated with his roommate right now, he'd probably tease you about it.

matthew helps you off the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to provide you with some stability as he guides you both outside.

the fresh air is shocking, sending you into a fit of shivers almost immediately—despite the mid may warmth. thankfully it's not a long walk back to the apartment, and matthew only has to stop with you twice because you claim you're going to throw up—spoiler alert, you don't.

you stumble out the elevator, tripping over your own two feet. matthew grabs the back of your tank top, halting you back up. "okay, slow down."

"but i'm tired." you whine, head falling back dramatically.

"you're gunna be real tired when you smack your face off the ground and end up in the ER." matthew let's go of your shirt, but takes ahold of your wrist, practically pulling you down the hall towards your apartment door.

"I don't want to go to the ER." you tell him, eyes widening with panic.

matthew's almost amused, sending you a small smirk over his shoulder. "okay, then let's get you inside."

"okay." you nod in agreement. thankfully the door is unlocked, because matthew didn't even want to start asking you about the whereabouts of your keys while you're this obliterated.

you sigh happily, kicking off your shoes messily before stumbling through your dark apartment. blindly, matthew finds the switch beside the door, flickering on the overhead light.

as soon as the room becomes illuminated he located you again, lounging half on the couch. he moves towards you, his smirk growing. "that's not your bed."

"it's not?"

he stifles a laugh. "no."

you whine again, head lolling to the side dramatically. "can you take me there?" your arms extend out towards him, resembling a mummy. "please. don't be mean."

matthew gulps gently, but takes ahold of your hands, pulling you back into unstable feet. "i'm not mean." he tells you, letting go of your hands. it proves to be a mistake because your immediately falling backwards.

matthew curses, grabbing you before you hit the couch and pulling you back up. you laugh, feeling very much like a ragdoll. you look up into his eyes, "you are too."

"you're mean too." he says, wrapping an arm around your hips and looping his fingers through your belt loop. he begins walking you both down the hall, "you're the one who calls me names."

you gawk loudly. "i'm only defending myself, matthew."

"whatever you say, y/n." he hums playfully. "which room is yours?"

you tell him that it's the room at the end of the hall, and allow matthew to continue guiding you to your bedroom. he nudges the half open door with hip, opening the threshold completely.

he drops you to the bed, and you go easily, falling against the unmade pile of blankets with a smile on your face. "where are your pyjamas?"

you lazily point towards the tall dresser next to the door. "top drawer."

matthew nods, pulling it open and immediately stifling through the jam packed drawer. he manages to pull out a t-shirt and plaid pants—ones he's seen you wearing at his place before. he tosses the items beside you. "think you can manage that?"

you sit up quickly, a lazy scoff falling past your lips. "yes." you grab onto the pyjamas, and before anything else your eyes widen, glancing back to matthew. "turn around."

matthew snickers at your tone—obviously he was going to turn around, but seeing you get so worked up over it has him left amused. he turns on his feet, broad back facing you as he looks into the dark hallway—patiently waiting for you to change.

you begin taking off your tight, alcohol sticky clothes, desperate to get into something comfortable and climb under the blankets. you lift your shirt over your head, and the momentary lack of vision has you stumbling, falling into the chair beside your vanity.

you hear matthew's quiet snicker. "shut up." you grumble, pulling on the pyjama shirt.

"didn't say anything."

"you thought it." you retort. eventually you get into the pants as well, and immediately climb into your bed. the sound of your delightful sigh and ruffling sheets have matthew peeking over his shoulder, making sure you were decent.

once he sees that you are in fact dressed, he faces you again. "do you need to be sick?"

you pause, is if you were assessing yourself to find an answer. a beat passes, "don't think so."

he hums doubtfully, walking towards your vanity and taking ahold of your tiny trash bin sitting underneath. you'd emptied it that morning, so there was nothing but a makeup wipe and a few q-tips in the bottom from when you'd gotten ready. matthew puts it beside your bed. "just in case you're lying."

"excuse me," you huff, squinting pointedly. "I don't lie."

he ignores you, picking up the stuffed zebra sitting on your bed, wedged between the pillow and the headboard. matthew snorts, examining the matted fur and scratched button eyes of your most prized possession. "awh, who's this little guy?"

you push up, snatching your zebra from his hands and bringing it to your chest. "don't touch ross with your filthy hands."

"his name is ross?" matthew snickers as you cuddle the stuffed animal, rubbing your cheek against the top of its head.

you nod. "yes."

