#but got awkward angst!

[zuppizup]

My angsty brain: So… Callum’s Dad died of some kind lung condition, eh? Sure would be a shame if that was hereditary

[quirinah]

ummmmmmm guys this dungeons looking a little dark here..........................ummmm..... hello??? guys??

[laurzvahll]

wanted to post something but Im still busy and haven’t drawn much so here old art of River , my mystreet insert/oc LOL (featuring @ootttteerr ‘s insert Akira)

they’re supposed to look like Sol I think I mentioned before that it’s a fun joke that they’re twins in different universes

[doodleydoo101]

For anyone wondering, I am working on the last chapter of Snapshots (part of my Luigi Wasn’t Saved AU) and am hoping to get it out soon. I know it’s been far too long. I was just finishing up my undergraduate degreee in creative writing on the spring and have been working customer service since then, so suffice to say I’ve been a little drained. However, I really want to finish this story and get onto some Mario ficlets I have ideas for (ones where Luigi will be alive!) (and possibly some movie-verse Luaisy 👀). I’ll be taking a relaxing weekend trip the weekend after Labor Day, so the goal is to wrap up Snapshots then. ☺️

In the meantime, I thought I’d share some inexplicabley funny reactions my friend had to reading my fics.

Beneath The Layers (Mareach):

Live for Both of You:

[mountain-dew-tickledpink]

sometimes you’re just so in love with someone it hurts you physically down to your very core or something idk I’m not a poet have some boyfs

[casuallyimagining]

listen. I'm not saying this fic I'm working on now is going to be my best fic

but I think it's definitely my favorite

it's this fic, in case you're wondering

... are we feeling a preview?

[records-of-a-slacker]

Man that breakup must've been crazy.

Spin this wheel of ~300 AO3 tags three times.

[fuzzyflowerland]

Being a teenager is such an ethereal experience because first you're in a waterpark with your friends and crush, where you get your first proper hug in weeks, then you're getting coffee and spicy chicken, before your mum makes you put her thrush cream on your crusty ear, when you finally break down listening to Taylor Swift and Bon Jovi.

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ IT’S OKAY, YOU’RE GOOD.

Tw - light angst, roommate trope, reader has daddy issues and seeks comfort from toji, Age gap (20, 40), Not proofread.

I’ve always had this angsty roommate trope with Toji in the back of my head— where the reader is a college student who gets kicked out by her parents and is forced to share an apartment with someone else because you can’t afford a place on your own.

Somehow, you either got lucky or unlucky and ended up living with an older man who’s nearly as old as your own parents.

But he always minded his own business, and the two of you only exchange brief hellos and the usual polite pleasantries. You’d think living with an older man might be weird or even a little fucking creepy, but it’s clear he has no interest in you in that way.

The thing is, you have a lot of unresolved issues and wasn’t treated the best growing up, leading to a lot of personal problems and issues. As the days pass, you and Toji start talking more, gradually getting used to each other’s presence while still maintaining a respectful distance.

He didn’t seem to have a lot of hobbies— just a typical older man working the usual 5 to 5.

You had no idea what his job was, nor did you care enough to ask but he had a fond of working out— considering that most of the time when you get home from your part-time, you’d find him in the living room doing push-ups or bicep curls while half-watching some random horse racing show on tv that you’re 100% confident that no one else cared to watch.

You don’t remember when exactly the lines started to blur. When the occasional greetings turned into quiet conversations over late-night meals. When the awkward tension of cohabiting with a stranger faded into something resembling familiarity. Toji was still Toji— distant, extremely rough around the edges, and uninterested in prying into things that weren’t his business.

But maybe that’s what made it easy to be around him.

He never asked why you flinched when your phone buzzed with a call you refused to answer. He never questioned why you worked yourself to the bone at a part-time job that barely paid enough to cover rent. And he sure as hell never brought up the nights you came home with your eyes red-rimmed, shoulders tense like you were holding yourself together with sheer will, alone.

But he noticed.

Maybe that’s why, on nights like these, when the weight of it all felt unbearable— when the ghosts of your childhood clawed their way to the surface to fucking torture you, leaving you hollow and exhausted. You found yourself in the living room, drawn to the quiet presence of the only person who never asked for more than you were willing to give.

Tonight was no different.

Toji was exactly where you expected him to be, sprawled out on the couch in nothing but sweatpants, a hand lazily resting on his stomach as he watched another horse racing rerun. His other hand held a half-empty beer can, the faint smell of cheap alcohol lingering in the air.

He didn’t acknowledge you right away, but you knew he saw you.

“You look like shit". His voice was rough and tired like he’d already had a long day and didn’t have the energy for sugarcoating. But there was no malice behind it. Just an observation.

You let out a dry laugh, softly rubbing your arms as you hesitated near the edge of the couch. “Thanks toji. real comforting".

He lowly grunted in response, tilting the can to his lips before glancing at you again. “Something happened?”.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk about it. The words were there, lodged in your throat, tangled with years of resentment and hurt that you never got the chance to voice.

But where would you even start?

“My dad called,” you muttered instead, settling for the simplest truth.

Toji didn’t react right away. He took another sip of his drink, his gaze unreadable. But he didn’t need to say anything— you could tell he already understood.

“And?”

“And… nothing,” you whispered, dropping onto the couch beside him. “Just the usual bullshit. Asking where I am. Acting like he gives a damn after throwing me out like I was nothing”. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie, gripping it tight. “I didn’t answer”.

There was a long silence before Toji let out a slow exhale. “Hmph. Probably for the best.” You turned to look at him, searching for judgment, for some offhand remark about how “he’s still your dad” or how you should “at least hear him out”. But there was none of that.

Just quiet understanding.

Something inside you lit.

Before you could stop yourself, you shifted closer, curling your knees up against your chest as you leaned against his side. Toji tensed for a moment but didn’t pull away.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

He sighed through his nose, shifting just enough to get comfortable. His body heat seeping into your skin. “Yeah well, you’re freezing”.

A part of you expected him to brush you off, to push you away like everyone else had. But he didn’t. He just sat there solid and steady, letting you rest against him without a word.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel completely alone.

You don’t know how long you sat there, curled into his side like some pathetic thing seeking warmth and comfort. Toji doesn’t say anything, doesn’t shift to move you off. He just sits there, the low hum of the television filling the silence between you.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe it’s the fact that no one has ever let you just be without demanding something in return but you find yourself inching closer, practically climbing into his spawled lap before you can think better of it.

Toji tenses beneath you, his body going rigid as he feels your weight settling on top of him. For a second, you think he’s going to push you off, tell you to go to bed, or deal with your shit somewhere else.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he exhales through his nose, one large hand coming up to rest against your back, broad and grounding. “You really are touch-starved, huh?” he mutters, amusement barely masking something softer beneath his tone.

You don’t answer. You just press your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in— cologne, sweat, and the faintest trace of whatever cheap beer he’s been drinking. It should be embarrassing, the way you’re practically clinging to him, an older man you’ve only known for about four months but shame is a distant thing compared to the bone-deep exhaustion squeezing tightly around your ribs.

For once, Toji doesn’t make you feel stupid for it.

After a moment his hand moves, dragging up your spine in slow, deliberate strokes before slipping into your hair. The gesture is clumsy at first, like he’s not used to comforting anyone this way but his fingers are warm, threading through the strands with a gentleness that makes your throat tighten.

“Damn,” he mutters, his voice rumbling beneath your ear, “when’s the last time you brushed this?”

You huff against his skin. “Shut up”.

He chuckles, low and rough but his fingers don’t stop. If anything, he grows more methodical, smoothing out the tangles with a patience you wouldn’t have expected from someone like him. It’s oddly soothing, the way he works through each knot with careful precision, his other hand resting against the small of your back, keeping you anchored on him.

No one has ever touched you like this before—without expectation, without ulterior motives. Just quiet, wordless comfort.

Your eyes burn, and you squeeze them shut, pressing yourself closer. “You don’t have to do this,” you whisper, though you don’t pull away.

Toji sighs, his fingers still carding through your hair. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t seem like anyone else has”.

It’s a simple statement but it cracks something deep inside you.

You don’t cry. Not really. But your hands clutch at his broad shoulders and Toji doesn’t say a damn thing when your breath stutters when you shake just the slightest bit against him.

He just keeps brushing his fingers through your hair, steady and patient. Like he’s got all the time in the world.

And for tonight, at least you let yourself believe it.

You don’t know what came over you. The urge rising like a tide that you couldn’t hold back. Maybe it’s the way Toji’s fingers are moving through your hair, the warmth of his chest against yours. the steady, comforting pressure of his body under yours. Maybe it’s the vulnerability that’s been simmering in your chest, the raw need to feel something else other than burden.

Your lips hover near his throat, your breath shaky and fingers clenching on his shirt as you tilt your head. The space between you is thin and fragile. He’s close enough that you could close the distance, and you find yourself trembling, your heart pounding too loudly in your chest.

Before you can even think it through, you tilt your head up just a little more, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. It’s a light touch, barely there, but enough to send an electric shock through your body. The warmth from his skin makes you ache for more. A soft, quiet need you’ve kept buried for far too long.

But Toji’s body tenses, his hand freezing in your hair. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice rough with a warning that makes your pulse spike in sheer anxiety. “What are you doing?”

You pull back, your heart thudding as the weight of what you’ve almost done settles in. But before you can apologize, to retreat into the usual walls you keep around yourself, his eyes are soft but firm.

“Don’t”. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. A certain caution you hadn’t expected. The hint of strictness almost making you cry.

You open your mouth, words trapped on the tip of your tongue but nothing comes out. He doesn’t move away though. Doesn’t push you off. He just holds your gaze, his eyes dark but kind, not angry, not judgmental— just… something else?

“You’re just a kid,” Toji says. His voice was low, almost a murmur. “I don’t see you like that”.

You flinch, even though the words shouldn’t hurt, even though you knew somewhere deep down, this was where it would go. The distance was inevitable. He wasn’t like the others— he didn’t want you in that way and you weren’t ready to be wanted like that anyway. Not from someone like him.

“Sorry,” you whisper, unable to look at him. You try to pull away, to move off his lap, but his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back in.

“Hey, none of that”. His voice softens as he steadies you. His palm strokes gently down your back, grounding you in the silence between you. “I’m not mad. But I’m not that kind of guy”.

You swallow hard, nodding slowly— trying to push back the sting that rises in your chest. The air feels colder now, the warmth of his body less comforting, like a reminder that you’re still just a kid in his eyes.

But then without warning, Toji shifts his position, pulling you closer to melt into his body, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath you. His lips lazily brush the top of your head, just a light touch, like a reassurance.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something you can’t place. “I’m not gonna push you away, kid. Just… just need you to know your place, alright?”.

Your breath catches in your throat as you settle back into him, the weight of your emotions flooding back in full force. It feels too much, too complicated and you don’t know what to do with all the things you’ve never said. But for now, you let yourself sink into the safety of his arms, the warmth of his embrace enough to silence the chaos in your mind.

His fingers trace gently down your spine again, a comforting gesture you can’t ignore and then his lips press a soft kiss to your forehead. It’s simple, tender— a reminder that while he might not want you in the way you want, but he’s not leaving you to fend for yourself. Not tonight.

And maybe that’s enough. For now.

[gumii-bearr]

❝ not even a little ❞

summary: megumi fushiguro is your roommate, he's also a scary guy... a scary guy that's weak for you.

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, roommate!megumi, college!au, angst, fluff!!, alcohol, vomiting (from being so drunk), mentions of weed, hangovers, reader cries a few times, slow burn ish, these two are pissing me off, smut, dirty talk, cunnilingus, blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, cum eating, virginity loss (?), mentions of a cheating ex (there is Hana slander im sorry), emotionally stunted megumi, swearing, megumi is so bad at feelings oh my god, ozawa x yuji mentions

word count: 13.8k

author's note: MEOW– guys i been working hard on this FUCKER!

chapter two

You’re pretty sure he hates you.

Your new roommate, that is. 

“Fushiguro, right?” You led with friendliness, hoping to win him over with your charming personality and half the share of the rent. But he was beyond intimidating, standing at the front door, eyes slanted and harsh with boredom. His hair was messy but it almost seemed intentional with how much it complimented and framed his angular face.

He was gorgeous.

Yuko had neglected to tell you just how attractive your new roommate would be when she sent you the address the day before. Though, it made sense that she wouldn’t notice since she’s dating Itadori, not his old roommate.

He looked you up and down as you stood at his front door, a nervous smile twinging at your lips as an awkward tension consumed you. Though he didn’t seem overly bothered by the awkwardness, simply humming in acknowledgement of his name before standing aside to let you into his apartment.

It was nice; very organised for a guy, you thought. He wordlessly led you to your new room, which was Yuji’s old room, and gave you the rundown of the rent and utilities while you tried to not melt at the deep smoothness of his voice.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

“You didn’t tell me he was hot, Ozawa,” you grumble as you tighten the group head into the coffee machine. It’s quiet in the cafe that day, just you and Yuko behind the counter trying to shake off your lack of sleep with iced coffees and fries from the stainless steel bowl sitting at the kitchen window. The line chef doesn’t care that you’re stealing the fries, too busy scrolling on his phone and attempting to blink away his hangover.

Yuko takes a sip of her coffee, her brows knit in confusion, “who?”

“Fushiguro,” you clarify, pressing buttons on the coffee machine.

Yuko was your friend from high school and she was the one that hooked you up with the apartment. All she told you was that he was Yuji’s best friend and old roommate before she and Yuji moved in together. She told you he was in his second year of college, he needed help with the rent and that he was a nice guy.

“You told me he was nice, too.”

“Fushiguro is nice,” Yuko retorts, restocking the paper cups next to the coffee machine.

You give her a look, “nice my ass.”

“You just said he was hot!” she laughs at that, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“You can be hot and mean at the same time, they’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Mm,” she hums, “sounds like your type.”

“Rude,” you mutter.

The bell above the door dings, your eyes peeking over the coffee machine to spot Yuji walking in with a wide smile, “hi baby!”

Yuko grins, “Hey, Yuji.” She leans over the counter, allowing Yuji to press a kiss against her cheek with a loud muah!

“What’s up?” Yuji asks curiously, letting his chin rest in his own palm.

“Y/N was just telling me about her first night in her new place,” Yuko replies.

“Ooh!” Yuji sings.

“She said he’s hot,” Yuko giggles.

A big smile spills across Yuji’s face and he teasingly wiggles his brows, “you got a crush?”

“No,” you say defensively. “I don’t even know him.”

“You can crush on someone and not know them,” Yuji shrugs.

“I don’t think you can.”

Yuji tuts, “ah-ah! Jennifer Lawrence, I don’t know her, but I have a crush on her.”

You look to Yuko, “you gonna let him say that?”

Yuko shrugs sheepishly, “I have a crush on her too so I think it’s okay.”

Yuji points at her, “see?”

You just playfully roll your eyes, “but seriously… What's the secret? Cus I think he already wants me to move out.”

“Fushiguro just takes time to warm up to people,” Yuji explains. “Just give it time.”

You wonder how long it’ll take for him to warm up to you. You’re a friendly person and you’re pretty bubbly but he just intimidates the hell out of you. But his apartment was way nicer than any of the other apartments near campus. And bonus points because the rent was rather cheap compared to other places you’d seen. So you can’t screw this up.

But again, you’re pretty sure he hated you.

He was always grumbling around and seemed to get annoyed when you would put the dishes away in the wrong spots (though he never outright told you this). And he seemed to get annoyed when you were in a shared space, either sitting down on the floor in front of the TV to study or at the kitchen counter with your textbooks strewn about. 

But no way in hell were you going to poke the bear and ask him if he hated you.

Because Megumi Fushiguro was a scary guy.

You think you’ve screwed yourself when Megumi makes a bee-line for you a few weeks later.

You’re sitting at your desk in your room with the door slightly open. You’re focused on the essay you’re trying to edit but it’s hard to ignore the dark and brooding cloud that is Megumi Fushiguro.

“You touch my shit?” He asks. It doesn’t sound mean or accusing but just the depth of his voice alone makes you nervous.

“Huh?” You squeak out, eyes shifting nervously.

“My clothes,” he holds out a folded shirt for emphasis, his other hand holding your door frame (and jesus christ his muscles look so good).

Fuck.

You gulp, “u-uh, yeah, I did. I needed more darks so I just… used some of yours…”

Megumi just stares at you, steely eyes narrow and harsh.

You smile sheepishly, though it’s not really a smile, more of a nervous twitch in your lips, “I’m sorry–”

“Just,” Megumi starts before he sighs, “don’t touch my shit.”

You nod quickly, “right. I’m sorry.”

It’s funny. 

You’ve only been here for a few weeks and Megumi is growing more and more frustrated by you. 

How you always manage to be there when he’s trying to use the shower or the kitchen or do his laundry. He realises the irony given you’re his fucking roommate but he can’t cope with this shit.

He finds himself staring when you walk around in tiny shorts and tight tank tops. Or when you slink down the hallway wrapped in a towel like he can’t see you. Or when you stretch your arms above your head while you’re studying, your shirt riding up and giving him the perfect view of your tummy–

Megumi stands outside the bathroom door, towel and a change of clothes in hand. 

He knew girls took a while in the shower but this? You’d been in there for around fifteen minutes, the shower running and your music playing softly from inside. Megumi and Yuji used to function fine with one bathroom between the two of them, but sharing with you, a girl, proved to be a little different.

“M’so sorry,” you squeak as you pull the door open, your hair wet and combed back, your face free of your usual makeup. 

“S’fine,” Megumi murmurs. 

You quickly duck your head and slink away and Megumi just fucking stares. His breath gets caught in his throat at the sight of your towel pulled tight around your body, giving him a perfect view of the outline of your ass. His eyes raked over your bare shoulders and he almost felt dizzy at the lingering smell of your strawberry scented shampoo.

Megumi coughed into his fist, feeling a certain stiffness in his pants making itself known. It’d been a while since he got laid so he’d just deal with it using a cold shower and thinking about violent video games or something.

You’re finding you have the same problem.

You feel your face flush when he comes home from the gym in compression shirts and sweatpants, an earbud stuck in his ear and his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. And you just sit there in the living room gawking like an idiot as he mumbles an annoyed ‘hey’ then proceeds to ignore you the rest of the night.

He’s caught you staring a few times, especially when you’re waiting for him to get out of the shower so you can use the bathroom and he emerges wrapped in nothing but a towel, his hair dripping water down his pale chest.

And you totally check him out before slapping a hand over your eyes, cheeks flushed as you squeak out an embarrassed, “sorry!”

He just rolls his eyes with a huff and disappears into his room, leaving you to bang your head against the wall because you’re so dumb.

Yuji was right, you do have a crush.

It’s truly a tragic predicament because he seems to have no interest in you. He barely acknowledges you, humming when you greet him and brushing past you when you’re using a shared space at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s actively avoiding you.

“I made you a coffee,” you’re trying to break the ice somehow because Megumi is so unbelievably unreadable that it hurts.

Megumi looks at you, half-lidded eyes tired and bored as he studies your nervous expression. You place the mug of hot coffee on the counter next to his set up of textbooks, notebooks, pens and his laptop.

You fiddle with your hands, “it’s just coffee and milk, I didn’t know if you wanted sugar–”

“Thanks,” he simply says, nodding with a tight-lipped smile before sticking his earbud back in his ear.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you awkwardly shuffle off to your room. Completely missing how Megumi watches you leave.

Once midterms roll around, Megumi disappears off the face of the earth. You don’t see him for weeks because he’s either cooped up in his room or he stays late on campus and you hear him get home at stupid hours of the night.

The next time you see him is at a party.

The frat house you’re at is packed with college students all at varying stages of drunkenness. You’ve maybe had half a drink, deciding to hide away in the kitchen and people-watch. Yuji and Yuko convinced you to come along since midterms were over and the stress swallowing the entire college campus had seemed to somewhat dissipate. 