"cute." he hums.

your eyes feel heavy with sleep, and it has you falling back towards the pillows, your beloved ross smooshed against your face. matthew swallows gently, watching the way your breath begins to even out and your blinks become slower.

"goodnight, y/n." he whispers.

matthew walks out your room, slowly shutting the door behind him—but just before the latch click, you mumble his name. it has him pausing, slowly pushing the door open once more.

you're looking towards the door lazily. "can you stay with me.”

matthew's face falls, swallowing roughly at the sight of you—laid out on your bed, completely relaxed and pretty. you don't even know what you do to him, and it drives him insane. he sighs. "no. I can't."

you pout, a breathy wind blowing past your dry lips. "pleaseee...lucas never stays with me."

the mention of your boyfriend has matthew scoffing, the conversation they'd had earlier coming back to him in a angry wave. "lucas is a dick."

he's expecting your to scold him, so matthew is surprised when your gentle giggles float through the room. "such a dick." you slur in agreement.

a moment passes, and your quiet giggles slowly die. wordlessly, your hand comes out fromunder the covers and pats the spot beside you—inviting him on your bed.

matthew's breath hitches, but he doesn't walk away. matthew softly shuts the door before walking back through your room, stepping over stray shoes and your discarded party clothes on the way to your bed.

"I don't bite." you grin teasingly.

matthew can't help the smirk that makes its way onto his face. "doubt it."

your smile mimics his, and that has matthew getting onto your bed, sitting atop the covers and leaning his upper body against your plush headboard.

it's only a few more minutes before your gentle snoring is heard throughout the room, a tell tale sign that you've fallen into a deep sleep. matthew watches you for a moment, letting the peace linger between you—a peace that has never been between you before.

matthew's eyes begin to feel heavy, and before he knows it, your soft snores are lulling him to sleep.

STAGE 4: Ignorance

when you woke up the following morning, you were in a state of confusion, still dealing with the lingering affects of alcohol and trying to re-collect your memories from the night before.

with a groan, you got out of bed, shuffling down the hall and into the living room. thankfully, cora is still sleeping after he late night shift—so you're in complete silence as you pour yourself a hefty glass of ice water.

it comes back to you in flashes, each blurry memory worse than the last—rachel convincing you to have another drink, followed by another, the loosing rachel at the party and having to walk through the house while hammered. then matthew is bringing you home, without lucas for a reason you don't recall—matthew in your room, changing behind his back, him touching ross...you pleading for him to stay.

your breath hitches—a mixture of embarrassment and hangxiety hitting you at full force. then you feel yourself panic, your stomach dropping. had you even checked beside you this morning? was your boyfriends best friend still in your bed?

you quickly—much quicker than you should be moving when you're that hungover—make your way back down the wall, sheepishly peeking into your bedroom.

he's gone. and that makes you feel worse than before.

you don't see him for the whole day, and then the next day comes and you still don't run into matthew knies. not in the hallway of your apartment building, and certainly not in the elevator. you don't see him at school, or even at the hockey rink. the one time you spend the night at your boyfriends, matthew is nowhere to be found. almost two weeks pass, and you haven't seen him at all.

it's making you anxious, and not only can cora tell—sending you looks of pity anytime you're making dinner together—but lucas can tell something is up with you too.

anytime he'd ask, you'd brush it off with a easy excuse—you're tired, or you have a headache—but it was never believable, and it was becoming repetitive.

did you say something to him? did you do something to him? you're reeling with possibilities of what could've happened between you and matthew knies to have him actively avoiding you.

but honestly, you're no better, and after a few days the anxiety of it all was getting to you—and you begin actively avoiding him as well. you  call in sick to work anytime your shift is during a game, and you've only spent time with lucas if it's at your apartment. you leave early for class with the hopes of avoiding running into him, and you stay behind late for the same reason.

it was exhausting but you couldn't help it.

so when cora texted you this afternoon about meeting up for lunch between her classes, you easily agreed. wednesday's were your free days, with no classes to take up your schedule—moping around your apartment while dealing with the mess of emotions in your head wasn't your most ideal choice of productivity.

so with only an hour until cora's lunch gap, you strip out of your pyjamas, tossing on your robe before making your way to the bathroom. you throw your hair up, only intending to wash your body and hopefully clean off any lingering lazy and anxious energy from your skin.

you sigh, pulling back the floral printed shower curtain. immediately, you scream, jumping backwards as the sight of a large, brown spider that greets you—scurrying up the walls before slipping back down.

your eyes begin welling up with tears as dry sobs rack your body—of course there's a fucking gigantic spider in your bathtub.

you rush out the bathroom and make a beeline for the front door, pulling it open with the upmost urgency. you don't even close it, speed walking down the dimly lit hallway until you're at your boyfriends apartment.

your knocks are frantic, perfectly capturing the emotions your feeling. thankfully it's only a few moments of your panic stricken knocking before the handle turns, the door opening to reveal not lucas.

matthew's taken back at the sight of you—hair piled on top of your head with a makeup stained robe around you, bare feet on display. quickly, his eyes land upon your face, and the sight of your tears and pale skin has him faltering. "what's wrong?"

you swallow roughly, a few tears trailing down your blotchy cheeks. "I went to take a shower, and there's a huge fucking spider and i'm so scared of bugs—I don't know what to do, I need help." you're a babbling, sniffling mess, eyes darting between matthew and back down the hall.

"it's okay." he says quickly, stepping out into the hallway. "i'll kill it, okay?"

you nod, blowing out a shaky breath. "okay." for as long as you can remember you've had a crippling fear of any and all creepy, crawly insects. something about the way they scurry around quickly, unable to know what it's thinking and what it's planning to do to you, never fails to leave you shaking.

your fear has completely taken over your body, and it's the only reason you're able to speak to matthew knies without remembering the past few weeks between you—or rather, the lack there of.

you follow him back to your apartment timidly, trialing behind his broad shoulders like a lost puppy. he breathes gently as he enters, grabbing one of the extra shoes at the front door—the spider killing weapon of choice, clearly.

"it's in the tub." you mutter, eyes darting down the hall. matthew nods, walking towards the bathroom like he's not about to battle the eight legged beast residing in there.

he pulls back the shower curtain further, and you peek around his bicep—locking eyes with the creature. you shiver, a disgruntled moan leaving your mouth. matthew looks back at you. "sure you wanna watch?"

in all seriousness, you nod. "I need to know it's dead."

"okay," he hums, grip tightening around your floppy, strappy sandal. the spider is still crawling around, attempting to escape over the lip of the bathtub but inevitably falling back down.

it's definitely not as big as you described it, but matthew doesn't even dare bring that up. at least, he won't until the spider is gone and you're returning back to a normal heart rate. he brings the shoe up before quickly bringing it back down, but before it can be smooshed, the spider scurries away.

you squeal once again, eyes filling with salty tears as you grip matthew's arm—hiding your face is the soft material of his sweater. "its moving!"

he has a hard time stifling his laugh, looking down at you with an amused expression. "why are you cryin?"

"i'm scared." you mutter, fingers digging into his arm muscle. "hurry up and kill it—oh my god, i'm going to be sick."

matthew rolls his eyes, the action laced with fondness rather than irritation. "well I can't kill it if you're holding onto me for dear life." he watches the way your eyes dart towards the grip on his bicep, and you quickly release him, taking a small step backwards.

now with his arm free, he approaches the tub again, and this time when he brings the sandal down, it finds the spider, smacking the unwanted insect with a sickening plat.

you practically gag, wringing out your hands in disgust at the sound.

matthew looks at you again. "you good?"

hesitantly, you nod. "yeah."

thankfully matthew cleans up the remnants of the spider from your white tub with some toilet paper, eliminating any disturbing evidence of its existence.

as he does, and your frantic state comes back down to normal, you come to the shuddering realization of what's happening—matthew, the man you haven't since since your impromptu sleepover, is standing in your bathroom—all while you cry and stand naked under a robe.

he flushes the paper down your toilet, the hallow flush echoing through your ears. matthew turns back to you, sending you a closed mouth, awkward smile.

you hate this—this isn't the matthew you know. you hadn’t realized how much you missed his annoying remarks and infuriating smirk until you no longer had them. you're panicking again, expect this time it's because you don't want him to leave and you never see him again.

you clear your throat, stepping in his path. "I haven't seen you."

his brows pull tightly, eyeing you up and down curiously. "what do you mean?"

"you've been avoiding me." you huff, nerves settling low in your belly. you’re not even worried about how desperate you sound, and you play with the string of your robe with nervous, trembling hands.

"only because you've been avoiding me." he retorts firmly.

"what?" you breathe roughly—exasperated. even though you so badly want to say that you haven't, it would be a lie. you have been avoiding him, and clearly he's caught onto the fact. so you decide to play coy, and somewhat petty, crossing your arms. "i'm literally with you right now."

matthew snickers. "not by choice."