One party wouldn’t hurt. 

“Yooo! Y/N you made it!” Yuji exclaims, an arm thrown around Yuko’s shoulders, the two of them clutching red plastic cups full of some mysteriously coloured alcohol. 

“Yeah, I thought I’d try and make some friends,” you reply as Yuko hands you a drink.

“Damn, then what are we?” Yuji’s teases, gesturing between himself and Yuko.

You roll your eyes playfully, “more friends, Itadori,” you clarify.

Yuji was a guy that was easy to get along with, always making friends no matter where he went. You became fast friends with Yuji after he and Yuko started dating since you were instrumental in convincing Yuko to give her number to him way back when.

“You and Fushiguro friends yet?” Yuko asked curiously, slightly yelling over the music.

You grit your teeth, “don’t think so. I put the dishes away wrong once and I think he’s hated me ever since.”

Yuji blows a raspberry, “yeah right, you should try and talk to him tonight, maybe hit on him, hm?” Yuji wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Why tonight?” You ask curiously.

“Cus he looks lonely,” Yuji points to the other end of the room.

You follow his finger and spot that familiar mop of messy black hair rather quickly. He’s leaning against the wall cradling a drink and damn he looks good in the black shirt he’s wearing, allowing you to totally check out and gawk at his lean muscular arms. He looks beyond bored, his steely blue eyes scanning the crowd with complete disinterest.

You didn’t even know he was coming to this thing and now you’re suddenly motivated to stay.

You gulp down the lump in your throat before squeezing the plastic cup of whatever the fuck in your hand. You lift it to your lips and chuck it back, the bitter alcohol burning your throat on the way down. 

“Atta girl!” Yuji exclaims, “go get your man!”

“You’re for the girls, you know that, Yuji?” You grin.

“I’ve been told,” he beams happily. 

You take Yuko’s drink off her and quickly throw hers back too, needing some liquid courage to get you over there because at least if you say something stupid, you can blame it on the alcohol. 

“Okay, maybe don’t overdo it,” Yuko pats your shoulder.

You take in a breath before nodding and squeezing past your friends, making your way toward your roommate. You didn’t even know he would be at this party, that’s how little you talk to one another. Yet you find yourself getting nervous and stupid around him. 

You’re barely five meters away from him when you stop dead in your tracks.

A blonde girl approaches Megumi, her shoulder bumping his as she leans against the wall next to him. He eyes her before taking a sip of his drink. You don’t hear what she says but he seems vaguely amused by it and you find yourself almost jealous that some random girl managed to get more emotion out of Megumi in the last two seconds than you have in the past two months.

Your heart thumps in your chest and you suddenly feel small and ridiculous. You clear your throat and quickly spin on your heel, heart thumping in your ears as you pick up another drink of whatever crazy jungle juice they’re serving at this frat party and chuck it back. 

He doesn’t even know it and he just crushed your spirit. 

“Uh oh,” Yuji grits his teeth.

“Why’s she coming back?” Yuko asks Yuji.

“I’m going to stand on a highway,” you grin maniacally. Yuko and Yuji peer behind you and spot the same blonde girl talking to Megumi, only this time she’s turned toward him, giving him her undivided attention as she yaps on about something. Megumi still seems vaguely uninterested but he nods along slowly.

“Yikes,” Yuji cringes, “not him talking to his ex.”

“Ex?” you squeak out.

Yuko nudges Yuji’s shoulder, giving him a ‘what the fuck, bro?’ look. Yuji quickly stammers, “I-I mean, they’ve been broken up for like two years, there’s nothing there.”

You don’t believe him for a second because it certainly didn’t look like nothing. You peek back over your shoulder and watch as Megumi chugs the rest of his drink and leaves, the blonde girl trailing behind him. Great, they’re gonna go have sex and you’re stuck having a crush on your roommate who will probably kick you out when he gets back with her. 

Great.

Great.

You turn back to Yuji and Yuko with a wide-eyed nervous smile.

Yuji grits his teeth, “you okay, Y/N?”

You squeak, “mhm, so good!”

Yuko and Yuji share a look with each other before Yuko sighs, “he’s not worth it anyway, you’re a catch, if he can’t see it then he’s stupid.”

You know she’s trying to make you feel better and you’re a relatively confident person, but when you start to crush on someone and they don’t offer any kind of reciprocation for your feelings, you start to feel a little… not so confident. 

Yuko and Yuji try to make you feel better, introducing you to their other friend Nobara who is much more aggressive in her pep talk.

“You’re a hot, sexy mama!” Nobara shakes your shoulders, her speech slurred slightly. “Who cares about that emo hoe anyway!”

You want to laugh but she honestly kind of scares you.

“You gotta get laid by some other guy! A hot guy!” Nobara hiccups, taking another swig from her cup. “Maybe fuck your ex or something! Or, or, or! Fuck one of Fushiguro’s classmates!”

“Uh, I don’t think losing my virginity at a party is exactly ideal,” you reply.

Nobara’s eyes bulge out of her head, “you’re a virgin!?” She says it so loud that a few heads turn and you shush her quickly.

“Tell the whole campus why don’t you?” You scold in a hushed tone.

“You’re hot though, babe,” she hiccups again. “You could pull anyone!”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious!”

You let loose after that, deciding to drink and do shots to avoid thinking about Megumi as if you don’t keep looking for him all night. You’re always peeking over your shoulder, searching for him in the crowd and flat out ignoring the guys Nobara and Yuko attempt to introduce you to. 

You’re not interested in the pre-med students or the business students or whatever the fuck.

You’re more interested in the tall, lean, handsome vet student who happens to be your roommate and who you haven’t seen all night.

After many more rounds of shots, a game of beer pong and poorly deciding to bet Yuji you could drink him under the table; you’re so drunk. You stumble around the party, hanging off Yuji, Nobara and Yuko since they are clearly equally as drunk as you with how they encourage your behaviour. 

Your head is fucking spinning and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

You stumble around the house, clutching the wall and stair bannister as you attempt to find the bathroom. You open a few random doors, spotting people making out, some other people fighting before you finally find the bathroom, bile rising in your throat and your vision going fuzzy. You find a bunch of people smoking what smells like weed in the bathroom, the smell hitting you in the face like a brick wall. 

They all start yelling at you to shut the door and you quickly slam it shut before you stumble back down the stairs, racing to the back door as you feel the vomit start to claw up your throat. You shove the door open, the outside air freezing cold and nipping at your hot skin. 

You half crawl toward the back fence, your stupid heels betraying you as you pathetically fall to your knees and throw your guts up in the garden.

Your brain is on fire and your stomach aches as you throw up all the alcohol in your system. You really shouldn’t have been mixing your alcohols, but Nobara was so convincing and Megumi had just stomped on your heart.

You suddenly feel two cold hands against your head, brushing over your ears as they pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail, holding it out of your face as you throw up. You’re thankful to whatever stranger is helping you out right now because you feel awful.

Tears prick at your eyes, a mix of tears and mascara running down your face because you really fucking hate throwing up and you really hate Megumi Fushiguro right now.

“You okay?” The man’s voice is distant and a little fuzzy.

You wave him off, “m’fine.”

“You’re crying,” he says softly, listening as you sniffle and wipe your tears away with the ball of your palm. There’s a pause, the man still holding your hair back, “why’re you crying?”

You shrug, “cus I’m sick and I’m s’drunk and some stoners yelled at me and roommate is an ass.”

He hums, “what’d he do? …Your roommate?”

“Nothing,” you whine with a soft sniffle.

“Nothing?” He repeats, his voice sounding slightly amused.

“Nothing,” you say again, ���that’s the problem.”

There’s a pause. “Why’s that a problem?”

You groan quietly, “why’re you grillin’ me? I’m s’drunk.”

He chuckles softly, “right, sorry.”

You don’t even know this guy and you immediately start rambling, “my friends helped me find a roommate and everyone neglected to tell me he ws’ hot! And I’m tryin’ to get him to like, notice me, but he’s so mean and I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he hates me. Then he was with his ex at this party right before I ws’ gonna go talk to him! Can you believe that?”

“Wow, he is an ass,” the man says matter-of-factly, validating your feelings.

“Thank you,” you slur before you feel your tummy do a flip and you’re throwing up in the garden again. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing your lipgloss messily. You sniffle again, “m’sorry stranger.”

“S’okay,” he rubs your shoulder, still holding your hair back.

You wake up the next morning with the most vicious headache. 

You roll over with a groan, your head pounding and your mouth tasting of acid and whatever the hell was in that jungle juice last night. You press your face into your pillow and groan softly, your entire body feeling like shit. After a few painful seconds, you pry your eyes open, your vision fuzzy and your eyes sore. 

You’re in your bed.

Now how the fuck did you get here?

You sit up slowly, your head pounding and spinning with a wonderfully terrible hangover. You spot your shoes on the floor of your room, neatly sitting next to your desk along with your folded jacket. You half remember someone taking you home, maybe it was Yuji? Fuck, you better thank him.

You take your phone off your side table (which was miraculously put on charge last night) and search for Yuko’s number, you press her name and the phone rings a few times before she answers.

“H-Hello?” Yuko groans, her voice saturated with exhaustion.

“Are you as lucid as I am?” You cringe, rubbing your eyes with the ball of your palm.

You hear Yuko muffle a groan into her pillow, clearly as insanely hungover as you, “we got so drunk.”

“Is Itadori okay?” you ask with a wince.

“He’s throwing up in the shower right now,” she replies.

“That’s rough,” you want to laugh but it hurts too much.

“Well he did crash the beer pong and drank half a bottle of midori so,” she trails off.

“Can you tell him thanks for taking me home?” you sigh.

Yuko pauses, “Yuji didn’t take you home.”

Huh?

“What?” you sit up in bed.

“Babe, Yuji was so drunk he tried to pet a rat in the street, he did not take you home,” she says.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Then who did?”

“Y/N… Fushiguro took you home.”

What?

—

Megumi nurses a drink in his hand as he watches you from across the room. He can’t help the way his chest tightens as he hears you laugh at something Yuji says, your nose scrunching cutely as you let out a bubbly laugh. 

He also can’t help the way his eyes drift down your body, thinking you look cute with your hair done like that. You’re usually wearing baggy sweaters and shorts around the house, he’s never seen this outfit before and he really likes it.

He thinks you look pretty. You always look pretty but this outfit in particular has him short-circuiting like a teenager. 

He thinks back to when he got unnecessarily mad at you over washing his clothes and how he’ll never fucking admit it but they smelled so good. He’s not sure what the hell you used to wash them but they smelled amazing, they smelled like you.

Megumi has to tear his eyes away when his gaze drops to your cute little ass in that mini skirt. He feels like a perv. He lives with you for god sake, he can’t be thinking such things about his roommate. Not when he has to live with you for the next few years. 

Megumi takes a long swig of his drink, attempting to stifle the thoughts with terrible tasting alcohol and pure willpower. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever see Megumi Fushiguro at a party.”

Megumi has to stop himself from rolling his eyes when he hears her voice. 

Hana leans against the wall beside him with a sly grin on her face, her shoulder bumping his. He knows she’s doing it just to annoy him, of course she is. 

“Why’re you talking to me?” Megumi grumbles out, refusing to give her the satisfaction of eye contact as he sips on his drink because he’s gonna need alcohol or a fucking hammer to the head to get him through this interaction.

“Can’t say hi to my ex-boyfriend?” She teases, leaning her head toward him.

Megumi rolls his eyes for real this time, “you’ve said hi.”

“Oh, boo, you’re so not fun,” Hana playfully shoves his shoulder.

Megumi lets out a huffed fake laugh, “I’m really torn up about it.”

Hana talks to him about some random bullshit and Megumi isn’t even listening because he knows she’s drunk and she would be stupid to approach him sober. His eyes are instead glued to you, feeling himself get slightly jealous when Yuji puts a hand on your back to lead to toward the kitchen–

“–and you’re still mad,” Hana slurs. Megumi didn’t hear a word she said up until now.

Megumi side-eyes her, feeling rather annoyed by her incessant nagging, “you done?”

Hana rolls her eyes, “I’m just saying you could at least have a civil conversation.”

Megumi feels his eye twitch, “I think you lose civil-conversation privileges when you– I don’t know– lie and cheat?”

Hana scoffs and Megumi decides he doesn’t want to listen to her bullshit anymore and promptly walks off, shoving his hands in his pockets as he attempts to lose Hana in the crowd. She follows him around like some stupid puppy for a while before growing bored, probably going off to annoy some other poor sucker.

She also seems to lose interest when she notices Megumi simply doesn’t care anymore. She does this sometimes, drunkenly messaging him every few months only for him to promptly block her account without a word. He’s starting to think she’s the one that won’t move on.

Megumi sighs when he steps outside into the backyard, sitting down on the edge of the porch and deciding to look busy by scrolling on his phone. It’s quieter outside, the backyard mostly empty apart from a few people smoking cigarettes and vaping by the back fence.

Megumi Fushiguro is lonely.

Lonely in the sense that after Hana, he became decidedly more stoic and standoffish. She was his first serious girlfriend and he was stupid and naive for so long before Yuji and Nobara pointed out the rather obvious red flags that Megumi was painfully unaware of.

Because he was young and she was a little older, so she had to know better, right?

Maybe he really was too clingy and maybe he really did need to stop asking to hang out all the time. He felt utterly stupid when he found out she was cheating on him. It made sense, he was too clingy, too needy, too much.

Megumi reverted back in on himself for a long time, becoming sad and angry before he just stopped giving a shit.

He did a lot to forget about the anger and pain he felt from Hana.

He slept around to forget about her, becoming reserved and aloof over time. He eventually did get over it because why the fuck was it his fault that she cheated on him?

But the things she made him feel about himself lingered. 

Made him wonder if he really was too needy and clingy to be a good boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t respectful enough of a person’s space and he needed to stop trying so hard. 

He didn’t go on dates much, everyone always thought he was too mean or rude to ever ask a girl on a date. Sure he slept with girls but they were quick to leave right after with a “yeah, yeah… I can call you if you want?”

If you want.

He just felt embarrassed, letting them gather their clothes and leave his apartment or usher him out of theirs while half-assed promising to text him later. Megumi didn’t know who was using who at that point.

Megumi is shaken from his thoughts when a body almost falls into him. He goes to argue with whoever the fuck can’t watch their step when he sees you.

Your shoes half fall off as you crawl toward the back fence to hurl up everything in your stomach. Megumi quickly slips his phone in his pocket and strides across the lawn toward you. 

You’re totally out of it.

Megumi pulls your hair out of your face as you vomit, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your skirt is riding up and your top is pulled low on your chest. 

“You okay?” Megumi asks softly, maybe one of the very few things he’s ever said to you. He gently adjusts your top, pulling the strap back onto your shoulder and pulling it up a little to cover the lacy material of your bra. You obviously don’t realise you’re compromising yourself and he adjusts himself behind you to cover your skirt as it rides up your thighs.

There are guys who are nudging each other and pointing at you and Megumi’s gaze hardens on them, suddenly feeling agitated.

“M’fine,” you mumble out with a soft sniffle.

Megumi’s heart melts, “why’re you crying?”

You proceed to sniffle and pout while you tell him all about how your roommate is an ass… without realising you’re talking to your roommate.

He thinks it’s cute, finding you so adorably amusing with how animatedly you speak despite being rather drunk and sick. He finds it sad though that it took you being so drunk for him to sum up enough courage to talk to you.

It scared him how you made his heart hammer in his chest, how your mere gaze on him suddenly made him nervous. But he couldn’t stop himself from staring. You were too cute with your dorky little grin as you stood at his front door telling him all about how you were his new roommate. He made a mental note to curse Yuji out for not telling him Yuko’s friend was a pretty girl and not the six foot two fucking pro wrestler guy he made you sound like.

You can’t possibly have any more to throw up, your skin feverish and clammy as your fingers curl into the grass below you. Megumi rubs your shoulder gently before he feels you slump against him, sniffling and tiredly whimpering beside him.

Megumi goes stiff, unsure of what to do with you. 

He should probably take you home.

“M’gonna take you home, okay?” Megumi says, feeling your body go a little more limp as you nod and pout in response.

Megumi easily picks you up, your legs dangling and your head falling against his chest, then he feels like he can’t breathe.

You look so pretty even when your skin flushes a little pale from being so sick and your baby hairs stick to your clammy skin. He carries you around the side of the house to avoid taking you back through the loud ass party.

You don’t make a peep as Megumi sits you in the passenger seat of his car, your head falling against the car window as he pulls your seatbelt over your shoulder, clipping it by your waist. He quickly sends Yuji a message to let him know he’s taking you home, though he doubts Yuji will pay attention to his phone since he seemed to be having a really good time taking shots and singing bad karaoke.

The car ride is silent and all Megumi can think about is what you said.

Maybe he kind of was being an ass to you. He hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know you or make you feel welcome because, in all honesty, you freak him out with how you made him feel without even trying.

So instead, he ignores you.

Pretending he doesn’t notice how your tongue pokes out from between your lips when you’re deep in focus, or how you always wear fuzzy socks around the house when you don’t have classes, or how you do a little jump to reach things on the higher shelves (which makes him melt), or how you still look at him with such kindness despite how piss poor he behaves around you.

Megumi holds you close as he opens your bedroom door, pushing it the rest of the way open to set you down on your bed. Your hair is messy and your clothes are disheveled, a little pout on your cute little lips as you sway slightly. 

You fall back onto your bed, your head hitting the soft pillow. Megumi sighs before sitting on the edge of your bed, large hands reaching to pull your shoes off for you. 

Your feet look like they hurt, little red blisters forming on your heels and toes. He gently pulls your shoes off and sets them down by your bedside table. You sigh with relief at the feeling of having your feet free of their heel prison. 

Megumi breathes softly and just studies you for a moment. It’s dark in your room but he can see the gentle outline of your face and the curve of your cheek. Your room is quiet apart from your soft breaths and Megumi prays you can’t hear his thumping heart. 

Megumi lets his eyes wander, unable to tear his gaze away from the soft lacy hem of your bra peeking over your top. His breath hitches in his throat and he suddenly feels disgusting for wondering if your panties match your bra— He closes his eyes, biting the inside of his lip.

You whine in your sleep, some of your hair falling in front of your face as you squirm. Without thinking, he reaches up and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You stir at the feeling and Megumi pulls away, scared he woke you.

“Mm, where’m I?” you slur, eyes still pressed closed.

“You’re home, don’t worry,” Megumi replies softly.

“Mm, okay,” you breathe, “thanks, Yuji…”

Megumi’s heart sinks but his face remains unchanged. Of course you’d think Yuji took you home, he’s your friend. Why would you Megumi do something like that for you?

He pulls away from you with a quiet sigh, “get some sleep, Y/N.”

—

“How do you know he took me home?” You ask, shaking your head slightly as you restock the mini fridge under the counter with milk.

You managed to shake off the hangover after three days of staying curled up in bed drinking water, throwing back ibuprofen and watching kitchen nightmares on your laptop with all the lights off. But now you’re back at work being blinded by the awful fluorescent lights and smelling of burnt coffee.

Yuko presses a button on the coffee machine, “he texted Yuji, told him he was gonna take you home,” Yuko replies, her hands on her hips.

You let out a shaky sigh, eyebrows furrowed in confusion because why would Megumi have taken you home when he seems so perpetually annoyed by you?

And how did he even find you? You remember the smell of the weed in the bathroom and people yelling at you, then you remember stumbling into the backyard like a bumbling fool, then— 

Oh, no.

“I don’t even know where you went, you’re lucky Fushiguro kept an eye on you–”

“No!” You suddenly squeak.

Yuko gives you a dazed look, “what? What happened?”

You press your hands to your face, drawing out a muffled groan because it just fucking dawned on you who held your hair back in the garden that night.

“It was him!”

“What are you talking about? Who?”

“Fushiguro! He held my hair back in the garden! I called him an ass!” you whine.

Yuko pauses for a moment before she just starts laughing, pressing her hand to her mouth to muffle the sound. You look up at her with the most offended look on your face.

You throw a rag at her, “don’t laugh! I was so mean!”

“That’s one way to break the ice,” she giggles, flinching away from you as you playfully swat at her leg with another rag.

“Ozawa…” you whine, “he must be so mad at me.”

“He still took you home after that though? I think you’re overthinking it.”

“He should have left me there in that damp backyard in my own vomit!” you say dramatically. “No wonder he thinks I’m a fucking idiot.”

“I really doubt he thinks that,” Yuko rolls her eyes, becoming sick of this beating-around-the-bush mantra you’ve got going on.  

“I have to pay all the rent for like, a year as an apology.”

“Can you even afford that?”

“No!”

You slug around for the rest of your shift, moping about behind the counter and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. When the end of your shift rolls around, you feel more and more nervous about going home now that you’ve figured out you called Megumi an ass to his face.

Before you clean the coffee machine, you make a coffee to take home for him since he seems to always drink the coffees you make for him even if he seems annoyed by you interrupting his studying. 

Your hands are shaking as you unlock the front door, holding a cup of hot coffee and a cinnamon bun in a paper back in your other hand. Your heart is in your throat as you push the door open, peeking inside.

You see Megumi from the front door, he’s sitting at his desk in the living room, laptop open and a few notebooks stacked beside him. Classes haven’t even ramped back up yet and he’s already studying.

You kick your shoes off and shuffle down the hall, heartbeat thumping in your ears and suddenly feeling a chill down your spine at the idea of facing your roommate who you insulted.

You clear your throat, “uh, h-hey.”

Megumi has his earbuds in but he notices you standing there in the corner of his eyes. He takes his earbuds out, “you okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I got you a coffee.”

You place it down beside him. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours.

Your knees feel weak under his steely gaze. You quickly hand him the paper bag, “and a cinnamon bun.”

“Thanks,” he says simply.

There’s a long awkward pause before you huff out a shaky sigh, “listen, Fushiguro– I’m sorry about the other night when I like, threw up everywhere and called you an ass–”

“S’fine,” Megumi replies blankly.

“No, really, I was mean and rude and I didn’t mean it–”

“I know, idiot,” he cuts you off again, “seriously, it’s fine.”

Your lips form a tight line, eyebrows furrowed with worry because it’s not fine. You want to say more but you’re pretty sure Megumi doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Which is understandable, you’re just happy he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

You toy with your fingers for a moment before you nod awkwardly, shuffling off toward your room. You miss as Megumi watches you leave again, feeling stupid for how bad he is at talking about his feelings.

You avoid Megumi like the plague after that.

You’re so utterly embarrassed by what you said and you can only imagine how mad he is about it but at least he’s doing you a favour by not mentioning it.

You disappear from any room he walks into, slinking by and apologising awkwardly when you take up too much time in the bathroom, or bowing your head and averting your gaze when he walks into the kitchen, you’re embarrassed and you feel awful, and it bothers you that Megumi is so vague and mysterious about how he feels about you, sure he took you home and pulled your dirty shoes off your feet and put you to bed. But he also gives you curt nods and vague responses that leave you wondering whether or not he likes you or just tolerates you. 

Are you friends? Just roommates? Does he like you? Does he hate you? 

You’ve got no earthly idea and the easiest way to survive in such a predicament is to just avoid the very thing that’s causing the problem. 

And Megumi is so damn annoyed by it.

At first it was him who was avoiding you, hiding away in his room so he didn’t have to interact with you and now that he knows you’ve been trying to get him to notice you, he’s been trying to linger around nearby and sort of force the proximity because he has no idea how to approach you like a normal fucking person. 

He reaches things for you on the top shelf when you can’t reach them, he makes sure to take your sweaters out of the washing machine so they don’t shrink, he even sets aside the caramel flavoured coffee pods for you because he knows they’re your favourite. 

He’s bad at all of this. The talking part.

What if you think he’s too needy or too clingy or too much? That would just embarrass him even more than he already is. 

Megumi lets you be, assuming that you’re probably regretting everything you said that night after he so blatantly blew you off when you brought home a coffee for him the other night.

But you talk again when your car doesn’t start.

“Fuck,” you groan, turning your key in the ignition for the third time in the past minute, the engine ticking, ticking, ticking before you give up. You whine and give a half-hearted punch to the steering wheel. 

You knew this would happen eventually. 

Your car is run down and sort of shitty. You have to basically shoulder check the driver’s side door to get it open and you can’t actually open one of the back doors anymore because it refuses to unlock. But you’re broke and the damn thing gets you from A to B, except for today.

It’s raining and your hair is stuck to your head from the mad dash you did from the front door to your car and now it won’t even start. 

You’re basically drenched when you step back inside the front door.

“I thought you left already?” Megumi questions from the kitchen, holding a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“My stupid car won’t– oh,” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet with Megumi clearly fresh out of the shower.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips and no shirt, little droplets of water slipping down his broad shoulders and chest from his slightly damp hair. He’s looking at you with a bored expression, waiting for you to continue.

You clear your throat and decide the ceiling is so very interesting, “u-uh, yeah, my car won’t start, ‘m just gonna walk–”

“You’re gonna walk?” Megumi’s eyes narrow.

“I mean I’m poor so,” you give a sheepish laugh.

Megumi rolls his eyes, putting the bowl of cereal down on the counter and turning on his heel to pull his black hoodie off the couch, slipping it over his head.

“We’ll take my car,” he says, grabbing his keys off the side table beside the couch.

Your eyes widen, “huh? What– no, it’s fine–”

“Walking in this weather would be dumb,” Megumi grumbles, “just get in my car, idiot.”

You press your mouth shut and do as you're told, trailing behind him as he picks up his umbrella by the door, holding it over your head as you take the short walk to his car. Megumi holds the umbrella completely over you, the heavy rain completely drenching his left shoulder.

“You’re getting wet,” you point out.

“M’aware,” he retorts without looking at you.

Your shoulder bumps with Megumi’s bicep given the height difference between you. You’ve never been this close to him before, well, at least not sober. You never realised how much taller he is than you, it makes you feel kind of safe.

Megumi unlocks his car and opens the door for you, holding the umbrella completely over you until you’re safe in the passenger seat of his car. You curl your fingers around your tote bag nervously, Megumi getting in the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” you squeak out.

Megumi starts up his car, his car being one of those ones that has a push button to start instead of a key, “I don’t mind,” he shrugs.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, your heart punching against your chest. You take a breath before you look over at Megumi.

“Do you hate me, Fushiguro?”

The question just hangs there and Megumi feels his heart falter at such a question because no, he doesn’t hate you. Not even a little.

It upsets him that you think he hates you, that you think so little of yourself that you let yourself get torn up over what he thinks of you.

He had no idea he was coming off that way, that you genuinely thought he hated you. 

He opens his mouth to speak but it never comes out. He’s not sure what to say or what to do to make you see that hate is the furthest thing from his mind when it comes to you. But instead, Megumi’s mind is choked with thoughts and it’s so overwhelming that he just clutches the steering wheel and silently drives you to campus. 

He still hasn’t spoken when he parks the car.

The two of you are silent for a moment before he hears you sniffle, his heart snapping in two at the mere sound of it. 

“T-Thank you,” you murmur, quickly pushing the door open and shuffling out before Megumi can protest.

No. Fuck. No, he didn’t mean it like that.

“Y/N, wait,” he gets out of the driver’s side, umbrella clutched in his fist.

You’re holding your tote bag tight to your chest as you walk across the pavement in the pouring fucking rain. 

“Y/N!” Megumi is behind you, his hand curling around your upper arm and stopping you in your tracks.

You pause, turning to face him, eyes glassy and doe-like as you stare up at him, “what is it?” you force out. 

You both hope he says something, anything. He pants, his hair sticking to his face as his steely eyes show the first ounce of emotion you’ve seen from him. 

“Y-You…” Megumi doesn’t stammer, he never does. “Take it,” he holds out the umbrella for you.

A silence hangs between you and you sigh, taking the umbrella from his grasp and opening it above your head, leaving him there in the carpark. 

—

Megumi beat himself up over it for days.

He picks you up that same rainy afternoon, the two of you not uttering a single word to one another other than a ‘hey’ from him and a ‘thank you’ from you. He wants to tell you everything, that he’s really bad at talking about things and that he doesn’t hate you. 

He’s not sure how to prove it to you, the words dying in his throat the moment he shares a room with you for more than five seconds. He’s not sure what to say or how to say it.

Hana always told him he talked too much. Which was crazy because Megumi was a man of very few words. But when the two of them would fight, he was always so adamant at resolving the issue and getting to the root of the problem instead of just letting it hang in the air and choke him.

He sometimes wonders if that’s why she cheated.

You don’t talk to Megumi for a while. Feeling small and embarrassed about asking him such a question when you knew deep down it wasn’t true and you just wanted to hear it from him. 

But it hurt when he didn’t deny your question, when he just stayed silent and let you fuss over it for days. You’ve lost sleep, laying away at night and wondering if you should just talk to him. 

Megumi tries to approach you, he really does. 

He thinks about knocking on your bedroom door late at night but every time he finds himself standing outside, arm held up about to knock, he stops himself and wonders if he even deserves to talk to you. 

If he even deserves to try again. 

“I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

He knew it wasn’t true at face value. He knew Hana wasn’t good for him in the end, but it’s hard to ignore such bitterness coming from someone you used to love. 

“Hey, Yuko,” you greet softly, phone pressed to your ear. “Can I ask a favour?”

“Of course… you okay, Y/N?” Yuko asks slowly, her voice gentle.

You pause, “I just… I need a ride to campus until I can get my car fixed. Would you and Itadori mind if I tagged along? I’ll give you fuel money.”

Yuko pauses this time, “…You didn’t ask Fushiguro?”

You toy with your fingers nervously, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

She hums and nods, “We can take you, Y/N.” 

Yuko knows you well enough to know that something happened. You spoke so timidly and she could tell you were nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. She would talk to Yuji about it; hopefully he could knock some sense into his best friend. 

It's first thing Monday morning when you emerge from your room with your tote bag over your shoulder and your hair done in a messy claw clip. You look tired, bags forming under your eyes and you make a beeline for the door without even acknowledging Megumi. 

“Do you need a ride?” Megumi sits up straighter on the couch and holds his keys up as if he didn’t set an alarm just to take you to class. 

“Uh, no, thanks. Ozawa and Itadori are taking me,” you say sheepishly, barely offering him a glance. 

Megumi’s heart cracks a little. He wants to say something, tell you he’s sorry and ask if he can please take you to class. But he doesn’t, mouth staying shut as he nods quickly, “right. Okay.” 

You leave without another word, the apartment feeling awful and still without you. Megumi’s leg bounces nervously and his blunt nails scratch at the inside of his knee. He’s anxious and he wants to fix it so desperately but he feels like he’s only making it worse.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuji greets with a warm smile.

You offer him a half smile before getting in the back seat. Yuko and Yuji share a look with one another before Yuji backs out of the apartment parking lot. There’s an intensity hanging in the air and you just stare out the window with a blank expression, vaguely paying attention to the music on the radio.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yuji asks softly, eyeing you through the rearview mirror.

“M’fine,” you whisper back, too afraid to trust your voice.

“What happened?” Yuko reaches back between the seats to touch your knee affectionately. 

You shrug, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Yuko pulls her hand away from you and glances at her boyfriend, the two of them making a silent agreement to talk to Fushiguro after dropping you off instead of going to their morning classes.

Yuji slams the door open, nearly sending Megumi flying into the roof with how loud it was, “Fushiguro!”

“The fuck are you yelling for?” Megumi spits, gaze softening slightly after realising Yuko was trailing behind Yuji.

Yuko frowns, “what did you say to Y/N?”

“What?”

“She was upset, Fushiguro,” Yuji crosses his arms, “what did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” Megumi defends quickly.

“Then why is she upset?” Yuko’s brows furrow.

Megumi sighs, “she just asked me if I hated her–”

Yuji cuts him off, “and what did you say?”

Megumi averts his gaze, “nothing.”

“You said what?” Yuko presses.

“I didn’t know what to say–”

“You say, ‘no Y/N, I don’t!’,” Yuji mocks before landing a punch to Megumi’s shoulder, “you upset her, bro.”

“I know,” Megumi grumbles.

“Then why didn’t you apologise?” Yuko asks.

“I didn’t know how,” Megumi dejectedly sighs. “I didn’t expect it.”

“She likes you, man. Like a lot,” Yuji shakes his head, his heart hurting a little at the fact that Megumi looks really torn up about the whole situation too.

There’s a long pause, “can you lie to her?”

“What?” Yuko and Yuji ask in unison.

“Tell her you can’t pick her up,” Megumi adds, “please.”

Yuji and Yuko share another look and Yuko sighs before nodding her head, taking out her phone to tell you that she and Yuji can’t come get you because Yuji’s brother called and needed his help. It’s not a great lie, but you’ll believe it at first glance.

—

Your phone buzzes in the middle of class. You’re tired and you feel like shit and the professor’s monotone voice is boring you half to death. You flip your phone over and read the message from Yuko.

Yuko <3: Hey, Y/N. Choso called and he needs to borrow Yuji’s car, we can’t come get you this afternoon. Sorry hun x

You frown.

Yuko <3: But don’t worry, Fushiguro is coming to get you.

You panic, quickly unlocking your phone to message her back, telling her you’ll get an uber or just walk but you get a message from an unknown number only a second later.

Unknown: I’ll come get you.

You rest your head in your palm and go to message him back telling him it’s fine but the speech bubbles appear and reappear before he sends the message.

Unknown: Please wait.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pittering loudly in your chest. You zone out for the remainder of the class, nervously chewing on your nails and tapping on the desk. You don’t want to talk to Megumi, you really don’t. At least not while you feel like shit and your thoughts are a huge mess.

You sit on the grass after your lecture, pulling at the blades of grass by your feet while you stare at the ground, teeth nipping anxiously at the inside of your lower lip. You don’t know what Megumi wants to say to you or why he even agreed to pick you up if he was so against talking about whatever the hell was going on between you two.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a pair of black sneakers intrudes on your line of sight, you know it’s Megumi from the little scuff marks on the edge since they’re so worn out but they’re his favourite pair.

He doesn’t say anything as he stares at you, hands shoved in the pockets off his hoodie like they always are. You wordlessly stand up, pulling your tote bag to your chest and pushing past him without a word.

“Y/N, I–”

You’re too far ahead of him now, making your way to his parked car on the curb. His head hurts and his chest is tight with nerves but he’s quick to unlock the car for you and let you scoot into the passenger seat.

Megumi quickly joins you, turning on the car and just sitting there for a moment, hands tight around the wheel. 

“I–” Megumi feels his throat close up, “I’m sorry.” You feel your eyes glass over but you don’t offer him anything else but he continues, “I don’t hate you, Y/N.”

“S’fine if you do,” you say quietly, “I know I can be annoying and intrusive–”

“–What? You’re not–”

“And I understand if you want me to move out–”

“No, Y/N, I don’t want that–”

You’re rambling now without thinking, “–nd I know you probably need me to move out cus of that girl at the party–”

“What girl?” Now he’s fucking confused.

“And she’s pretty and I saw you talking to her–”

Wait, his ex?

“–Wait, Y/N, that’s not–”

“And I’m sorry I was so drunk–”

“Y/N, stop!” Megumi didn’t mean to yell, but it instantly shuts you up. He peers over at you and you’re crying, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“S’okay,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away.

“No, it’s not… You just wouldn’t shut up,” Megumi makes an attempt at dry humour, letting you know it was a joke by following up with a half-assed breathy laugh.

You just look at him, eyes slightly red.

“I– Fuck,” Megumi curses, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. 

The two of you stay silent, the only thing either of you hear is your quiet sniffling. Megumi sighs, running a hand through his messy hair before speaking, “...she cheated on me.”

Your eyes widen a little.

“That girl you saw. Yeah, she was my ex but… she cheated on me.”

“...I’m sorry, Fushiguro.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles.

“It’s your name,” you retort.

“I don’t want you to call me Fushiguro,” he presses his eyes shut.

Your lips form a tight line and you just watch him, waiting patiently for him to continue because you can tell he’s trying really hard.

“Can you just call me Megumi,” he sighs. “Please?”

You nod, “okay, Megumi,” you whisper softly.

“...I don’t hate you, Y/N. Not even a little,” his eyes finally meet yours.

“You’re really bad at showing it,” you say with a breathy laugh.

“I know… M’just really–” he stops himself, his hand scrunching against the material over his thigh, “I’m just scared.”

Your heart shatters, a pout pulling at your lip because you feel like you’re about to cry again. You study him for a moment, your heart warming at the sight of Megumi Fushiguro being so utterly soft and nervous.

You hesitate for a moment before you reach your hand over the centre console to stop him from grabbing and pulling at his own thigh. His hand is cold and his palm is rough but it’s him. And you were sitting here thinking you needed his comfort when really he needed yours.

He flinches at the gentleness of your touch, your hand is smaller than his but it’s so soft and warm. 

He lets you wrap your fingers around the back of his hand, lets you roll his hand over and press your palm to his. It’s comforting and it’s sweet.

“You don’t need to be scared, Gumi.”

His heart flutters at the nickname and his steely blue eyes nervously meet yours. He nods his head slowly and you smile.

“Feel better?” You ask softly.

Megumi holds your hand in his, eyes still searching yours before they flicker down to your lips briefly. You catch the quick movement and your body reacts without any input from your brain, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“Gumi?”

Megumi doesn’t need much more motivation than that and his other hand lets go of the wheel to reach over and cup your warm cheek. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes flicker between his nervously. His eyes are half-lidded, nose grazing yours and your hand squeezes tight around his.

“S’okay,” he coos softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “M’gonna kiss you.”

Your heart is in your throat and you start overthinking it, thinking back to the maybe handful of times a boy has kissed you, but never a man, never someone like Megumi.

You nod your head quickly and a smile tugs at the corner of Megumi’s lip because you’re so fucking cute.

You feel the world melt away when Megumi’s breath fans across your lips, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, guiding you to tilt your head slightly as he finally, finally, closes the distance between you, his slightly chapped lips meeting yours.

You melt into his warmth, one hand nervously holding his while the other has a death grip on the strap of your tote bag. 

His lips move against yours, becoming a little more feverish and needy when you let out a soft whine. He feels himself go feral, wanting to drag you into the back seat and take you in this stupid parking lot where everyone can see.

But instead he takes it slow, pressing your lips against his and his hand tangling in your soft hair. You’re nervous and a little inexperienced, he can tell but it only drives him more insane.

He pulls away only a fraction, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips when he realises your lips chase his, your other hand coming to curl around his hoodie sleeve to bring him closer.

“Wasn’t so bad?” Megumi whispers.

You have the most innocent little look on your face, “does that mean you like me?”

Megumi can only chuckle softly at how damn cute you are, “I don’t just kiss any girl like that, Y/N.”

You nod timidly, “m’kay, Gumi.”

Megumi wants to kiss you again but refrains because he knows he’ll want to do other things to you with how you utter the nickname with such innocence, but you’re in a parking lot on your college campus and there are about fifty people that have walked by in the past ten minutes.

But when you get home?

“Megumi–” your hands are clutching the front of his hoodie as he kisses the side of your cheek, then your temple, then above your eyebrow, “wait a second.”

“S-Sorry,” he mutters against your warm skin. 

You’ve barely got one foot in the door and Megumi already has you pinned against the wall in the hallway, a large hand cupping your head while the other rests on your waist. He pants softly, lips itching to kiss you and kiss you hard.

“I’m sorry too,” you say breathlessly. “For not seeing.”

Megumi shakes his head, “you don’t need to be sorry.”

“But I am,” you murmur, “you’re really bad at talking about your feelings but I should have been more observant.”

“S’okay, Y/N,” he rests his forehead against yours, “m’just glad you let me pick you up.”