"and since when have I ever spent time with you by choice?" you question lightly.

matthew's almost playful expression falters, and a more serious look blossoms over his features. he swallows gently, adam’s apple bobbing prominently. "since you've never decided to walk away."

your mouth opens, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. you blink once, and then again, feeling nothing less than speechless from matthew's words.

his eyes dart over your face, taking in your seemingly surprised reaction. he too blinks roughly, shaking his head slightly as if he didn't mean to say that aloud. matthew clears his throat once, "i'm sorry for being all weird these past couple weeks," he pauses, eyes finding yours, "I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

you frown. "you didn't." a gentle, shaky laugh leaves you, "if I'm remembering correctly, I begged you to stay."

his lips quirk upwards in a smile, "more like pleaded."

"okay!" you laugh in amused disbelief, covering your eyes with a still shaking hand. "don't remind me."

"but you see, this reaction is going to make me remind you at every possible opportunity." matthew teases, reaching towards you until his fingers gently brush yours, moving your hand away from your blushing face.

your eyes flicker back to his, smile falling as you blink up at him. you gulp gently, feeling your stomach swoop with a combination of emotions—nerves, confusion, fear, denial...need.

matthew's eyes slowly trace over you face, lingering on your damp lips before reluctantly tearing his gaze away. but he can't help but to drink you in further, admiring your exposed neck and collarbones—the fuzzy peach housecoat and the crazy hair—the silver initial necklace hanging around you, dangling above your sternum like the perfect accessory. it's all so new and so you.

your gazes meet again, and this time you sigh, a breathy noise that shoots right through matthew.

you blink, and without knowing what to do, you look away, back towards the shower. "how do you know there's no more spiders?" you question timidly, an awkward, unsure laugh following.

matthew holds onto his sigh, turning back to the bathtub. he puts his hands on his hips, stepping closer. "hello? anybody here?" he directs into the shower, looking around the porcelain white walls comically.

you smile fondly just as he looks back to you. "no more spiders."

something is seriously changing between you and matthew, and that makes you feel even more anxious than before. as you finally shower—speedily because you're still scared of the possibility of more creatures—and get ready for lunch, you can't help but wonder.

the what ifs and possibilities all involving your boyfriends roommate are very prevalent in your head, even as you begin to walk to a local campus cafe. as soon as you sit down, you're spilling your guts to cora.

no, you think, you can't like matthew because it's wrong—it's crazy. you're in a relationship, and a few months ago you hated him...at least, you thought you hated him.

and as you expressed it all to your friend, she listened with nothing but love and understanding. when you eventually stop your panicked ramble, cora sighs, looking at you like she just knows.

in that moment you know—the eyes never lie.

STAGE 5: Breaking

you scan the page of your textbook carefully, reading the history material in the hopes of applying it to your research assignment—but your mind is in a million other places.

since you've come to the realization 3 days ago that you have some sort of feelings for matthew, you haven't stopped thinking about him. you're still not sure what it is exactly you feel, so in all honesty you don't feel guilty about it—at least, not yet.

you blink, focusing your eyes as you attempt at reading the same paragraph again. the library is thankfully empty, meaning there's nobody to provide any type of distraction—the last thing you need is another distraction.

well, you're not completely alone, lucas is sitting across from you, typing away on his laptop as he attempts at starting his assignment that was due tomorrow. god, just thinking about that stresses you out. his legs stretch out underneath the table, invading your space, as well as his things spread across the tabletop—providing little to no breathing room.

all day there's been a lingering, awkward energy between you and lucas. he's been unusually quiet, and anytime he did talk to you it was quick and uninterested. unfortunately you've been too busy within your own head to notice the sharp glances he's been sending you, and the way his lips pull into a frown anytime you'd make a sigh of frustration or worry.

it was constant—and lucas was at his breaking point. as you have to restart the scentence again, a tiny huff leaving your lips, he shuts his laptop, the heavy click echoing throughout the library.

you look up quickly, brows pulled together as you eye him. "you okay?"

he huffs in disbelief, "your mind is like somewhere else recently—it feels like you're just a host of a body. it's like you don't even want to be with me." lucas tone is dripping with frustration, sounding nothing less then condescending and irritated.

you blink quickly, taken back from his sudden outburst. slowly, you put down the pen you'd been using to follow along with the words, eyeing lucas with a confusing tilt. is he joking? the last person who should be complaining about anything like this is lucas.

his face stays stern—looking at you like he's just watched you kill his dog. he's not joking.

you scoff quietly, but the disgusted tone is more than prevalent. "seriously? that's rich coming from you lucas. it feels like you haven't wanted to spend time with me for the past three months."