“I thought about just walking,” you giggle, “letting you grovel for a little longer.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you didn’t either,” he smiles softly, running the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

You fall silent, hands just holding onto his hoodie while he presses feather-light kisses to your face. You suddenly feel nervous when you feel a certain stiffness against your thigh.

“...Do you want to–”

“I’m a virgin.”

Megumi pulls away from you, “W-What?”

“You were gonna ask if we could… y’know,” your eyes shift away from him, “I panicked.”

Megumi laughs, like actually, laughs at that.

“Don’t laugh,” you playfully punch his shoulder, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “A lot of people are still virgins in college.”

“M’not laughing at that,” he grins. “You’re just… you’re really cute.”

You feel your face heat at that, “stop it.”

“M’serious.”

“You’re always serious.”

“Whatever.”

You giggle softly, letting him press a soft peck to your lips.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie,” Megumi lies through his teeth, liking the way you flush and stammer at outing yourself. 

“Oh,” you say quietly. 

“Why ‘oh’?” He teases.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, brows knit.

“What?” he presses with a shit-eating grin. 

“Nothing,” you retort.

“...Did you want to have sex?”

Your heart drops, eyes widening slightly because yes, you do want to have sex with Megumi. You’d never really thought much about sex until him. Never thought you’d want a guy to manhandle you or put his hands all over your body until Megumi.

“Can we?” you ask timidly.

Megumi feels a pang in his heart because you’re so fucking cute he might pass away. He smiles before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “if you want to.”

“But do you want to?”

Megumi doesn’t need to think very hard about that one.

“I’ve wanted you in my bed since I first met you, Y/N.”

You breathe hard, your heart racing in your chest and you’re sure it’s loud enough for Megumi to hear how fucking nervous yet turned on you are. Your eyes fall to his lips again, revelling in the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips.

You press up on your tiptoes, Megumi’s head slowly tilting and following you, wondering what you’re doing. Your soft lips graze the shell of his ear and you smile cheekily, about to fucking out yourself with the last of your confidence. 

“Fuck me then.”

Megumi slams you against the wall, arms caging your body as he presses his lips hard against yours. The kiss is needy and feverish, a mess of clashing teeth and wandering hands. Megumi’s hand cups the back of your head, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss.

His tongue presses against your lips before sliding into your mouth, earning a soft whine from your throat that you didn’t mean to sound so desperate. Your fists curl around the material of his hoodie, pulling Megumi impossibly closer.

Megumi’s free hand drops from your waist to your hip, squeezing your skin. His other hand drops from your head to curl over your hips and grope your ass. Both of his hands cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh and earning a soft mewl from your throat.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” Megumi mutters against your lips, his messy hair tickling your forehead. You want to moan and whine at the nickname but instead you kiss him again.

You’ve got the hang of this kissing thing but you still have no fucking idea where to put your hands without making him uncomfortable– as if his hands aren’t groping your ass.

Megumi pulls away slightly breathless, “you wanna stop?”

“No,” you shake your head quickly, “no, I don’t wanna stop.”

Megumi grins, kissing your cheek, “okay, sweet girl.”

Megumi leads you to his bedroom, his hand never leaving yours and your other hand never letting go of his hoodie sleeve. He pushes his bedroom door open, his lips on your instantly as he backs you up to his bed. The backs of your thighs hit his mattress and you fall backward, bringing Megumi with you. 

Megumi chuckles softly against your lips before kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the underside of your jaw, then your neck. His hand paws at the bottom hem of your sweater, his fingers slipping underneath to ghost over the skin of your bare tummy. 

“M’gonna take it off, okay?” 

You nod sheepishly, “okay.”

“You tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathes.

“I will, Gumi,” you reply with a whisper, kissing the tip of his nose.

Megumi grins affectionately before his hands grip the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up slightly. Your breath hitches in your throat and he slowly pulls your sweater upward and over your tits. You’re not wearing a shirt, just a lacy black bra, just like the one he got a peek of at the party.

“Pretty,” Megumi murmurs, pressing a kiss to your chest, right between your collarbones. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him against your hot skin as he peppers kisses across your chest, finally pulling your sweater over your head and tossing it aside. You’re left in your pretty bra and a short little skirt that finished above your mid thigh. 

God how he wants to bite and suck on your pretty plush thighs.

His hand snakes underneath you, fingers fiddling with your bra clasp at your back. Your breathing quickens and Megumi kisses your cheek, “s’okay… m’here.”

He unclasps your bra, the cups loosening around your tits and the straps going slack on your shoulders. His fingers ghost over your shoulder as he pulls the strap down your shoulder, pressing soft kisses in his wake.

“C-Can you go faster?” You whine, your voice quiet.

Megumi chuckles, lifting his head to peer up at you, pupils blown wide, “am I going to slow for you, pretty girl?”

You bite your lip, “mhm.”

Megumi lifts his thigh, pressing it between your legs to where you desperately want him. You whine when he presses his strong thigh against your clothed heat, your skirt bunching up at your waist. Your skin feels hot and you feel a wetness pooling in your panties, making your face flush with embarrassment at your own neediness.

“I’ve thought about this,” Megumi whispers, pulling your bra cup down, his large hand cupping your plush breast. “A lot.”

You moan softly, your nipples hardening under the cold chill of the air in his room.

“Thought about what you’d sound like.”

He lowers his head slightly, pressing long, wet kisses to your pretty nipples. Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him down and forcing him to nip and suck at the soft skin.

“Thought about how you’d look.”

You roll your hips involuntarily against his strong thigh, feeling the friction against your poor little clit. You moan underneath him, your heart racing as he lowers his head to kiss down your tummy to the hem of your skirt.

“Thought about how you’d taste.”

You suddenly let out a surprised gasp when Megumi pulls your lower body off the bed, your hands curling into his bedsheets for support. You peer down at him, your heart in your throat at the sight of Megumi between your legs, his fingers curling underneath the waistband of your skirt and pulling.

He drops the material on the floor, his large hands curling underneath your thighs and pulling them apart, “w-wait, Gumi.”

He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “what is it, princess?”

“W-What are you doing?”

Megumi smiles against the inside of your thigh, “m’gonna eat your pretty pussy.”

Your hands curl into the sheets and you feel a glob of arousal seep from your cunt. If this is how fucked up he gets you just from kissing you, how the hell are you going to hold up with his tongue inside you?

“You okay with that?”

You nod your head quickly without thinking, a thin sheen of sweat already coating your skin. “P-Please–”

Megumi chuckles softly at how damn cute you are, his fingers hooking under the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs. They’re covered in your arousal, your pretty pussy glistening under the warm glow of the setting sun.

God he wishes he could take a picture.

“G-Gumi?” You peer down at him, “s-stop staring.”

Megumi pulls your thighs over his shoulders, his hair tickling the insides of your spread legs, “sorry, sweet girl, she’s just s’pretty.”

You let out an involuntary moan when he presses a kiss to your swollen clit, the sudden attention sending a jolt of pleasure through your tummy. You want to slam your thighs closed, your body desperate for friction. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whine. “Please–”

Megumi’s fingers curl into your thighs, pulling them apart further and forcing your pussy lips open to press the flat of his tongue against your awaiting clit. 

“M-Megumi–”

You throw your head back against the bed, one of your hands pressing against the back of his head, forcing him closer to your pussy. No one has ever touched you like this, no one has ever put their mouth on you, no one has ever seen your pretty pussy and you couldn’t think of anyone better than Megumi Fushiguro to be the one to tongue-fuck you right now.

“You ever masturbated, baby?”

You whine, “a-are you teasing me or something?”

He smiles against your clit, tongue dipping down to lap up your slick, “maybe a little. I just wanna know if you’ve ever had something inside you.” His thumbs spread you open, his tongue flicking against your clit and making you whine even louder. “Shh, baby, we have neighbours.”

You don’t give a fuck right now.

“I’ve masturbated b-before,” you say after a hard huff, you feel fucking breathless.

“Oh, yeah?” Megumi presses his tongue against your little hole, lewdly slurping up the insane amount of arousal leaking from you. “You should show me.”

“No!” you whine, “so embarrassing.”

“I think it’d be hot,” the tip of his middle finger presses against your hole. “Maybe some other time.”

You cry out, hands gripping the sheets when Megumi presses the tip of his middle finger into your cunt. His fingers are thicker than yours and you can only imagine so much longer, able to press against parts of you you’ve never reached before. 

“Gumi–” you pant, “m-more.”

“More?” He raises a brow at you.

“Please, please–”

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up!” you whimper, “js’ touch me–” Megumi can’t deny you, not when you sound so fucking gorgeous and you taste like fucking heaven. 

He presses his finger into you, twisting his hand around and curling his finger inside you. You want to cry, your eyes screwed shut and your belly burning. He fucks his finger into you slowly, his tongue lapping and sucking your clit while your thighs press against his head.

“Gonna add another one, okay, baby?”

You nod your head desperately and he smiles cheekily, pressing a second finger into you to stretch you open. You throw your head back at the delicious stretch, your slick coating Megumi’s fingers and dripping down his wrist.

Megumi feels your thighs pressing together harder and he forces your thigh down with his free hand, your knee almost hitting your chest with how he pins it down. He’s spreading you open, tongue flicking against your clit and fingers curling against your gummy walls.

“Gumi– m’gonna–” you feel your tummy burn and you’re so fucking embarrassed that you’re about to cum from just having two fingers inside you. You start to pant, hands tangling in his hair as lewd slurping and squelches fill his room.

“S’okay, baby. Cum on my mouth,” he groans against you, his cock rock hard from feeling your hips grind against his face. You might be a virgin but your body knows what it wants as you rut against his tongue and your legs shake.

Megumi suddenly shakes his head over your clit, his mouth covered in your slick and you just cum. It crashes into you like a fucking train and you whine and moan against the back of your hand as Megumi fucks his fingers into your sopping cunt, your hole spasming and clenching down on his fingers.

He scissors and curls his fingers inside you, fucking you through your orgasm and feeling a sense of pride but also getting a huge fucking ego boost that he’s the first man to ever make you cum.

Your chest is heaving up and down, your vision cloudy and your mind feeling fuzzy as you come back down from your high. Megumi pulls his fingers out of you, kissing the inside of your thigh and lapping up the mess you made all over yourself.

You sit up on your elbows, face flushed and hair dishevelled as you peer down at Megumi. You suddenly feel immensely embarrassed that he was just between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit and his fingers deep inside you.

“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined,” Megumi licks his fingers clean while holding eye contact with you. 

You whine and flop back onto the bed, earning a soft chuckle from Megumi as he gets to his feet, attempting to find a towel or old shirt somewhere.

“Where are you going?” You ask timidly.

“M’gonna clean you up, don’t worry, I won’t go,” he replies, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“But…” your eyes flicker to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Hm?” He follows your gaze. “Oh, m’okay, princess. It’s not about me anyway.”

“But, I want to–”

“S’okay, Y/N,” he lifts your hand, kissing your knuckles softly, “you can try some other time.”

“...Do you not want to?”

He grins, “course I want to.”

“Then let me,” you whine, pulling him closer to you. “Please.”

Megumi ponders it for a moment. He doesn’t want to frighten you and he’s so fucking scared of losing control and just bending you over and fucking your brains out. But the way you look at him with your pretty wide eyes and your hands gripping his thighs as he stands between your legs– 

How could he say no?

“You want to, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay… we’ll go slow,” he urges, petting your hair gently. 

You’re so fucking eager to please him that it makes him weak. Your post-orgasm body is shaky as you reach for the zipper of his pants, your fingertips grazing against the sensitive bulge. He groans softly, hand petting your head as he lets you figure it out, slowly unzipping his pants and pulling them down a little.

There’s a dark wet patch on his boxers, he’s so fucking turned on by your pretty sounds and your intoxicating taste that his cock is leaking and begging for attention.

“S’big,” you whisper, eyes widening.

And he hasn’t even pulled his cock out of his boxers.

He chuckles, “you flatter me, pretty.”

“N-No, really,” your pretty eyes meet his. “Is it gonna fit in my mouth?”

Holy fucking shit. 

He was thinking you were just going to give him a handjob and now you’re asking if he can fit in your mouth.

Megumi runs a hand through his hair, “fuck you drive me crazy.”

“I-I thought you wanted me to–”

“Baby. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Your eyes blow wide and you just about sparkle with anticipation, “then… can I suck your dick?”

Someone kill him and put him to rest because you’re about to be the death of him.

“Fuck yeah you can, baby.”

Megumi has to help you pull his cock from his boxers and your eyes just about bulge out of your head at the size of him. He’s long and thick and the tip is a pretty pink colour. It’s heavy too, almost too heavy to hold itself up.

He sits down on the bed and you get on your knees in front of him. He strips his hoodie off, his abs flexing as he leans back on his elbows, just watching you.

You bite your lip, suddenly intimidated.

“S’okay… just take it slow.”

You nod your head before your hand wraps around the base. Megumi suddenly groans and you pull away with a fright, “s-sorry!”

“No, no, baby–” he chuckles breathily. “Js’ a lot to take in having a pretty girl with her hands on my cock.”

You look away shyly and Megumi laughs, reaching out to cup your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. He sits up, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. You taste the remains of your orgasm on his tongue, pressing your thighs together as you feel yourself become a little aroused again.

He kisses you deeper, reaching his free hand out to cup your own, guiding you toward his hard neglected cock. “You can touch me, baby.”

Your hand wraps around the base and you squeeze softly, earning a groan from your pretty roommate. He guides your hand up and down and it’s painfully fucking slow but he’s just happy to have your hands on him.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs. “Doin’ so good.”

You beam at the praise, pressing your thumb against the leaky slit of his pretty cock head. Megumi groans, leaning back on his elbows and tipping his head back. You continue the motion, eyes gleaming with pride and innocence as you just watch him fuck your hand.

His hips jerk up, his cock pulsing in your hand.

You suddenly feel the urge to press your lips to his tip and when you do, Megumi nearly cums like a fucking teenager. 

“F-Fuck,” he grunts, his hand unintentionally pulling your hair, forcing out a pretty moan from your lips. 

You take the tip in your mouth, your tongue flattening against the head. You wonder if you’re doing it right but the way Megumi groans and his hand pushes your head further down his length, you think you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Such a good girl,” Megumi sighs, “feels s’good.”

You moan at the praise, taking a little more of his length down your throat. Your hands are squeezing his thighs, nails scraping against the taut skin and Megumi is doing everything in his power to not fuck his cock down your throat.

You start to drool, saliva slipping down your chin and coating his pretty cock. You suddenly gag on his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

“F-Fuck,” Megumi feels his cock twitch at the cute fucking sounds you’re making. Your eyes are glassy, and you’ve got drool dripping down your chin and your cheeks are flushed so pretty. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

You pump the base of his cock, your tongue clumsily swirling around his tip, eyes glued to him as you watch for his reactions. Megumi suddenly sucks in a breath and pulls your mouth off his tip with a quiet pop! quickly pumping his cock.

Hot ropes of sticky cum spill across your lips and face, Megumi tipping his head back with a deep groan, squeezing the base of his cock as it twitches and jumps.

“Fuck– you sure you’ve never sucked dick before– Oh, fuck.”

Megumi’s eyes dilate at the sight of his cum painting your pretty little face, your fingers swiping at the ropes of cum before you push them into your mouth, tasting him. 

“I do good?”

Megumi laughs breathlessly, “you did so good, baby girl.”

Megumi is quick to clean you up, using an old shirt to wipe the cum off your face while you sit there all pretty on your knees in front of him. He presses kisses to your face and your hair before pulling you into bed beside him, his fingertips tracing over your shoulder as you lay your head on his chest.

“You mean what you said?”

“Hm?”

“You like me?” You ask sweetly, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

Megumi sits up a bit, “I like-like you.”

“Wow. That’s a big call, Fushiguro.”

Megumi chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “remember it’s Megumi.”

“Gumi?”

“I like that too.”

“Mm, Megs?”

“Don’t push it.”

You giggle softly, curling into his side with a wide smile.

Megumi takes you to work and campus every day after that night, his hand always in yours when he walks you to class and he likes to pretend it annoys him how you wrap your hand around his arm and how you squeal his name when you see him after class.

When in reality, Megumi couldn’t be happier. In a twisted way, he’s glad you asked him if he hated you, because he was able to summon the courage to tell you the truth.

That he didn’t hate you. Not even a little.

author's note: the way i been pulling all nighters for DAYS. i was about to kill these two I TELL YOU JUST MAKE OUT PLS I CANT–

taglist: @starpachinko @2ukika @sukunabish @somethinglikero @wannabewolf @milliex01x @princessa143 @hrithi11 @katsukita69 @slayzzz @arcanefeelings @shirabu-k @izzzzzzig @zah2890 @evergumi @aerareads @flashilyquinn @raedollsstuff @happylildeath @anormieee @l1v1ngzomb1e @kimkimoruo @sunnyf4lls @saekolust @kalulakunundrum @xastoriaaurax @feliaeae @sleepyxzn @mahazsine

[menolly5600]

ETA fifteen minutes is the family part of the code.

Estimated Time till Adoption: fifteen minutes.

East-West probably indicates an End of the World situation.

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[lvrclerc]

✶ BETTER THAN THE NOVELS

summary: you're a romance novel influencer that has never actually experienced romance. ironic, right? and when f1 driver lando norris accidentally becomes a constant presence in your life, he decides he can't possibly let that slide.

F1 MASTERLIST | LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: lando norrisﾉf!reader

wc: 11.2k

cw: reader is a ferrari fan and is said to wear feminine clothing (dresses, skirts etc), reader has a race taking place in her home country but it's not precised where, takes place during a fictional season (w the 2025 grid), cussing, inspired by nick and cassie on tiktok, slight angst near the end for plot reason, otherwise just tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: first fic who cheered! this is so self-indulgent and cliché but who caresss also its a long one so buckle up (editing was hell, ending is a bit rushed too sorry)

THERE WAS NOT ONE day in which @.whoisy/n, book influencer extraordinaire, did not pass her day with her head inside a romance novel.

You always liked reading. The passion struck you in late primary school when you first opened Percy Jackson and before you knew it, you finished the entire series in three days and begged your parents to buy you Heroes of Olympus. There was no going back after that. You couldn’t spend a day without your thirty minutes to an-hour reading session.

Like every girl raised with the idea of being a strong, independent female lead in the novel that was your life ─ at the sweet age of thirteen, dare I be precise ─ you never dabbled too much into romance. If it ended in a book you were currently reading, so be it, but you wouldn’t outwardly enjoy it. Why would you need someone in your life? You were so not like the other girls, you didn’t waste your time on boys or parties or things like that ─ you didn’t even wear pink!

Except that now that you have grown up, at the age of twenty-two, you liked wearing pink and bows, and because you spent most of your life buried in books with this idiotic, sexist idea of the “not-like-other-girls”, you never had kissed or dated anyone. Damn Rick Riordan.

I mean, you went on dates, sure, but they never went anywhere further than a “that was fun!” text and radio silence right after. It made you feel used, sometimes, but at that point, it was just something you expected whenever you took an interest in an individual.

The only thing that stuck with you as you got older was your passion for books. So after you resigned yourself to it, you dived into romances. Bad idea, really, because you started living vicariously through them.

Everything was so perfect: the storylines, the female leads, the guys and the girls and what they whispered into the other’s ear, and when they noticed small things nobody else would’ve noticed, proclaimed their love high and loud in heartfelt speeches, the awkwardness of a first love and the tenderness of a first kiss. A part of you, whenever you tapped your Kindle or rushed through the pages, ached a little in the middle of your incessant giggling. Something that yearned for a story like that - but you’ve learned against your will that nothing in the real world could compare to the stories or the movies.

You were doomed to die an old maid with many, many cats and a thousand bookshelves. It didn’t sound that bad, of course, but come on. You still held hope that maybe, one day, something like that would happen to you. Maybe.

One of your favorite subgenres was sports romance. There was something so romantic about running into someone’s arms after a well-spent game ─ you devoured the hockey ones, the basketball ones, even the football ones. More recently, though, you got into the motorsports ones ─ more specifically, Formula One.

There weren’t many, mainly because of the work that had to be done to dodge plagiarism: you couldn’t use the actual drivers or team, so you had to reinvent everything down to every detail. But for those that existed, you simply couldn’t let them go. You liked Formula One, it wasn’t a proper passion like reading was but it still was a nice pastime: you’d turn on your sketchy website that streamed F1 TV Pro to watch the Grand Prix and became impatient during the overly long summer and winter breaks. While you were more partial to drivers than to teams, you grew very fond of Ferrari as the years went by.

You were very vocal about your interests in your accounts. Obsessing so much over books gave you access to fandoms at a young age and a desire to have your own space within them. You quickly became a staple presence on BookTok, BookStagram, and BookTube after your first posts and videos went public. People found you funny, endearing, and relatable… not to throw yourself flowers, but you were. It’s that transparency about your Sahara-desert dry love life and your contagious excitement about your hobbies that made you so popular, reaching millions around multiple platforms.

People liked you, so people were kind to you. An advanced reader copy of a new F1 romance novel was on another level of kindness, though.

You hadn’t expected it, but it came in your mailbox with a sweet written word from the author, Leandra Moore ─ she was pretty influential and had written multiple New York Times-acclaimed New Adult romances. You didn’t even process everything she was saying, only that she liked your videos and your personality and ‘thought you might like her new work’.

What a stupid question. Of course, you did.

You devoured the 430 pages in a sitting. The sky, awfully bright when you got the package, was pitch black by the time you turned the last page. You were breathless, flushed, and smiling so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “Silver Spring Race” was a wonder of brother’s best friend, secret exes, and second chance rom-com goodness, mixed with the adrenaline of the perfect F1 season, five out of five stars on Fable and GoodReads. You didn't waste any time: tripod, lighting, and you were already filming a review video in your almost ecstatic state, giggling away with the camera knowing full well you were sharing with a few thousand.

It was a simple review as you always did. Yet, it did way, way better than your normal videos ─ so much so that the book had to be released early. So much so that Leandra had the means to host a release party after the goddamn Miami Grand Prix. So much so that she invited you, personally and free of charge, as multiple other book influencers to attend the Grand Prix and the release party the day after.

Someone had to pinch you because holy shit, this couldn’t be your reality. You never confirmed something as fast as you did for that. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

The race had been an exceptionally good one. The sun was bright and hot but the slight breeze made up for the extreme Miami heat. You and your book influencer friends and acquaintances had amazing seats at the Beach Grandstands - some on the North and some on the South. You quietly wondered just how much money did Silver Spring Race generated for Leandra to get those sought-after seats.

There had been a few technical difficulties during the race, causing Pierre Gasly to DNF, and a narrowly avoided crash on Albon's part which cost him to lose standing. Ferrari was going strong, though, which kept you breathless from screaming until the checkered flag. Norris ended in pole position, with Verstappen following suit in P2 and Leclerc in P3. While it was not the outcome you hoped for due to your bias toward the latter's team, you had to cheer when faced with the radiant smile of the first-placed.

Now, the thing was to get out of the stands. That was a harder task, the Beach Grandstands were filled to the brim and before you could process what was happening, the flow of people separated you from your friends. No matter how much you fought against the current you couldn't help but be brought down to wherever they were going: guess you'll have to find a way out by yourself.

By the time people scattered, you were in an unknown setting with multiple staff members, all wearing different colors ─ pink, orange, red ─ and running around. You would have liked to stop one of them to ask where you were, or at least how you could access the parking area from here, but all passed you as if you didn't exist. You couldn't blame them, the Grand Prix had just ended, and they probably had ten thousand other things to do. You were on your own. Great.

You just wandered off and hoped you'd stumble upon a miraculous exit sign amidst the long and confusing hallways.

You definitely didn't expect to crash into Lando Norris.

You didn't realize it was him at first. The only thing you knew was that as you were looking around, finally finding somewhere open from where you could see the stands (but still not anywhere that looked like it could lead you to the parking lot), you back bumped full speed against someone.

You turned around, heart skipping because of the shock. Soon enough, though, your astonishment turned horrific when you gradually noticed the full can of Monster energy drink spilled on an orange tracksuit, staining it deep brown.

It couldn't get any more embarrassing. Until your eyes darted up and you saw a mess of curls and wide, green eyes. That's when your horror became panic. Holy fuck, you didn't just─

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, after a few seconds of stunned silence. “I'm so, so sorry─ I didn't─ I was looking for the exit and I didn't see─ holy shit─”

You started aggressively looking in your small handbag, hoping─ no, praying, you brought some tissues with you. You spilled an energy drink on Lando Norris. His energy drink. Lando Norris was in front of you, staring at you like you were some wild, erratic animal. He was probably furious. You wanted to bury yourself six feet deep underground. “I'm sorry, I can't find any tissues I─”

He snorted.

You froze in your tracks, interrupting your rambling. A glimmer of amusement shone in the driver's eyes. “It's chill, don't even worry about it. It's not as if that was like, the only suit I owned.”

“Uh─” you started. “I'm still─”

There was something about your expression, maybe the fact you were opening and closing your mouth searching for something to say like a fish out of the water, that made him reiterate. “Really, it's cool. You can stop panicking.” After a pause, he continued, in a more reassuring tone. “Plus I'm already all sweaty and dirty, so not much of a difference.”

He was…? Heat furiously rose up to your cheeks and you couldn't tell if it was because of embarrassment or his words or how painfully aware you were of the situation. “What?”

This time, Lando's face was graced with a shit-eating grin aimed right at you. “From racing and champagne, you know.”

Oh.

Now you wanted to be five feet under. What was wrong with you? “Right.” You took a deep breath. You bump into Lando Norris, an F1 driver you admired for years no matter your loyalty to Ferrari, and spill an entire energy drink on him before accidentally stepping right into borderline sexual harassment. Get a grip, Y/N. “I saw. I mean, I was in the stands. Beach Grandstands. I saw you. Win the race. Congratulations, by the way!”

You sounded like a robot. Oh my god. You couldn't act less natural even if you tried.

Lando arched an eyebrow. “Thanks a lot. But uh, if you were in the stands─ what are you doing in staff quarters?”

Your heart lurched in your chest, realizing the impression you probably gave. “Shit. I promise I'm not a weird fan or anything, I'm not a stalker! Which is definitely what a stalker would say. But I'm not. I was dragged by the mass of people and I couldn't find the exit and nobody would tell me─”

Another laugh from him interrupted you and what surprised you was the absence of mockery: he sounded genuinely amused. You didn't know how to react to the fact he found your distress funny. “Are you always this anxious?”

“See, this whole…,” you made a circular hand gesture, “... situation is not helping my anxiety. So the answer would be maybe.”

Lando chuckled again and this time, an awkward smile found its way to your lips. “I wasn't trying to blame you, it was just a question. You can breathe. But the exit's not there.”

“Yeah, I think I noticed,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It's through there,” Lando turned around and pointed to a slightly hidden door, but right above was a bright green exit sign. You were blind. “You just go straight and the parking lot shouldn't be that far.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks. I didn't see it,” you simply answered. Dusting off invisible dust from your clothes, you looked at him again. “Again, I'm sorry about the drink. Really.”

“I told you it's nothing, just go before a team member calls security on you, ‘aight?”

You aggressively nodded, which stole another breathless laugh from him that you decided to ignore. Right as you went through the door, the curly-haired driver called: “Hey!” You turned around, frowning in incomprehension.

“Next time you decide to sneak into McLaren's quarters,” Lando said, “at least wear the right colors.”

You quickly glanced at your Ferrari shirt, slightly cropped to go with your jean skirt. That's when the words echoed in your brain. “I wasn't sneaki─!”

Before you could finish your argument, he closed the door on you.

Walking back to your car, the realization of everything that went down the last 10 minutes slowly dawned on you. What the fuck had just happened? Was it real? Did you hallucinate? Did you just humiliate yourself like that in front of Lando Norris?

Most importantly: novels made meet-cutes seem so simple and easy, how did you manage to mess it up that bad?

A day later, you tried to push that interaction to the back of your mind, mainly because of how embarrassed you were about how you acted but also because otherwise, you wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

Once the night had comfortably settled, you confidently walked into the venue Leandra rented. It was an immense room in an even bigger hall, and so elegant you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. You guessed that’s what you were supposed to expect when you partied at the same place the drivers usually did ─ at least that's what one of the girls told you: it was where they would throw after-parties when they had time after races. Fits the theme, you thought.

The decor was tasteful and themed in a way that didn't feel cheap, which was surprisingly hard to do, as you discovered as you mingled with Leandra Moore and her entourage. The buffet was delicious, the champagne was flowing, and there were professional photographers and signed illustrations of the two main characters of Silver Spring Race, along with a Fairyloot exclusive edition of the book. You could have died right here and there: the details were to die for.

Right as the music was getting louder, the conversations grew more deconstructed and the alcohol less diluted, you decided to step out for some fresh air ─ as much fun as it was, being socially involved for so long was tiring you out. If you wanted to last the night, you needed a little break.

The exit was notoriously hard to find, which gave you war flashbacks from yesterday you had a hard time pushing away, but you didn't spend as long finding it ─ just enough to regret the aesthetic choice of wearing high heels for the night.

By the time you got outside, your feet were aching for freedom. You quickly rushed to the stone stairs leading to the party hall and sat on the first step. The scenery was quite stunning: a fountain throned in the middle of the place leading to stairs, lightly illuminated by the white neons in the water and the warm hall light, and tall trees surrounding the square. You could have probably appreciated it more if you weren't so preoccupied with detaching those fucking straps of your ankles: why weren't they coming off, those little─

“Oof, looks like you need help again.”

Your hand froze on your shoe as the voice and accent hit a familiar spot in your brain. It took you a second to catch up, and around a minute to realize. Your heart dropped and you turned around, slowly, like the main character in a horror movie.

Lando Norris stood before you. Again.

Who exactly was controlling your life? Because the odds of this happening a second time were really, really low.

His hair was usually messy, and yet tonight they seemed more contained and professional. He wore a white shirt, and a few buttons popped open at the collar gave you an open view of a small gold chain around his neck ─ you had to drag your gaze away. Straight-legged black pants finished the look, topped off with black loafers. He looked miles away from the Lando Norris you accidentally ran into after the race. He probably showered.

He looked gorgeous, too. It would be a blatant lie to even ignore it, and that realization slightly took your breath away.

Yet, the only thing coming out of your mouth was a strangled, “I swear I'm not stalking you.”

A pause. You had serious issues.

And still, Lando laughed. Hard and loud, like the ones you saw in a few selected interviews when you were bored and scrolling on YouTube during the breaks. It made you feel slightly self-conscious. He breathed in as he walked toward you, a chuckle still in his tone when he spoke up. “I mean, I'd believe you this time but the coincidence's pretty big.”

An offended scoff escaped you and suddenly, all the thoughts about him being a celebrity, a renowned driver, a trust fund kid flew out the window right into the fountain. 

“I'll let you know I was invited to an event here, thank you very much. I have other, more important things to do than follow someone around.”

When you realized what you said, your eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn't mean─”

But Lando was smiling.

“Nah, you did.” Right now, he stood right next to you on the stairs and you quietly wondered if he was going to sit down or keep looking down on you like that. Then you realized that you were, again, in the most improbable situation known to man. Anxiety swirled in your stomach.

“Soo… what event are you attending?”

You squinted your eyes up at him. “...Is this an interrogation?”

Lando simply shrugged. “Can never be too sure.”

Well, you couldn't blame him for that.

“A book release party. The author, Leandra Moore, happened to invite me and other people. She was the one that got us tickets for the race yesterday, too. I just went out to get some fresh air.”

He hummed in response. “Oh yeah, heard something about that. I guess you're legit, then.”

“Yes, I am!” When you looked up again, there was that shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes to the high heavens.

“... Wait. Is your name Y/N?” He suddenly asked.

Huh?

You never mentioned your name to him. You don't think it was even brought up in the 15 minutes you two talked. A frown scrunched up your eyebrows. “Uh, yes? How'd you know?” Silence. “And I'm the stalker?”

Lando laughed a bit at that. He finally sat down next to you, and the heat of his exposed forearms somewhat close to your own made you panic again.

“Y/N as in WhoisY/N?”

The gasp you let out could have landed you a role in The Young and the Restless. There was no fucking way. Absolutely none. This is where you drew the line. “You can't possibly be watching my videos.” Your tone was resolute.

“Nah, not me. My little sister though, Cisca.” That made more sense than to imagine Lando Norris, McLaren's golden boy, giggling and kicking his feet in front of your last romance review. Still, it felt unreal. “She eats up every single one of your posts. You’re the reason why we have so many cartoon covers at home, that's why I thought you looked familiar at first. The book release party confirmed it.”

You didn't know what emotions you should let transpire first. The fact that you were a celebrity in the Norris family was enough to make your jaw drop, but the mention of cartoon covers added heat to your cheeks ─ you hoped he never opened his sister's books.

“She's so gonna freak out when I tell her I met you,” he said between laughs.

“She's going to freak out?” You asked in disbelief. “You're in Formula 1. She can't freak out because of me. I'm freaking out because of you!”

He didn't point out your statement, thank god, but his eyes didn't seem to miss it. “I'm her older brother, she uses that to make fun of me now. But no, definitely, she's going to freak out.”

“What even is my life right now.”

That, at least, made you both erupt in an unstoppable fit of laughter. When it died down, you finally had the space to ask the question sitting in your mind since he appeared behind you. “What are you even doing here?”

Lando arched an eyebrow at you. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Yes.”

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, clearly mimicking you. “There's a race after party in the hall. McLaren special. Also went out to get some air, DJ-ing was becoming suffocating.”

“Oh,” it clicked, and you started thinking out loud. “I guess the girls weren't lying when they said that's where the drivers partied. It makes sense Leandra would rent out this hall.”

“Why?”

You were pretty sure smoke could be escaping from you right now just by how flustered you were. “Uh. For promoting her book?”

“Yeah, I got that, but like… why would our parties have anything to do with it?”

Lando was becoming suspicious again. Somebody kill you right now. How do you keep messing it up? “Because… it's… an F1 romance?”

Blank stare. You were just as red as the dress you wore and ready to go home to cry yourself to sleep. Then he laughed, hysterically, and you couldn't feel more ashamed.

“That exists?” He asked, breathless.

You turned your face away from him. “Yes.”

“And you read that?”

“Leave me alone,” you added, “if she follows me, your sister does too.”

That seemed to make him stop, at least, to your devious satisfaction. “I think I'll need to take a look at her shelves when I go home.”

“For the good of the girl and mine, please don't.”

The cold night breeze brushed your arms and you were now very mindful of how thin the material of your dress was. You shivered, rubbing your arms with your hands. Lando was quick to notice. “Shit, sorry. I don't have a jacket. I would have landed it to you otherwise.”

You don't know what came over you, but you bumped your shoulder with his. “Wow, that was almost gentleman-like.” Where did this familiarity come from, you didn't know ─ you have known the man for no longer than an hour. But there was something about the easy-going conversation, the late night, and the champagne buzzing in your blood that made this scene… just like the ones you read about, in your favorite books.

As soon as that idea slithered into your mind, you forcefully pushed it out. That was another level of delusion, Y/N. Those novels fried your brain.

You got up before Lando could answer. “It's fine, I was going to go back to my hotel anyway. The party drained my social battery and my flight takes off early tomorrow, so it's better if I go to sleep.”

“Okay, sure. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Oh shit. “... I don't have a car.”

He blinked slowly. “What do you mean? How'd you come here, then?”

“I carpooled with some girls who are not going home right now.” That was a very dumb idea now that you look back on it.

“So… how are you planning to get to your hotel?”

You didn't bring your wallet with you, so no chance of getting a taxi. “... I'll walk?”

“... Yeah, no. No chance. At night? Dressed like that?” He took you in, making you hyper-aware of the high slit and the almost sheer material of your dress. “I'll take you.”

You were stunned. So much for avoiding delusion or further embarrassment. “I can't possibly ask you─ I mean, you have a party─”

“If you think that after-party is going to end anytime soon, you're so wrong,” he chuckled.

In all honesty, you could have argued more, but Lando already seemed settled on his decision. He stood up, not before grabbing the heels you took off during the conversation and decidedly headed toward the parking lot. You hummed and followed suit as he started walking toward his car, your comments dying on your tongue. The improbability of what was currently happening was just too much for you to grace it with a thought, so a sentence would be crossing the limits.

The car ride was spent in comfortable silence as soon as you typed the address of your hotel in his GPS. Your eyes widened when his car came into view: a black 2018 McLaren Senna, with red accents, you hadn't seen so beautiful with your own eyes in a while. You had to bite back a gasp when you got in.

Lando rolled the windows fully down. The wind whipped strands of hair around as you watched the scenery roll by at a dizzying speed, making you wonder if he knew what a speed limit was. Soft bass music played on the radio, one you didn't know the lyrics to, but Lando did as he whispered-sang them. He looked calm behind a wheel that didn't belong to a Formula One car, the contrast was drastic. The driver met your eyes with a smile, and that was only then you realized you'd been staring. You turned your head as he laughed.

When your hotel came into view, you quietly thanked him for dropping you off and stepped out of the car. You didn't know what to do after that. Some part of you tugged at your mind ─ it was too good to be true, those things only happened in books. He was probably waiting for something in return. After a small wave to him, you were ready to disappear behind the doors and leave this night behind.

“Wait!” Lando called out from his opened window. Your stomach dropped. You knew it.

Hesitantly, you turned around.

“You're still wearing the wrong color,” he simply said, “I better see you in orange if you want my services next time.”

Relief washed over you and no matter how hard you fought it, a smile broke your carefully impassive facade. “Next time?”

Lando smiled at you. “Next time.”

And when he drove away, you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach either.

As you lay in bed that night, you didn't push anything away. You processed what happened, today and yesterday. You didn't know how to feel or what to feel exactly, many emotions were contradictory, but maybe it was alright ─ not to know. To just let yourself feel without having to put a name on it.

When you grabbed the phone in your handbag, an Instagram notification caught your attention before you could even unlock it.

@.lando started following you.

A disbelieving, loud laugh escaped you. He did say there would be a next time.

After that it was safe to say, even though a little wild, Lando Norris had become a staple in your daily life.

The moment you got back home, you had received a DM by the driver himself asking if you traveled safely to which you couldn't help but reply with a “Stalker much?”. He simply answered that there was only a single flight going back to where you lived today, so it was easy to find on Skyscanner. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It made you smile.

The texts continued. What first started as small conversations every two days, reacting to each other's stories or silly tweets with not much depth behind them gradually grew, over a month, into useless life updates, every day with no exceptions.

lando: just ate the biggest fucking sandwich today

lando: [1 picture attached]

lando: scooby-doo type shit

whoisy/n: i'm so hungry actually

lando: did u get sidetracked reading again

whoisy/n: it's LITERALLY my job

lando: go get something to eat you muppet

whoisy/n: yessir

whoisy/n: u'll never guess what happened in my book

lando: he cheated on her right

whoisy/n: …

whoisy/n: you WILL guess what happened in my book

lando: LMAOOO that was so obvious from what you told me

whoisy/n: i had sm faith in him. men!!!

lando: they're all the same

whoisy/n: RITEEEEEE QUEEN

Lando always asked about what you were currently reading. It didn't take a genius or an Oxford diploma to notice how much you loved it, not when your entire social media presence was built around it. You knew it wasn't performative and he enjoyed hearing you talk about it ─ he often sent texts during the week asking about your favorite character, at what page you were, and if they kissed yet. It was harder during weekends due to races. Somehow, he still made time.