"that's not true." he retorts quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"is it not?" you question sarcastically.

"no!" lucas practically shouts, leaning on the table as he eyes you wildly. "you sound stupid right now."

the remark that you had dies on your tongue, mouth snapping shut. your jaw clicks as it tightens, anger coursing through you at lucas' insult. "how come you didn't take me home at that party a few weeks ago?" you question softly, a knowing look in your pointed gaze.

he wasn't expecting that, and it has him flattering slightly, leaning back as he blinks two quick times. lucas runs a hand through his unruly, light hair, tugging at the root in frustration—trying to think of answer.

"I don't know...fucking seemed like matthew had it under control." he swallows, pausing for a moment. "why does it matter?"

his admission give you confirmation you hadn't realized you'd been looking for. you laugh in disbelief, "yeah, well it seems like matthew is the only one who cares about me."

it was a low blow, one that has lucas' anger rising rapidly—but it was your truth, and you know that now.

"yeah too fucking much." he snarls.

"sorry that he cares about me—unlike you."

lucas jaw tightens, eyeing your face with a look you've never seen before. "we need to break up."

you look at him with disbelief and disappointment, your lip beginning to quiver. "so you're not even going to deny it? not even going to try and fight for me?"

this conversation has taken a turning point you weren't expecting—at least not today. there's nothing but anger between you, but yet you're not upset about being broken with. you're upset because you feel stupid, and everything you've feared about your relationship is true. lucas may love you, but he doesn't care about you.

his eyes flicker with something unknown, and he sighs, "I don't think you want me to."

you close your textbook and shove it into your bag, pushing off the table as you hastily get to your feet. "you're a dick." you don't wait for his response, leaving the library with your heart in your hands.

you push open the grand doors, and immediately you're enveloped in rain. you curse, tightening the hold on your book bag as you begin speed walking in the direction of your apartment. it seems that the rain only gets harder as you go, pelting against your skin like mini bullets and completely soaking you.

it's the cherry on top of everything, and you can't wait to get home, strip completely naked and cry in bed.

the sigh of relief is loud as you finally get back to the apartment building, walking into the lobby like a wet dog. you make a b-line to the elevators, not making your usual stop in the mail room—something that was habit anytime you'd come home.

you wring your hair out between your hands, the water hitting the elevator carpet with a small plopping noise. thankfully, it doesn't stop and you make it up to your door without any interruptions.

you sniffle away the emotion creeping up your chest, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. you only make it a few steps before a door is opening, distracting you.

it's lucas and matthew's apartment, and our steps the latter, gym bag slung over his shoulder. you come to a slow stop without meaning to, looking at him with a soft, yet curious gaze.

his eyes dart to you, but as soon as he sees the state your in he's moving, stepping closer to you with a worried expression. "woah...you okay?"

just the caring tone of his question has you welling up with tears, and it feels like everything is crashing down on you all at once. the confusion, the anger, the heartbreak, the lust, the curiosity...it's all there, drowning you.

you shake your head, mouth opening and closing unsurely. "I-I don't...i'm so." your voice is shaking, and you're borderline hyperventilating as you attempt at getting a coherent sentence out.

matthew lets his gym bag slip off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a hard thud. he takes ahold of your biceps, squeezing the fleshiest part firmly. "take a fucking breath, y/n, you're gunna make yourself sick."

closing your eyes, you take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down from the sudden emotional attack set upon yourself. it takes a minute, but eventually you feel yourself begin to relax, your heart rate slowly creeping back down.

you let your eyes flutter back open, meeting the concerned ones of matthew. your brows pull tightly, a nervous gulp following. "why are you looking at me like that, matthew?" your question is barley above a whisper, as if you were almost scared of the response.

"like what?" he breathes, not once breaking eye contact.

it's almost intimidating, but it's also confirming of so many things. but of course, you're hesitant—heck you're scared and nervous and so unsure about what's going on between you. your brows are still drawn together, creating a tiny indent in the middle of your forehead.

matthew has to fight every urge in his body to not run his thumb over the indent to smooth it out.

"like...like you fucking care about me. like you want me." you answer firmly, eyes frantically moving around matthew's face as you attempt at gauging his reaction.

he doesn't release the hold on your biceps, his gaze turning completely soft. "y/n." he says your name knowingly, fingers gently running up your arms. that’s his answer.

"matthew." you exhale shakily, distracted by the gentle pressure of his fingers on your skin. "you're making me all..."