Similarly, Lando took the habit of sending you long vocals at the end of his days, explaining what happened, what Oscar and him were up to, and how annoying the different media were. He still refused to tell you much about his team, because your allegiance to Ferrari was simply “outrageous” according to him. You gladly landed a listening ear, chiming with a helping comment whenever you could. The late evenings got later and the vocals longer and longer each passing week, and before you knew it you two were calling almost every night.

It was a normal occurrence. He would get ready for bed and you would drop your Kindle for an hour or two, even longer the rare times he didn't have anything planned the next day. You would talk about anything and everything at the same time ─ sometimes he'd rope you into downloading a game and playing it with him, sometimes you'd just remodel the world until one of you was too exhausted to keep playing God. Most of the time, it was Lando.

Due to its sudden start, this growing friendship of yours quickly attracted the attention of your entire following base as well as his. Lando commented on almost all your new Instagram posts and TikToks with random things that either had a link with what you were talking about or none at all ─ most often alluding to the many inside jokes that stemmed from your conversations. Every interaction succeeded in making everyone crazy, especially your followers: apparently, you were finally getting the sports romance you were dreaming about for years.

The thought crossed your mind, how could it not with the amount of allusions under your posts? The fan edits on your For You page? But you never let yourself linger on it for too long.

You and Lando were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

The call you got that night was unexpected. Tomorrow was race day, the Canadian Grand Prix more specifically ─ and Lando never called before a race. You understood perfectly, something about being well rested and focused, so you usually sent a good luck paragraph he'd read in the morning and answer after the event. So why did his caller ID light up your phone screen as you were getting ready to go to bed, you didn't know. 

You picked up without a second thought. “Everything's alright?”

“What happened to hello?” He chuckled, his voice grainy through the speaker.

“My God,” you sighed. “Hello, Lando. Is everything alright?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“You never call before race day.”

Silence. “Hello?” You called. “You're still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, it's just─ your books are so unrealistic.”

Your heart skipped a bit, and you sat a little straighter against your pillow. “What?”

“I couldn't sleep and I didn't have anything to do, so I picked up one of your F1 romances you recommended in your last video─” No. No, he didn't. “Throttled? By Lauren Asher? And I just─ it's so dumb.”

Your mouth dropped open and instead of letting out words, a small screech left your lips. “You─ you read─? Why?”

“Like I said, I couldn't sleep. Whatever, it's─”

“Embarrassing!” You interrupted Lando. “You read one of my─ oh my god. This is not the family-friendly kind either. And it's F1. Next time just punch me in the face, I’ll be less humiliated.”

A wheeze came from the other side of the phone. You buried your head in your pillows, trying to put out the fire in your face. “Oh yeah, definitely not family-friendly.”

You groaned in response but that didn't stop Lando from continuing. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, it got most of the sport right but otherwise it's so… it took all the competitiveness out! That's, like, the entire point of F1! I thought you were a fan, how can you willingly enjoy that?”

“I mean, I know it's not the most accurate representation of F1,” you flopped on your back, “but it's kinda like Drive To Survive, y'know? Most people watch it for the drama. I read those for the romance plot.”

Lando scoffed at your words. “Even the romance plot isn't that good, Y/N. The whole part in which he throws a race to make her happy? That's such bullshit.”

“How so?”

“If you love her, you win a race for her.”

You couldn't put the words on it once again, but the way he said it constricted your chest with such tightness you had to take a long, calming breath. You had to concentrate to get out your next sentence. “Well, I don't know, it's not like I know anything about romance. I thought that was pretty romantic.”

“What do you mean, ‘don't know anything about romance'? You read this shit all day long.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but that's not the real thing. I've never actually dated or kissed anyone, so actual romantic gestures are like… foreign languages to me.”

A beat. Until you suddenly heard a mess of covers moving around, reverberating right in your eardrums. You hissed, and Lando spoke up again.

“You've never kissed anyone? Or dated?” He sounded stunned, which surprised you. It's not like you've tried to hide it. It grew to be your brand over time.

“Uh, yeah. Never.”

“You're shitting me.”

“No?”

“I can't believe it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, jeez, thank you for making me feel so great about being a twenty-two years old virgin, Lando.”

“No! No! I didn't mean it like that,” he screamed at his speaker. “You're just… you're you. You’re too nervous for your own good, true, but your cheeks get darker when you laugh, you fiddle with your sleeves when you don’t know what to say, and you constantly hum songs when it’s too quiet for you. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're passionate, you're funny…” He got quiet before continuing. “I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you, that's all.”

Oh. Oh.

The fluttering in your stomach flew its way up to your throat, and for a little moment, you thought you were going to throw up. The silence stretched as you basked in Lando's words, left hanging in the thick air. Suddenly the screen didn't seem like enough space between the two of you.

Lando ended up breaking the stillness. “I just─ I think I should hang up. The race's tomorrow and it's getting─” A pause. You glanced at the time: 00:23. “Shit, the race is today.”

“Don't worry. Go to sleep, get those hours in and win tomorrow,” you answered in a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do.”

Still, neither of you clicked on the red button. “Lando?”

“Mmh?”

“Thank you. For what you said.”

“... I meant it.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He hung up.

You desperately tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning, fighting with your pillow and covers to get comfortable but the only thing your mind could focus on was the end sentence he uttered, the inflections of his voice a ghostly whisper in your ear. I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you.

How did you successfully act as if that call never happened? You didn't know. You never were a good liar, less of a good actress. Maybe it was the way Lando carefully sidestepped the subject every time you nearly alluded to it that made you so good about ignoring it altogether.

It was nothing. You just blew it out of proportion, like you usually did. Maybe you should try self-help books instead of romances for the next few months.

No matter how bittersweet your feelings were about this whole situation, you chose to put them aside, simply because Lando had two free weeks starting today and he chose to put a few of his days aside to fly out to your town. For the first time in almost three months, you were going to see each other face to face. And under normal circumstances! That would be a first.

When he came out of the airport, with a gigantic suitcase for just a few days and his characteristic grin adorning his lips, all questions just vanished into thin air. You resisted the urge to jump into his arms but you didn't miss how tight Lando held you when he initiated the hug ─ you melted into him like snow in the sun.

Lando had rented a hotel room for his short stay, a good thirty minutes ride from you. He used it once before you both silently declared your home was way better than a five-star Hilton. He squatted on your couch and you'd sleep in your bed, the rare times you slept as most nights were spent playing video games and marathoning movies. Most of them were romantic comedies. Lando would complain about the lack of realism and you'd smack him over the head, and the movie would be watched in between snarky commentaries and heartfelt comments on your perception of love, sneaking glances at each other.

You tried not to let the latter get too much to your head.

However, Lando's trip had to end at some point. Too soon, it was the evening before his plane ride home and you were helping him gather the stuff he left all over the place ─ the state of your living room was deplorable, but you could cry about it tomorrow morning. In any case, you had to get ready since Lando established earlier there was no way in hell he was going to go back without going out at least once. You replied by saying you already went out a couple of times but according to him, visiting was not considered “going out.”

A good thirty minutes later, you crossed the threshold of your house, heels clacking on the pavement as you approached Lando. He was waiting next to your own car, black shirt half buttoned and messy curls hastily tamed. You had forced yourself not to stare too much ─ friendship established or not, you were still the same girl he found on the stairs in Miami and he was still undeniably beautiful. His eyes raked over you in silence, his lips parting slightly, and you found your normally confident walk faltering.

You hoped he thought of you just the same.

Then, breathlessly, “Wow.”

That's all it took for fire to flame up your face, drowning the blush you so carefully applied. You graced him with a little spin, which he applauded. “Well, you're not so bad yourself,” you added. Understatement of the year.

You walked to the driver's seat, but Lando's hand on the handle stopped you going further. “Nah, I'm driving tonight. I got a surprise for you.”

“What do you mean, surprise? Weren't we supposed to go to the movies?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“We watched, like, 30 movies and I've been there 5 days - I’m starting to overdose. Trust me and get in the passenger seat.”

“... You being so ominous is making it very hard to trust you, Lando.”

“I’m an F1 driver, I can drive your car.” He sounded offended you doubted him, even though you weren’t alluding to his driving skills at all. Still, the tone he employed when mentioning your car was almost offending you. Not everyone had a McLaren salary.  “I meant the surprise,” you clarified.

“Ah. Well. Have a little faith in me, c’mon.” On these words, he climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door on you. The audacity of that man, sometimes you couldn’t believe it. It didn’t leave you much choice than to take the seat next to him and watch the landscape go by. Quiet conversation was made as the sky tinged with dark, navy blue, and before you knew it Lando was parking in front of one of the most reputable ─ and expensive ─ restaurants in your town. It was safe to say you never put a foot in it before.

When you got out of the car, you almost jumped at him. “That’s your surprise?!” You whispered-exclaimed under his amused gaze. “You’re crazy. Downright mad.”

“I’m inviting you!” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to just indebt yourself by inviting a girl to dinner. The smile he flashed at you was a mix of hesitation and enthusiasm, so bright that any protests and remarks about how you just couldn’t let him pay died in your throat. Instead, you thanked to which Lando answered by giving you his arm. You took it and entered the restaurant.

You couldn’t describe the meal as anything but luxurious, whether it was taste-wise or the plate’s presentation. Your surroundings were gold plated and yet the only thing you could focus on was how hard Lando was trying to make you choke on your food ─ the jokes were flowing just as much as the wine in your glass, any awkwardness you may have felt stepping into this place disappeared into thin air as soon as Lando started occupying the conversational space, like he could sense how tense you were.

Before you could even look at the dessert, he stopped you. “We’ll skip that,” he said. You threw him a strange look. “I have another thing planned, just go with it.”

How many surprises were in store for you tonight? You didn’t know, and your Excel-spreadsheet-on-vacations self was getting panicky. But if there was one thing you learned with Lando was that your incessant worrying was needless, especially with him. You left after he took care of the bill, being very careful about not letting the numbers in your sight, and climbed back into the car. The sky was now an inky black and the air was lukewarm on your bare arms. Lando rolled the windows down like he usually did, but this time let you be in charge of the aux ─ considering it still was your vehicle. Frank Ocean’s “Moon River” resonated in between hushed giggles and the chime of the wind in your hair. Flashbacks of that fateful night, three months ago, crept through your memories. You still couldn’t believe what it had come to. 

You drove longer than you did before. This time, Lando parked on a cliff you had no idea existed, even though this was your town. And this time, when you got out of the car, your breath was taken away by just how many stars contrasted with the darkness of the night, the lights of the town too far away to blind them and instead joining them in a faraway source of light.

Marveling in front of the scenery stopped you from noticing Lando’s shenanigans behind you. He was awfully quiet, which wasn’t like him, so you turned around. 

You found him on the roof of your car. Literally. With plastic goblets, the half-empty bottle of wine you had at the restaurant, and ─ you weren’t joking ─ a plate of pancakes. Your jaw dropped open, nearly hitting the floor. “What? How─ huh?” No full sentence could come out of your mouth at this moment, no matter how hard you tried.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like pancakes,” he pleaded, “I woke up way too early to make them not be eaten.”

You thought you dreamt yourself climbing on the top of your car to sit next to him, but it was all very real: you were wholly stunned, which he seemed to notice. Sheepish, he prompted a proper explanation, “I just thought I should, uh, properly thank you. For letting me stay at your house and all. This seemed less impersonal than the restaurant.”

“You stole the wine,” was the only constatation you were able to get out, barely. Emotions constricted your throat too tightly for you to utter anything else.

He laughed. “Took it when you weren't looking. ‘S not like they're going to reuse it so I took care of the waste.”

“Such an ecologist soul,” you teased.

“They call me Father Nature at McLaren.”

“How'd you…” Words weren't coming out easily. Your eyes darted from the bottle, to the pancakes he probably woke up at an ungodly hour of the morning to make, and Lando ─ who was waiting for you to speak like you were his saving grace. Nobody ever looked at you like that, you thought, like you meant something more than what you were. “How'd you get this idea?”

Your question seemed to fluster him a little. He ran a hair through his curls, eyes darting to the side. “Uh, that's what he did. The male character in your book. Nothing Like The Movies I think? I thought that'd be something you like, y'know?”

Your heart thumped against your chest like it threatened to burst out of it. He read a romance novel, one of the most recent ones you reviewed. He took note of your favorite scene, in which Wes was supposed to take Liz to a restaurant but ended up eating on the roof of his car. He reproduced it.

For you.

“I…” There was a sentence threatening to spill out that you're not sure you quite mean yet, but you were feeling it so deeply it was hard to keep it in check. “I don't know what to say.”

“Then just eat the goddamn pancake before they get harder than they are. Turns out, they're not really durable.” It surprised a chuckle out of you.

The conversation carried on after that. The slow hum of Frank Ocean's discography escaping from the car made the perfect soundtrack to the vast discussions about racing, books, and life in general. The longer Lando and you went on, the quieter your voice got until they were reduced to a little more than a whisper, almost into each other's ears. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, your pinkie was intertwined with his, and the bottle was empty by the time the clock on your lock screen showed midnight.

“How did you even find this place?” You looked around once more, taking in the city lights, the tall trees, and the numerous stars above you.“I've been living here for years and I never knew you could get such a good view. Plus, it's not like you sneaked out during the night to scout places out. Unless?” You gasped exaggeratedly.

And there it was again, the pinkish tint at the end of his ears and the avoiding looks. “Nah, no sneaking out. I… I mean, what I did was─”

“You…?”

“I googled ‘date idea’ in your city and this is one of the places that came up.”

All of the sudden, the reality of the situation slapped you in the face. How Lando's thumb was lazily drawing circles on your hand, the romantic lyrics of the song playing from the car, the wine and the restaurant and how your eyes have been switching from his eyes to his lips a bit too often ever since you parked.

“Is this…?” You could kiss him right now. According to how transfixed he was by your mouth, you didn't think Lando would mind much.

You leaned in ever so slightly. He never answered your half-question, and even if he did you don't think you could have heard it through the hammering in your ribcage. However, his lips were but a brush of air against your own.

Because a goddamn flash stopped you.

You both jumped in surprise, the harsh light blinding you for a split second. The other half of it was enough to realize what you were faced with. Lando was the first to voice it, in more of a hiss than a sentence. “Fucking paparazzis.”

He got off the car in a jump, but a flurry of hurried footsteps told you that by the time he reached the spot the light came from, there would be no one left. You jumped off as well, dusting off your dress. “Lando?” You were shaking. Somehow, you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, panic, cold, or the brutal withdrawal of the high you were in not even a minute ago.

“The fuckers ran away.” His voice betrayed the palpable anger radiating off him. “I should’ve known. They’re always fucking there.”

The mood was gone, replaced by the static of the cold night air and the missing warmth of each other. By a silent, common agreement, you both cleaned up your car’s rooftop and climbed back in your seats soon after. The soft music was gone, the windows rolled up and Lando’s hands were tense on the wheel. When you got home, nothing more but a small “goodnight” was exchanged ─ apart from a glance, as you crossed your bedroom’s door, but it was too dark for you to interpret what it could mean.

When you woke up a few hours later, Lando was already gone.

You knew it was too good to be true. Things like that happened to the type of girls in the novels, not to you. But when Lando wouldn’t answer your texts, or carried on his vacations and his first Grand Prix back without a care in the world, you still couldn’t be asked to describe the terrible ache in your chest. You should have known.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around it ─ that all the late night calls, the comments, the texts, the rooftop of your car and the soft sweep of his breath on your lips was so easy to brush off for him. Not when it was the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ of what could have happened that night that kept you up for so many sleepless hours. It left you wondering if any of it was real: the friendship, the sweet words, and everything in between, or if you were just the new mystery girl to toy with and give up when it became too complicated.

The heartbreak and betrayal weren’t even the worst part of the situation. You didn’t expect the photo to come out as quickly as it did, after McLaren had a good PR team and would be able to at least intercept it, right? Wrong. It came out two days later. The picture was slightly blurry but clear enough so you could perfectly see your face and Lando’s, dangerously close to each other, and your hands intertwined together.

The flurry of comments, DMs, and interview requests sent to you after was unbelievable. Your community did the best it could to try and get the tabloids off your back, bless them, but all the other sides of the internet were either begging for more information or calling you names. Still, Lando and McLaren chose to ignore the whole situation. Swallowing your pride and deciding to take the high road, you did the same. You read romance books, you reviewed them, you exchanged a little bit with your followers on social media, you watched movies ─ you carried on with your day-to-day life, even if it was with a little less vehemence and a growing dislike for the romantic genre you adored.

It was the first year a Grand Prix would take place in your city. A brand new circuit, with brand new challenges. Taking place in the middle of the season, you were ecstatic when it was announced a few months back. Now, seeing people walking down your street with bright orange shirts and a number 4 on their back on a Friday morning, the only thing you wanted to do was to close your blinds and crawl back into bed for the weekend.

Your plans were thrown in the wind not even an hour later by none other than Cisca Norris. With an Instagram DM. You started following each other a few days after your friendship with Lando had been noticed by the public eye, but you’ve never really spoken to each other. She looked like a sweet girl nonetheless.

ciscanorris: heyyyy

ciscanorris: ik we never talked

ciscanorris: and that might not be the bestest moment to get friendly

ciscanorris: but heyyyyyyy

Your eyebrows rose at the notification, but you weren’t about to let your situation with Lando get in the way of interacting with his sister ─ who had nothing to do with it in the slightest.

whoisy/n: hey cisca! dw at all, hows it going : )

ciscanorris: great!! hbu?

whoisy/n: tired, but apart from that nothing much

ciscanorris: rest well then!

ciscanorris: i’m going to be honest tho

ciscanorris: i’m not just texting you to ask how you’re doing

It should have surprised you yet it didn’t. The timing was too spot-on to be a coincidence, but you chose to live in ignorant bliss.

ciscanorris: are you going to the race this weekend?

whoisy/n: what do you think

ciscanorris: can’t blame you

ciscanorris: my brother’s an ass

That made you chuckle.

whoisy/n: i was thinking worse

ciscanorris: so am i

ciscanorris: but he wants to make up for it

ciscanorris: really

ciscanorris: he insists you should go to the race

whoisy/n: and he couldn’t text me and ask himself because…?

ciscanorris: doesn’t want to spoil the surprise apparently

ciscanorris: idk what he’s planning

Another surprise. Knowing how the last one amazingly ended, you were a little doubtful. Lando sent his sister to ask you to come as if she was the one racing, and now he had something planned ─ again.

ciscanorris: just check your mailbox and think about it

This was enough to pique your curiosity. You went out immediately, opening the little white mailbox next to your front door. There was only a small, brown letter with your address hastily written in black ink ─ you recognized Lando’s handwriting. There it was: a paddock pass, classic McLaren colors, with your name on it. With it? A note, same brown paper, same handwriting: “Please”.

That’s all it took to convince you to go. After all, you still had to get a proper apology. 

This time, you entered the McLaren’s side of the paddock with purpose. The staff member at the entrance knew your name and even showed you the way ─ a sharp contrast with your experience a few months back. You stood above the garage, right in front of the track and near a decisive turn, though the number didn’t come back to you. It was a good spot, excellent even, it could be said to be better than the Beach Grandstands in Miami.

Yet, there was no sign of Lando.

You walked past Oscar in the hallways and the quiet driver just flashed you the tight-lipped smile you give to acquaintances in the street. You walked past his girlfriend, Lily, and you even passed by Lando’s dad, whose eyes widened in recognition but was clearly too busy to offer you anything more than that. Everyone but the man you came to watch the race for. You started to absentmindedly fidget with the bottom of your orange shirt ─ if that was his version of an apology, he was pretty shit at it.

The race started soon after your arrival, and the pit in your stomach dug deeper and deeper as you watched Lando do the formation turn. You suppose you were to wait until the end of the race, which made sense in a way, but you didn’t appreciate being put on standby like greenery on a windowsill.

The animosity dimmed when the sound of motors rang in your ears at lights out.

The circuit was brand new, and two days of preparations were not nearly enough to get acquainted with an entire novel track. Risks were high, and the probability of winning was evened out for everyone, which justified the cacophony of cars bumping into the others during the first lap as everyone found their footing. You believed Lando would have a good chance of ending P1 and snatching a victory in your city ─ it was the type of track and weather that favored him.

But Lando had started on pole position.

From the years you spent watching races and your general knowledge of him, Lando Norris didn’t do well when he started a race on pole. Most often, pressure got to him and he lost one or two places during the first few laps, which made you curse at the TV more than you’d like to admit. Unfortunately, it was exactly what was happening right now: you gripped the railing for dear life as Hamilton passed him, then almost broke your nail on the metal when Verstappen followed suit.

By the last lap, Lando had managed to stay P3 and keep his place on the podium, much to your relief, but the bitterness of pole escaping him was obvious in his behavior: champagne was sprayed all over him by his colleagues but he wouldn’t even look up from the ground, his traits disfigured by disappointment. Maybe some would see it as tiredness, but you knew better.

That’s why as soon as he walked down the podium to head to his team and to his garage, you darted downstairs to meet him.

It didn’t take long to spot Lando. His team surrounded him, clapping his shoulder and congratulating him with a bright smile. He barely returned them, scratching his neck in embarrassment. He was looking around like a lost puppy and you stood there, amidst the mess of elated people, unsure of what you should do or say. When Lando’s eyes set upon you, his expression went from disappointment to remorse in a split second.

He acted before you could. Rushing toward you, his voice was broken when he spoke up, trying to make himself clear above the surrounding noise.  “I’m so, so sorry. I fucked it all up. I was─ that was shitty. My race was shitty.”

You blinked. “What?” You couldn’t understand the link to the race and your situation to save your life. “Lando, you’re P3.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, gripping his curls. His eyes bore into yours, cutting off anything you might have wanted to add. “No!” He continued. “It’s not─ it’s not good enough. I should have been P1. It should have been me, up there. I worked… I worked so hard so I could…” He was breathless now, searching your face for something, even though you couldn’t tell what exactly.

“What are you even talking about?” Frustration elevated the tone of your voice.

“I was supposed to win the race for you!”

That shut you up. Incredulity coursed through you and your mouth, half-opened to say a sentence, couldn’t manage to get out a sound. His words didn’t make sense, and somehow you didn’t need to know more. Lando took your stunned silence as a sign to continue.

“I was supposed to win the race for you. I wanted to give you your book moment. You’re, you’re the type of girl that deserves to get swept off her feet, the grand gestures and all that!” He threw his arm in the air. “When you told me you never had that when we called that night, and the fact I could be the first one to do that for you… I never wanted something, someone, as bad.”

You felt yourself flush. “Everything else failed,” he kept on going, almost erratic, “I tried the heartfelt confessions but bailed right after, I tried to impromptu date but I forgot all about the fucking journalists. So I thought that- that maybe I could give it to you the way I knew best, by racing.”

His words, two months back, echoed in your mind. If you love her, you win a race for her.

“But I had to fuck that up too. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

All of it was for you.

The way Lando looked at you, desperate and miserable, the way your feelings were overflowing out of you and him… it was almost too much for you to process. Your mind and heart were an unintelligible tangled mess you couldn’t make sense of, and in classic you fashion, the first sentence that spilled out of your lips was a teary-eyed, broken, “You’re so stupid.”

“I know.”

You quickly wiped the tears that started spilling down your cheeks. “Not in that self-deprecating way you’re thinking of. Don’t you think it would have been easier if you just told me all this instead of ghosting me for almost a month? Making me think nothing about all this was real? Is that why you weren’t texting or answering me, you were figuring out how to go about this circuit?”

Lando nodded bashfully. You let out a dry laugh. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t care about- that! I don’t care that you didn’t get pole position, I don’t care about your ‘failed’ attempts. I couldn’t care less. What I care about is you. If you had told me that instead of leaving…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he apologized again. “I just─ I wanted─ I know I acted like a moron and I should’ve done better but I thought that if I─”

“I understand. I know.” Gently, you took his hands, furiously fisting the pans of his tracksuit, into yours. Apparently, it acted as an ice bucket dropped right on Lando’s head. He stared at you as if it was the first time ─ in a way it was. He was sweaty, dirty, and covered in champagne, his curls falling onto his forehead and you were standing there, almost as surprised as your first meeting. Except everything else had changed, and the man in front of you wasn’t just a guy driving in a fast car you liked watching on Sundays. “But I didn’t need it. You’re plenty enough all by yourself, without the grand gestures and book-worthy moments. I’m not a book heroine. I need something real.”

The space between the two of you suddenly seemed too vast for the emotions inside of you. One of Lando’s hands carefully slithered on your waist, as if to test the waters. The gentleness of his movement, its implication, stole the breath out of you. “How real are we talking?” He was trying to make light of the situation, but the underlying seriousness in his voice betrayed him. 

“I think you know it by now.”

And just like that, his lips crashed onto yours.

It was an electric shock as if lightning struck you and spilled in your entire body. When he pulled back, you didn’t waste a second wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him right back in.

If his hands were considerate, never unraveling further than your waist and cheeks, his mouth was the complete opposite: hungry, intense. He kissed you like he had been holding back for so long it pained him not to touch you, and you kissed him back with the same vigor because you had been waiting just as much. He tasted like expensive alcohol and you were drunk on it, on the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body. You couldn’t get enough. You don’t think Lando could either. It was messy, somewhat clumsy, his mouth wet and firm moving in sync against your own in haste and impatience.

But it couldn’t have been more perfect. Not for your first kiss.

“Really, right here? Get a goddamn room.”

You recognized Oscar’s voice, even though you couldn’t see him, which was an acidic reminder of where Lando and you both were. You broke the kiss first, and he let out a breathy laugh against your lips, sending shivers through your whole body. “That… was a long, long time coming,” he whispered.

“Whose fault is that?” He chuckled again. You did too.

You gave each other a bit of space, mainly for some well-needed air but also for the comfort of the staff around you. Still, Lando’s hand went up from your waist to your forearms, taking you in like it was the first time he saw you. His smile, wide and bright, brought the trademark heat to your cheek. “You wore the right color this time.” You were now hyper-aware of the shirt you wore, bright orange with a 4 printed on the back. “Good, I would've hated kissing you while you were wearing red. That equals cheating now, by the way.”

“Oh, really? You know, you still technically haven’t taken me out on a proper date,” you teased. “Don’t think you’re forgiven just yet.”

“Don’t even worry about that, I’ll take you out on the best dates ever. No paparazzis this time. You’ll even choose the movies.”

“Even if it’s a romcom?”

“I kinda grew attached to them because of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Before you could get another comment out, a squeal replaced it as you felt the floor give up under your feet. It took you too long to realize Lando had swept you up in his arms, bridal style and was currently heading down a hallway. Your arms went up around his neck, this time for support. “What are you doing?” You asked with a giggle.

“Taking you to the driver’s room.” Even though you couldn’t manage to see his face, you could practically hear his grin, proud and cocky. “Going to give you reasons to forgive me, we can talk date ideas here.”

“What about the interviews?”

“They can wait.”

Playful protests escaped you under the incredulous eyes of the staff members who saw you disappear behind the white door. You didn’t care. At all. Anxiety be damned, as well as everything that held you back before. Because of this, what you had with Lando, felt perfect. Right. It might be too soon to call it love, but you had no doubt it would come to that sooner than later.

Because the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you, was undoubtedly better than any romance novel you ever read. Because it was real.

©drgnsfly 2k25. do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[singmyaubade]

Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?

[madebycloud]

Ex at Christmas

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you've been invited to spend the christmas with your ex-girlfriend's family. only one problem is that your ex-girlfriend has not told anyone that the relationship is over. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: fluff and angst, found family af, fake dating, ex lovers, christmas, family gatherings, secret santa, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au vi just begging for you to take her back? words: 17.3k.... (i got carried away) notes: it's so long i should've cut it into parts but idk where... so suffer (╥﹏╥) — ✩ part one, part two

As always, the last drop is a lively spot. warm, cozy, and familiar. Colorful lights hang from the ceiling, a decorated tree stands in the corner, a 'merry christmas' painted on the wall, even a few strings of garland have been hung from the low ceiling.

People are crowding around the bar. Some are playing pool, some are simply chatting amongst themselves, cigarette smoke curling up toward the ceiling.

Vander's voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Look who finally showed her face around here.” He reaches over the top of the bar to ruffle your hair.

“I know, I know.” You laugh, swatting his hand away. “Things are just... busy, y'know?” 

Vander rests his forearms on the countertop, leaning closer to you. “Just making sure you're still alive. “Been an awful long while since I last saw you.”

“I've been fine, old man.” 

“Glad to hear you're doing alright kid. Haven't seen you around here in, what, three months? You need to come by more often, keep an old guy company.” He chuckles. “I almost thought you'd vanished.”

“You sound like a grandma with kids that never call.”

Vander grins and winks at you, taking a rag and wiping at the bartop. “You're like a kid to me, so I guess it checks out.”

You scoff but say nothing, leaning against the bartop as your eyes start to travel across the room. A few people mill about that you recognize as regular patrons, but other than that, there's pretty much no one of interest.

Vander snorts and lifts the rag to his shoulder. “We're having our christmas gathering again this year, you should swing by. Just like last christmas, eh?”

A lot has changed for you in the past month, and you've been dreading this coming up. “I... don't know. I don't think so.”

Vander raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don't know? Not up to seeing the old gang again?”

“Not exactly,” you murmur, the memory of the breakup is still fresh. It's not that you don't want to see your friends, it's just the idea of seeing Vi again. “It's not that, I just... things have changed, especially recently. I don't want to... accidentally make things awkward or something.”

Vander shakes his head and it almost seems like he's laughing at you. “Why would it be awkward?”

“I don't know…” You sigh, your shoulders slumping in resignation. “Nevermind it, I'm going.”

Your words get a smirk out of Vander, and he reaches over to poke your arm. “That's what I like to hear.” He gives you a wink, folding his arms across his chest. “You better show up or I'll drag you here myself. You know I could.”

“Like I'd let you drag me here, old man—there's no way your back can handle that.”

“Ah, you kids these days have no respect for your elders. You're gonna break my old back and then I'll die,” he pretends to sniffle, making you scoff.

Silco then walks over, looping his arms around Vander's shoulders. The two of them exchange a knowing glance before Silco turns his attention to you. “Look who actually decided to show up.”

Vander laughs as he pats Silco's arm. “Cut the kid some slack. They're just here to have a good time.”

Silco chuckles, his eyes still on you. “So are you coming on Christmas?”

You rub at the back of your neck, and just as you're about to answer, Vander beats you to it. “Yeah, she's coming,” he confirms.

Silco hums, he lifts his arm from off Vander, resting it in his hip instead. “Good, I was beginning to think you were going to weasel your way out of it.”

Vander smacks his shoulder. “Lay off, would ya? let the kid breathe.”

Silco relents and waves his hand dismissively. “I'm just saying.” He looks back at you. “We all want you there, you know. It wouldn't be the same without you.”

Hearing them say that makes you feel guilty for even considering not going. You know they mean it. You just hope it won't be too much awkward with Vi there.

Vander nods and smiles. “He's right, you know. Everyone's been asking about you. They'll be happy to have you there.”

“I get it. You don't have to butter me up, old man.”

Vander chuckles, then he glances over his shoulder, gesturing to a small, unassuming box on a nearby table. “Hey, could you grab that little box over there for me?” Silco smirks and nods before moving to get the box, bringing it over and handing it to Vander.

“What's in the box?” you ask.

Vander grins at you, holding the box in his hands. “We're doing a secret santa,” he explains, “and since you’re coming that means you're participating too.”

Your eyebrows raise to your hairline. You'd completely forgotten about the secret santa. You groan in annoyance, running your hands over your face. “I'm still annoyed I got that whoopee cushion from Powder last year.”

“That was a good one. She was so damn proud of herself too, and besides…” Vander pauses, turning to look at you. “You never know, you might get something less annoying this year.” He then holds the box out to you, a smile on his lips.

There's always the possibility you won't get something shitty, but knowing most of your friends... Yeah, that's unlikely.

You look at the box, then up at Vander. You take the box from him. “I hope you're right, old man.”

Vander chuckles before stepping back to talk to Silco.

You turn the box over in your hands, feeling the weight of it. It's not too heavy, and you feel compelled to shake it. But if you do that, you'll probably end up drawing Vander's name, and that's basically cheating.

Sighing, you decide to just bite the bullet. You take the lid off the box, sticking your hand inside. Your fingers rummage around before they eventually close around a folded piece of paper.

You pull out the slip of paper, unfolding it slowly. You glance at the handwriting, then almost roll your eyes.

Of course you got Vi.

Out of all the names you could have drawn, you get the one person you didn't want to get. You could have gotten literally anyone else. Mylo, Claggor, Powder, Silco, or anyone other than Vi. but no, you had to get your ex. Just your luck.

You look at the note again, and the first thought that comes to your mind is...

Well, crap.

You're so focused on the slip of paper in your hands that you don't notice Vander and Silco peeking over your shoulder.

“So, who'd you get?”

Vander's question makes you jump, you quickly stuff the paper into your pocket before they can see who it is.

“No one,” you say, waving your hand to dismiss the question. “It's not important.”

Silco raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you pocketing the paper?”

“It's a secret for a reason.”

Vander and Silco glance at each other, and you can tell they're silently communicating. 

Vander turns back to you a moment later, rubbing his jaw. “A secret, huh? Well, that means whoever you got won't know it's you.”

Silco hums. “That's probably a good thing.” 

“That's kind of the point of a secret Santa.”

Vander nods, scratches his beard before his lips turn up in a smile. “True means you can give them something real nice.”

Silco glances at Vander before looking at you. “Whoever you got is probably going to be very happy when they get their gift.”

You almost snort at Silco's words. Yeah, right. a gift from you? She’ll probably chuck it straight in the trash.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake the thoughts of Vi out of your head. You don't know why you're worried about how she'll react. Why care if she'll like the gift? Why care if she's happy with whatever you get her?

The answer is so obvious, but you don't want to admit it even to yourself.

Vander and Silco are still looking at you, and you realize that you have to say something. Any longer and they might figure it out.

You push those thoughts away. “If they'll actually like it. I'm not the best with gifts.”

“Oh, I'm sure they will,” Silco says, a knowing smirk on his face.

Vander nods. “Just give them something from the heart.”

From the heart, my ass. The only thing you want to give her from the heart is a kick in the ass.

“Because someone's gonna be real happy with something from me.”

Vander and Silco exchange another look again, like they're having an entire conversation without actually saying anything.

You turn away from them, looking out the window. They're probably trying to read your mind, figure out who it is you got. The thought makes your eyes twitch. You don't want them to know. You don't know why, but you really don't want them to know.

“Just do us a favor,” Silco suddenly says, cutting into the silence that had fallen between you. “Try not to stress too hard about it. You'll give yourself gray hairs.”

Vander chuckles at Silco's words, “You'll give us an old heart attack.”

“Ha ha, funny.”

Silco grins at your response. “Well, we're only half-joking.”

Vander's eyes soften. He slaps Silco's shoulder to get him to shut up. “What he means is, you overthink too much,” Vander adds.

Yeah, so what if you overthink? It's a normal thing to do. Especially in situations like this, where you're stuck with the one person you don't want to be.

Why keep thinking about her? You need to stop obsessing over her. She made her choice, and it wasn't you.

You run your fingers to your face, trying to think of something else to distract yourself. It's not like you don't know what you want to get Vi. You just don't know if you should get it.

“I don't overthink,” you grumble, shifting your weight on your feet. 

“Oh yes, you do.”

And they're both right about that. You can't even count how many times you've paced around your apartment, replaying every interaction you had with Vi over and over again in your head. Every word, every touch, and every look. All of it, it's like your brain refuses to let you forget.

You've spent countless nights trying to figure out where you went wrong. What you could have done differently if there was something you could have changed. All of that, just because of one person who tossed you aside without a second thought.

“Listen,” Silco says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look over at him as he stands up straight, a smirk spreads across his lips. “You're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about something that hasn't even happened yet.”

“He's right,” Vander gives you a look before continuing. “And for the love of God, stop overthinking.”

If only it were that simple. If only you could just switch off your brain and stop thinking about everything. But you know damn well you can't do that. Your thoughts are as uncontrollable as the weather, and right now, they're a mess.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your thoughts. “I should probably go,” you mutter, and the two men nod. 

Vander pats you on the back as you start for the door. “Same place, eh?’ he calls after you. 

“Don't think too hard, kid,” Silco adds.

You give them both a nod as you exit the bar, shutting the door behind you.

Christmas is going to be one hell of a mess this year, you can feel it.

Now all you have to do is figure out how the hell you're going to deal with it.

—

You're standing outside of Vander and Silco’s house, the weight of the present in your hands suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier.

You've replayed this moment in your head countless times, but now that it's happening for real, you're not sure if you're ready.

Christmas music drifts out of the house, it's a familiar tune that you've heard a million times.

You push down the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. You shouldn't be feeling so nervous, it's just a gift. Just a present for a secret santa.

But this isn't just anyone, this is Vi. The one person who you didn't want to get. The one person who broke things off without a second thought.

Stop thinking about this. It's just one night. one stupid night, and then it will be over. You can get through this, you can handle being around Vi for one Christmas. No more thinking about her. No more wondering where you went wrong or if you could have done something to change things. Just get through the night and forget about her.

You take another deep breath, straighten up, and square your shoulders. Then, in one moment, you push open the doors to their house and walk inside.

Your eyes search the room, looking for that familiar pink hair. But you don't see her. Your shoulders relax a little. Maybe she's not here yet. That'll give you a few minutes to brace yourself. No one is around right now, probably in their rooms or preparing for the dinner. 

You were so distracted by looking around that you didn't realize someone was standing right behind you until they grabbed you and spun you around. Your eyes meet their powder blue ones, and your mouth suddenly goes dry.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Woah, hey-” you stumble over your words.

“Don't 'woah hey' me,” she snaps, her grip tightening on your arm.

Vander's deep voice cut in before you could even speak. “You've actually came.”

You feel her look away from you, her hand finally falling from your arm. As soon as it does, you rub the skin where she grabbed you.

Vander looks between the two of you and says, “Hand me the gift, kid. I'll put it there.” He gestures towards a christmas tree where the gifts are already sitting underneath.

You quickly hold the present out for him to take.

He takes it before giving both of you another look. “Go easy with your girlfriend, eh?”

You freeze, your heart stopping as his words register. Your eyes widen as you slowly turn your head to look at Vi.

Girlfriend?

“I will.” Before you can even process what's happening, you're being pulled outside.

You yank your arm back from Vi, quickly putting some distance between the two of you. “What's your problem?”

She spins around and scoffs, looking you up and down. “I should be asking you that. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Vander invited me. He asked me to come.”

“Then you should've said no.”

“Wow? just wow.” You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I know that things didn't go well between us, but you don't get to push me out of this family. They're my family too, and Vander invited me here to celebrate. I have as much right to be here as you do.”

You refuse to break eye contact with her. “You can ignore me all you want, but you don't get to decide how I'm allowed to spend my Christmas. If you want to keep acting like this, fine. Ignore me, pretend I don't exist, just like you've been doing for the past months.”

Vi lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand on her forehead. “They do not know.”

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks over at the entrance and says, “They all think we're still together.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” you almost shout. “Why the hell would they think that?” “Because I didn't tell them.” She scoffs. “Every time I talk to them, they ask me how you are. Silco and Vander keep making comments about how we make a cute couple. They still think we're together.”

“Why the hell didn't you tell them?” You glare at her. “Were you ever going to?”

“I don't know,” she retorts, throwing her arms up. “They're all so happy about us being together.”

“That's such bullshit,” you snap at her. “That's such a crappy excuse! You should be the one to tell them we broke up.”

She looks away, planting her arm on her hips. “Don't you think I know that?” she shoots back. “It's not that simple. I can't just rip off the bandage like that.”