"all...what?"

"confused." you say honestly, looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he's seen.

matthew swallows roughly, jerking his hands off your body like you just told him that's he's burning you. "i'm sorry"

the soft, hopeful look on his face doesn't falter, and if anything it increases. "no," you shake your head, "stop."

"what? stop apologizing?" he questions with a frown.

"no," you repeat, "stop looking at me like that."

a moment passes before he speaks again, his words laced with desire— stressing his words. "I can't."

another beat of silence, nothing but the hitching breath of both and you matthew to be heard. you lick onto your bottom lip, "lucas and I...we broke up."

"you did?"

you only get one nod out before matthew rushes forward, grasping your face like he's been waiting for the opportunity since he was put onto the earth. you tilt your head back instinctively, and it's just timed as matthew leans down to kiss you.

the kiss is instantly desperate, the clashing of lips and teeth alluding to so. your tongues glide across each others like second nature, elevating the kiss to a higher, more intense level. it's exhilarating—it's right.

you sigh into his mouth, trembling hands reaching up and grabbing onto matthew's wrists—keeping him against you. you've completely forgotten that you're soaked from head to toe, and how you've just had a fight with lucas that lead to a break up...it's all lost in matthew.

his hands slide farther back, fingers intertwining with your wet strands of hair. it's a gentle and welcoming pull, and you can't help but sigh in pleasure.

matthew follows suit, groaning into your messy kiss. it's been months and months of tip-toeing around one another, too scared to admit the truth in fear of ruining everything and everyone else along the way. but now it's just you two, and matthew can't help but moan at the thought.

the elevator doors slide open, and you’re both pulling apart instinctively at the sound.

but as lucas stands there, jaw ticking with anger as he stares at you—you know it's too late, and he's just seen you making out with his friend. or better yet, he's seen his friend making out with his newley ex-girlfriend.

"are you two fucking serious?"

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. it looks bad, you know it it does—mostly because it is bad. you've been thinking about matthew for much longer than you care to admit, and the first thing you did after getting broken up with is run into his arms—letting matthew kiss you like you're both horny teenagers.

"lucas..." matthew trails off, turning to his roommate with a guilty laced hesitation.

but lucas is only looking at you, that same disgusted smirk on his face from the library. "can't even remember the last time you kissed me, but yet the first thing you did after leaving the library was make out with my roommate. I didn't realize you were such a slut."

you inhale sharply, tears quickly welling up in your eyes.

matthew rushes forward, and before he can logically think of the consequences of his actions, he punches lucas square across the face.

"matthew!" you gasp, moving towards the two men with concern pulling at your face. "no."

he doesn't hear you, looking at lucas as he clutches his jaw. matthew's gaze narrows, shaking out his hand. "don't fucking talk to her like that."

your ex-boyfriend laughs in a mixture of shock and disbelief, stretching his jaw out before he looks back at you. lucas doesn't say anything else, turning and leaving down the buildings stair well.

you're shocked, embarrassed and guilt ridden—your watery gaze locked on the empty space lucas was only moments ago occupying.

"y/n?" matthew questions gently, snapping you out of your own head.

you blink hard, shaking your head. "i'm sorry, I just need some space." you turn away from matthew before he has the chance to answer—mostly because you're too scared that if he begins to speak you'll crawl right back into his arms.

matthew watches you walk away, and all he can do is stand there, focused on your fleeting figure as he slip into your apartment—your lip trembling without another glance in his direction.

his face is contorted, not in anger, but in a look of concern. guilt flashes across his features, and he can't help but groan, running a palm over his face in frustration. did he just loose you for good?

you shut the apartment door behind you, and the tears begin falling down your face at a rapid pace. your lips tug into a frown, a sob wracking through you as you lean back against the door.

cora rounds the corner at the sound, her eyebrows pulled in concern. "what's wrong?" she breathes, rushing towards you.

"I did something terrible." you admit through your stuttering gasps, looking at your roommate with a million different emotions.

"honey..." she coos, wrapping you in a hug. your tears intensify as cora squeezes you in the embrace, and you bury your face in her shoulder to mask your desperate cry.

Epilogue

“god miller! just kiss me already!”

“no, not like this!”

you groan, falling into the couch cushions. the scene on the tv illuminates the room, the late afternoon sun hidden behind the blackout curtains you’ve had drawn since this morning.

nick and jess from new girl have not only been giving you entertainment all day while you mope around, but they’ve also been stupid cute and in love—it makes you want to die.

you’ve only been two places since the chaotic ending to last night; your bed which you cried in all night, and the couch which obviously you also cried on. you keep running through the events of yesterday—the breakup with lucas, finding matthew in the hallway, borderline confessing your feelings to him…kissing him. it felt good—so so good.

but just like that it was snatched from you, and the guilt riddling your body is just nerve wracking and wrenching. while you were kissing matthew, the last thing you were thinking about was lucas, and the possibility of him finding you both like that wasn’t even in your mind. but it happened and now everything feels like a mess—and you feel like an awful person.

you’ve clearly hurt lucas—that much was evident in the awful things he said to you. when you told cora everything last night, eyes stinging with tears and snot dribbling from your nose, she was quick to remind you that lucas never treated you good, and that no matter what he shouldn’t of said that to you.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, making you sit up—brows furrowed in question.

lucas

are you home?

you pause the tv quickly, all while reading the text over and over again as you try and make sense of it. what does he need? does he want to talk? is he going to yell at you? is he simply just curious? does he want to fix your relationship?

you hold your breath as you shakily type your reply.

y/n

yea

you exhale as it goes through, and in habit you bring your thumb to your lips, nerves consuming you as you begin gnawing on the skin around your nail.

your phone buzzes with an incoming message again.

lucas

can I come talk?

you swallow, sitting up straighter as you read his message. this can’t be good, you think—you’ve done nothing positive in the last twenty four hours that warrants a civil talk with your ex. you desperately want to ignore him—throw your phone across the room and get back to new girl on the tv.

a show that you only started watching because it’s matthew favourite—your brain reminds you. you look down at your phone again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate.

you deserve not only closure, but happiness—not matter what.

y/n

sure

you barley have a minute of speed running the apartment, picking up the empty tub of ice cream and what feels like hundreds on snotty tissues from your crying, before there’s a knock at your door.

even if you didn’t know he was coming over, would could tell it was lucas by the weight of the knock. it was soft, almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually be at your door. it always sounded like that.

before you back out, you pull open the door, revealing yourself to a deadpanned face lucas who’s standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. he gulps, eyeing your figure briefly. “can I come in.”

you nod reluctantly, stepping to the side to create enough room for him to slip inside your apartment. lucas sends you a forced smile as he enters, moving through your place like he’s done many times before.

the door shuts with a gentle click, but the room is so tense and quiet it sounds like a bomb. you follow suit, walking into the living room where lucas stands stagnant—eyeing around the apartment with an unsure expression. suddenly his eyes meet yours, “did you cheat on me?”

“no.” you tell him. “I would never cheat…on anybody.”

he sniffs, the sound annoying and disgusting—it’s like he’s trying to stay calm. “but you like him, right? you like matthew?”

you’re so used to trying to please him that you want to stay quiet—because you know if you admit your feelings for his friend, everything is going to completely change…more than it already has. and as lucas looks at you now, his gaze nothing but knowing, you decide you’re done trying to hide from him.

“I do.” you confirm. “but nothing ever happens, and…I didn’t even know when these feelings started. i’ve been so confused for the longest time, and I was scared because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” you pause, wringing out your trembling fingers as you collect your next thoughts. “but i’m sick of doing things for everyone else…and I need to let myself be happy—whatever that ends up being.”

lucas stay silent for a moment, but you can see his mind running a mile a minute. his eyes dart all over you, analyzing your face and body language—you’ve never seen him look at you so intently, and it has you wanting to shy away.

he sighs, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m sorry, y/n—for everything.”

your shoulders deflate, and you feel the emotion you’ve been suppressing since lucas texted you coming back to the surface. “thank you. i’m sorry too.”

“can I give you a hug?” his hesitance is evident, looking at you like he’s unsure of your response—how you’ll react. looking at him right now, you can’t be mad at him. not about your relationship, the breakup or the name he called you in his rage. lucas is a good guy, you know that—he’s just not the guy for you.

“yeah.” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

lucas takes the three steps of distance between you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he brings you into his chest. your hands find place around his waist, holding him against you in a wordless goodbye. his cheek rests on the top of your head, a comforting gesture that has your eyes flickering shut.

he takes a deep breath—his words quiet as he speaks. “I think we met for a reason, y/n. and that reason is matthew.” you feel lucas swallow against you, like he knows what he just said is the final nail in the coffin—everything starts now. “have you noticed how he looks at you?”

you pull back, and watch as the corner of his lips begin to turn upwards—the faintest smile growing. lucas may not like it, but he’s accepted it, and it’s feels better than anything you could imagine. your own smile begins to show, and you nod. “I have.”

matthew knies was an enigma—a giant, infuriating mystery that you never expected to entangle yourself in. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned in the past few months, it’s that you’re easily intrigued, especially when the enigma has always cared for you, no matter how rude and stupid you acted towards him.

perhaps you never hated matthew, but rather the way he made you feel. you hated the idea of being in love with him because you had a boyfriend, so you'd turn into an easily irritated girl, who secretly wanted nothing more then the attention of the boy down the hall. the boy who was more of a boyfriend than lucas could ever be. the boy who you don't hate, but love.

of course, there’s still the lingering feelings of confusion and nervousness—because you don’t know where you and matthew will go from here.

but later in the day, on you way back from your evening class, as the elevator doors open to your floor and matthew stands there—a grin growing on both your faces at the mere sight of one another…you think you have an answer.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

playlist

every breath you take (i'll be watching you) by the police

pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine

wrong by zayn

your needs, my needs by noah kahan

do I wanna know? by hozier (cover)

each time you fall in love by cigarettes after sex

if I can't be with you by olivia obrien

I would by one direction

[prlssprfctn]

What do you think about this?

I thought it...

Jason is emotionally adopted by every rogue, villain and enemy of Batman and the BatFam with the exception of the Clown

Like he can just annoy Tim by requesting Ra's to please give him Tim's spleen jar and show it to Tim before giving it back to Ra's.

Each bat kid has one rogue that is connected to them and Jason becomes the favorite of all Robins because... 1 is to be petty and 2 he broke down the enemies defenses and made himself their favorite.

Jason is petty like that.

i actually love this! funnily enough, i think Jason accidentally befriended a few of them even as Robin (an interesting detail: as Robin Jason was very inclined to believe that rogues of Gotham can actually change, while Bruce brushed him off; in one of comics, he really wanted to believe that Penguin had changed their ways, and, of course, he turned out to be wrong, and Bruce explained him that people like him don't change, but isn't it just *so* curious and feels like unintentional foreshadowing? especially, considering that Bruce pushes the "this kid would end up a criminal [or dead] if not for me" from the very beginning of Jason's arc?)

but back to the point, i absolutely love this headcanon. i don't think he will tolerate *all* of them (definitely not Penguin and Crane, I think; Harley, depending on how triggered he is just by Joker association), but the most? for sure. putting my bet that Selina and Pamela might be his favourite, actually.

the funniest part most of them are, like, nerds with PHD. that's exactly a type of people that will welcome his rants about books and law, politics and economy, and— you get it.

and then, there is Ra's. they are very annoying to each other, but they collaborate when they know that their ideas and duo will annoy others. Bruce is getting grey hair every time he knows Jason is at LoA again? Ra's announce that Jason is his grandson as well. Dick is getting a tick because Al Ghul's family is his least favourite family in the world? Jason *accidentally* mixes up chats and sends Dick his selfie with Ra's instead of Talia. bonus points: Dick hates that his chat is somewhere next to Talia, too.

do he also help rogues on occasions when he wants to annoy Bruce? sure.

Batman, trying to catch Selina after she stole something from city hall again:

Jason, calling him in the middle of the chase: Sos, emergency

Batman, pausing: Son? What's wrong?

Jason: I am stuck resolving Riddler's shit, and I really need help with the last one.

Batman: What is it?????

Jason: What cat says when Bat fails again?

Batman: Uh—

Jason, before hanging up dramatically: Don't be mean to your second son.

Batman: Excuse me—

Selina, hopping on a suspiciously familiar bike with a suspiciously familiar vigilante driving it: Muah!

Batman: Shit.

Dick, barging inside the Cave, furious: Had you managed to fight with Jason again?

Bruce: ...How did you know?

Dick: I've spent thirteen hours trying to resolve all Riddler's trials. Some of them were required to quote Jane Austin and fill blanks in Edgar Allan Poe's poems. HOW DO I KNOW?!? GO AND APOLOGISE, YOU STUPUD OLD MAN.

Bruce: ^_^

Red Hood and Riddler on the other side of town: (collective evil giggles)

Tim, sighing, because police asked Red Robin to regulate Poison's Ivy rally in front of CGDP building: Man, it is Sunday...

Tim, squinting at a familiar figure in leather jacket: Jason? What the fuck you are doing here? Are you under Ivy's pollen influence, too?

Jason, holding a big ass poster: Nah, man, just helping my girl Pam

Tim: ...Honestly. Whatever. I'll leave the territory to you.