“Is that it? You’re scared that they'll know?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know how Silco and Vander can get.”

“I know how they get,” you snap back at her. “You're just too much of a pussycat to face them and tell them the truth.”

Her expression hardens, and her jaw clenches. “Look who's talking. You can't even say no to a little family gathering, but here you are.”

“I didn't come here because I wanted to see you. I came for the family, not for you.”

“As if I wanted to see you either. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with you all night.”

“Fine, you know what? I'll go tell them right now that we broke up. They deserve to know.”

She grabs your wrist before you can take a step towards the door. “Wait”

You look down at her hand, then back up at her. “What?”

“Don't,” she says through gritted teeth. “Just... don't tell them yet.”

You scoff, ripping your arm away from her grip. “Why the hell not? So they can keep thinking we're still together?”

“Just don't tell them tonight. Can you just give me until after Christmas?”

“Why are you still dragging this out? What difference does it make if we wait till then or do it now?”

“Because it's fucking Christmas!” she snaps before dropping her gaze. “Look, it's the holidays. I just... I don't want to ruin Christmas. They've all been looking forward to all of us celebrating together. I don't want to ruin it by spoiling the fun.”

“Wait—let me get this straight. You want to fake it this christmas? Pretend we're still a happy couple?”

She's quiet again. “Yeah,” she whispers, looking down. “Yeah, that's what I'm asking.”

“You're unbelievable, Vi.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself together. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You're asking me to pretend like we're still together, to pretend that nothing has changed.”

“It's just one day,” she mumbles. “One day, that's all I'm asking for. We can tell them anytime after that, just not tonight, please.”

She even says please. Something about the way she says it makes your heart ache. She looks desperate, like this really means something to her. Who are you kidding? Of course, this means something to her. 

They're her family, they're important to her. And on Christmas, all they want is for everything to be perfect. perfect food, perfect presents, and perfect couples.

You hate the way she's looking at you with those soft, pleading eyes. She always looks at you like that when she wants something, and you always give in. She does it subconsciously, knowing how to get exactly what she wants. And damn it, it works.

“Fine,” you mutter. “You've got your damned wish.”

And there it is. There's the look you've been waiting for. That look of relief that comes to her eyes.

You hate that look. You hate how your heart flutters when she looks like that. You hate it so much. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you've got me for tonight. I'll pretend like we're still together. Happy now?”

There's a flicker of a smile on her face, something quick that's gone before you can even register. “Yeah, thank you.”

She looks away again. Silence falls between the two of you as you shift awkwardly.

This is gonna be a long night.

You sigh, watching as she keeps her focus on the floor. This is so damn awkward.

And it's your own fault for agreeing to this nonsense. There's no way this night doesn't end up being a goddamn catastrophe. You would give anything to just disappear right now.

Powder's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Peeking her head out of the doorway, looking at the two of you. “Hey, you two. It's cold out there, get your asses in here.”

You look at Vi, waiting for a sign of acknowledgment.

She slowly glances up, her gaze meeting yours. “Come on,” she murmurs, holding out her hand.

Taking a deep breath, you take her hand in yours.

You've held her hand so many times before—more times than you can count. Holding her hand used to be nothing, but now it feels so odd. So awkward.

But she doesn't seem to notice how out of place it feels. She slowly leads you towards the door, squeezing your hand as she pulls you along.

“How are my favorite love birds doing?” Mylo's voice greets you as you both enter.

He slings a casual arm over your shoulders, leaning on your shoulder to get a better look at you. “It's about time you two showed up. I thought for sure you were just gonna keep making out in a corner somewhere.”

It takes everything you have not to elbow him in the stomach. Instead, you keep a neutral expression and chuckle awkwardly, “Yeah, you know us. Can't keep our hands off of each other.”

“You two are sickeningly in love, it's really cute, actually.”

Your eye twitches, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah, we're very in love,” Vi says, and you can tell she's trying not to roll her eyes.

Mylo claps you on the shoulder before releasing you. “Well then, I'm going to go find myself some eggnog.” He leaves towards the kitchen, whistling to himself as he goes.

You turn to look at Vi, and you almost feel a twinge of hatred towards the way she so casually holds your hand, like nothing is wrong.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice brings you back to reality, and suddenly you're all too aware of how hard you're clenching your jaw and the fact that you're basically just glowering at the floor with a storm cloud over your head.

You raise your eyes to meet with hers, and you have to force yourself to release some of the tension. “Yeah, fine,” you mutter. “just cold”

It's a lie, obviously. It's not cold at all. Vander always keeps the place nice and warm.

Not even she's dumb enough to fall for that. She glances around, clearly noticing how you're not really hiding your feelings well.

She runs her thumb over the back of your hand. It's an innocent gesture, one that you've seen dozens of times before. It's not meant to be anything special, it never was. And yet, it still makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have absolutely no idea how you're going to get through this night with both your sanity and your heart still intact.

“Okay,” she finally says, “can you stop clenching your jaw so hard? you look like you're trying to grind your teeth down to the bone. I know this isn't the ideal situation, but please don't go around looking like you want to kill everyone in this room.”

Her fingers squeeze your hand, and you realize just how tightly you're holding her hand in yours. Your knuckles are white, and your fingers are probably digging into her skin.

Gritting your teeth, you loosen your grip. 

“There, that's better… please try and just relax for a bit. This is going to be hellish already, so I at least need you to not look like you hate me every second we're in here.”

You look away from her. “Please don't act like you care.”

“I'm not acting like I care,” she says, a tone just loud enough for only you to hear. “I do care, and that's the problem.”

Of course she has to say something like that right now. Of course she has to hit where it hurts the most.

Care? care about what? about you? about what she put you through, how she broke your heart?

You open your mouth, but your response dies in your throat. You have no idea how to respond to that.

A loud shout interrupts your thoughts, and you both turn around. “Oi! Time for dinner!” Powder yells from the doorway into the kitchen.

Vi mutters under her breath, “finally.”

Powder grins as she waves you both over. “Hurry up or Vander will eat everything and complain about his bad back afterwards.”

“We're coming,” Vi calls back.

The two of you head towards the kitchen. There's a long table in the middle of the room, covered in a red and green tablecloth. Everyone is already crowded around the table, taking their seats as you two enter the room. Vander is at the head of one of the tables, Silco seated beside him. Mylo and Claggor are chatting amongst themselves as Powder takes her seat beside Claggor.

Vi looks at the seating arrangement and sighs, realizing what's about to happen. She pulls you over to the table and sits down, pulling you down into the seat right next to her.

After a few moments, everyone quiets down and turns their attention to Silco.

Silco places his hands together. “It's good to see everyone together like this today. I am thankful that we are all here, safe and healthy.” He glances around the room in a quick survey, seeming to count everyone's attendance. “And what better time to be together than the holidays?”

Powder huffs. “Can we just eat? I'm starving.” 

Silco raises his hand for Powder to stay quiet. “Patience, Pow. First, let's do something a bit… different.”

Mylo and Claggor glance at each other in confusion. “Different?” Mylo repeats.

“Indeed,” Silco replies. “Instead of just diving into our meal, I thought it would be nice if we all took a moment to share a few words about what we are thankful for this year.”

“We're really gonna do this?”

Claggor nudges him. “Be polite, Mylo.”

“He's right, though,” Powder chimes in.

Silco raises an eyebrow at them both. “Is it really such a hassle to express gratitude at the end of the year?”

Mylo and Powder grumble something under their breaths.

Claggor is the first one to respond. “I think it's a fine idea.”

“Thank you, Claggor,” Silco replies, “I'm glad we have at least one cooperative person here.”

After a moment of silence, Vander speaks. “Alright, then I'll go first... I am grateful for my family,” he says as he looks around the room. “I am thankful for my health, for my business, and most of all, that everyone is still here with me and safe.”

“That's so soft,” Powder says, but everyone ignores her.

Vander turns his head and looks directly at Silco, as if he's saying something that's meant to be for Silco's ears only, though everyone can clearly hear. “I'm also thankful for you, Sil,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile.

You're not sure if you're the only one who noticed, but that comment definitely seemed personal and almost a little out of place.

He collects himself quickly and nods at Vander, seemingly not quite sure of what to say. “Thank you, Vander.” 

Silco clears his throat and composes himself, turning his gaze to Powder. “How about you, Pow? Any words of gratitude?”

Powder groans, slouching back in her seat like a child who's been forced to eat her vegetables. “I swear, if you make me say something corny-”

Mylo leans over the table to look at her sister. “Say something nice for once, or you're not getting dessert.”

“Ugh, fine. I am thankful for…” She looks around the room, taking in everyone's faces. “I'm thankful everyone's here and we're all... whatever, happy and healthy or something like that,” she mumbles.

“I'll take whatever I can get,” Silco mutters before turning his attention to Claggor. “What about you, Claggor?”

Claggor seems to be taking a moment to think, like he's actually putting effort into what he will say. “I'm grateful for…” His eyes are almost unfocused as he thinks. After a moment, he glances up to look at Vander. “I'm grateful for the family I have here.”

Vander gives him a warm look in response.

Everyone's gaze turns to Mylo, expecting him to go next.

He fidgets anxiously, shifting in his seat as he glances around the room. “What am I supposed to say?...er, fine... My whole life's a mess, but...at least all you idiots are here to make my life more miserable.”

“We love you too, Mylo” Powder teases. “Real touching. I think I might cry.”

Mylo throws a glare in her direction. “Shut up.”

Silco glances at Vi, his gaze lingering as he waits for Vi to speak.

“I'm thankful for…” Her voice is quieter than usual, more hesitant. She glances at you before continuing. “I'm... thankful for the people I have in my life.”

Everyone's gaze settles on you next, waiting for you to say something. “Well, I... I guess I'm thankful to be able to still participate in this family gathering, even if I haven't seen everyone in a while.” You take a look at Vi before moving on. “Hopefully I can still be here and spend Christmas with all of you next year too.”

She holds your gaze for a moment, almost as if she's processing what you just said… and then, unexpectedly, a smile forms at the corner of her lips.

It's a subtle change, barely noticeable, but you see it. and just seeing her smile, even a small one like that, has butterflies filling your stomach. It's been so long since you've seen her smile like that. A part of you misses it, a part of you yearns to see it more often.

She quickly looks away, and you notice that her cheeks have turned a light shade of pink.

“There, we all said our little cheesy bullshit,” Powder says, clearly getting impatient.

Silco turns to Powder, his expression disapproving. “Language, Pow,” he reminds. 

Vander sighs. “Yes, Powder, mind your language” he adds, earning a mock-offended look from Powder.

“Like you don't swear all the time.”

“I do not swear all the time, Pow,” he protests, although you know it's a lie. Even the most proper and upstanding people swear, and Vander is definitely not that.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Vander huffs but chooses not to add anything. Silco lets out a dry cough to redirect everyone's attention. “Right, now that that's over, let's go ahead and eat, shall we?” Silco says, as if the whole moment of gratitude never happened..

“Finally,” Mylo grumbles, “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about why we all gathered here.”

Silco gives him a look. “Patience is a virtue, Mylo.”

“We've all been patient for the last hour, so spare me.”

Claggor sighs, but thankfully Mylo and Powder seem to settle into silence for the time being.

Silco nods in approval. “Then, shall we begin?”

Vander gets up from his seat, moving to go grab the food.

Powder and Mylo look at Vander expectantly, and they both look like they're about to get out of their seats. Silco gives them a warning look, silencing them before they can get a word out. “Wait until everything is ready.”

They both grumble, but they obediently sit back down. They're impatient, sure, but they at least know better than to piss off Silco.

Vander returns a moment later, setting a platter filled with food on the table. It looks delicious, and the smell is mouthwatering. Your stomach growls a little, reminding you of how hungry you are.

Powder and Mylo are practically drooling, and you honestly wouldn't be surprised if they lunged for the food the moment Silco gave the word.

Thankfully, he doesn't give them any chance. He simply says, “Please, help yourselves,” and Silco has to gesture for them to wait.

They almost get up and move to the table, and they're clearly resisting the temptation to shove each other to try and get to the food faster.

Mylo lets out a curse, and Jinx giggles in response. Vi stands up and grabs both of them, grabbing onto their shoulders and holding them back from each other.

“Enough, you two,” she scolds, “there's plenty of food for everyone. Chill out.”

They look at her with expressions that clearly are saying, 'no, we're hungry'. Powder lets out a huff, and Mylo looks like he's one more remark away from shoving her sister.

Vi's expression sharpens, her eyes boring into Mylo and Powder. “No, quit the bullshit, you can wait a few minutes, and if you two can't act like adults about it, neither of you are getting any.”

Mylo immediately shuts up at that, his expression turning more guilty. Powder just looks like she's about to protest, a pout forming on her face. Vi glares at Powder to shush her as well.

“Just quit it,” she says. “You can wait, the food will taste better if you don't shove it all down your throats like dogs.”

“Fine, we'll wait,” she grumbles.

Mylo just nods with a pout, staying quiet.

Vi seems to notice their looks, and she rolls her eyes, staying put just in case. She seems wary as she watches Powder and Mylo, her eyes switching from them to the food on the table.

And sure enough, the moment Silco gestures for everyone to get their food, Powder and Mylo are gone, rushing to claim their plates.

Powder and Mylo shove each other for their own plates. No one says anything though, they're all just used to it. This is just how Powder and Mylo are, and they've come to accept it. Vi doesn't even seem as bothered as everyone else does. 

Mylo seems like he's really close to just pushing Powder to the side and snatching up the slice he wants, and Powder doesn't look any better. Honestly, if Vi didn't step in, there was a chance they'd start throwing punches.

And judging from how the others' looks, especially Silco, they look like they're expecting this. 

It's like this is all completely normal, they know to expect this kind of behavior when food, and more importantly, free food, is involved.

Powder and Mylo finally settle down after their little fight, and they finally begin digging into the food.

Mylo is practically shoving it into his face, eating it like he's been starved for weeks. Powder isn't any better, although at least she's not making a complete mess.

Claggor is significantly slower when it comes to eating, choosing to take his time as he slowly eats as opposed to just shoving the food into his mouth.

Vander eats at a decent pace, and he doesn't seem as starving like Mylo is.

The last one to begin eating is Silco, and surprisingly, there's a smile on his face. He takes one look at how Mylo and Powder are chowing down on their food, then he turns his gaze and looks at you, as if silently asking if you're going to eat.

You take the hint, and you decide to dig into your own food. The food is delicious, and you can't blame Mylo and Powder for basically trying to swallow their food whole.

Vi also begins eating now that everyone's settled down.

Vander laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Slow down a little, you two, the food isn't going anywhere.”

Mylo and Powder both raise their heads at that, and they both look like they're considering it for a moment... but they immediately go back to shoving food down their throats.

Claggor shakes his head as he watches them eat. “You'd think they'd never seen a Christmas dinner before.”

“You know them, they would scarf down all the food in town if they could.”

Powder glances up at that, a small pout forming on her lips. “Hey, it's not our fault we're just starving.”

Mylo nods in agreement, his mouth too full to say anything.

“You both just had eaten before this,” Claggor counters.

Mylo swallows whatever food is in his mouth long enough to argue with Claggor. “And that was hours ago.”

“Yeah,” Powder agrees, “it was practically an eternity since we ate.”

“Two hours is not an eternity,” Claggor retorts. 

“It might as well be,” Powder counters.

Despite the bickering and arguing the dinner feels oddly... domestic, almost.

Claggor looks like the responsible and mature oldest sibling who's done with his siblings nonsense, Vander almost acts like a tired parent, Silco acts more like a stern aunt, and Powder and Mylo act like rowdy kids who are constantly at each other's throats.

Vi sits next to you. She's making sarcastic comments with Silco, laughing at Powder's jokes, and making small talk with Claggor. She even gives Mylo an unimpressed glare when he tries to snatch all the bread for himself.

It's like you're both back to normal. The way she's acting makes your heart ache. She's giving you all the attention a partner would give.

She gives you fond smiles whenever you make a comment, she casually slides an arm around your shoulders, she even scoots her chair a little closer to yours.

Her eyes are soft, her voice is soft, whenever you look at her, she looks back with this affectionate look.

It's so normal, that it almost takes you back to your relationship and how you two were before the breakup.

She's even doing little things, like leaning closer to you, letting a hand rest on your thigh, even discreetly grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with hers under the table.

You want to hold her tight and never let her go, but your brain keeps reminding you. You two aren't together anymore.

But when you look at her, when she looks at you with that look in her eyes, everything goes quiet. 

Maybe it could work this time.

Maybe you two could just bury the hatchet and move on.

Maybe things could work between you two if you try it out again.

Then you remember the fights, the nights you spent on your bed, crying while Vi was out with friends. You remember how she treated you after the breakup—how she tossed you aside like discarded trash.

You try to ignore it, push it to the back of your head. But it's so hard when Vi sits next to you, close enough for you to catch the scent of her perfume. She smells like cigarettes and leather, something that's so her.

You're so focused on trying to stop yourself from touching her or even getting closer that you're almost surprised when she suddenly leans her head against your shoulder.

She doesn't say anything, just leans against you. She's pressed against your side, her shoulder against your shoulder, her head against yours, her hand on your thigh.

You notice her scent again, now stronger.

Her hair brushes against your neck, the way you can feel the warmth of her body, and the way her thumb draws little circles into your thigh.

She's so close, and yet you want her even closer.

You want to run your hands through her hair, you want to nuzzle your face into her shoulder, you want to feel her hands roaming your body.

You just want her.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Powder, her question pulling you out of your head. “It's been a while since we've seen you two together,” she says, her mouth still full of food.

Claggor shoots Powder a look. “Powder-”

“Shush, I'm just wondering,” she argues, shrugging casually, “has she been avoiding you?”

“No,” you say before anyone can say anything. “We just... haven't had time to schedule any dates, that's all.”

“For months? Haven't had time to schedule a single date for months?”

“Life gets busy, y'know,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

Mylo scoffs at that. “You two are dating, the least you could do is at least manage one date a month.”

Claggor smacks him over the head. Mylo grumbles and rubs the back of his head, shooting his brother a glare. “What? it's true,” he mutters. “We just kind of... we all miss you.”

Vander gives Mylo a disapproving glare. “What Mylo means is, your presence has been sorely missed around here.”

“We all just... we just want you around more,” Powder puts in her two cents, speaking around a mouthful of food again.

You cast a sidelong glance at Vi. You and her are putting up a pretty good facade so far, but Mylo's question seemed to have put her on the spot a little. She catches your glance, and you give her a look that says, just play along. Vi sighs, her hand squeezing your thigh.

“Look, I-” She glances around the table, meeting everyone's eyes before sighing and putting on the most believable expression. “I know we haven't been as... present as we should have been for the past few months. Work just got really hectic.”

“That's true,” you back her up with a nod. “I had to travel away for a business trip a few weeks ago, so it's been pretty hard to find time to spend together.”

Vander, Silco, and Powder all nod in understanding. They're aware of the fact that you have a job in a big city, so it's not an unbelievable explanation.

Mylo, however, snorts and crosses his arms. “You don't have to feed us some lame excuse for not hanging out with us.”

Claggor gives Mylo another smack. “Would you shut up already?”

“Ow!” Mylo grumbles as he rubs his head again, shooting Claggor a dirty look.

Vander sighs. “Regardless, it's good to have you here for Christmas this time.”

Everyone nods and agrees. Powder grins at you, Silco shoots you a small almost-smile, and Claggor and Vander both look genuinely pleased to have you here.

All eyes then land on Mylo, and he shrugs again, mumbling, “I guess it is good to have you here.”

“See, it's a christmas miracle, Mylo isn't being a little prick for once,” Powder teases.

Mylo scowls at her. “Hey, I'm never a little prick-”

“Bullshit.”

Mylo just grumbles again, his eyes narrowing at Powder. “I just think that-”

“Nobody cares what you think,” Powder interrupts again.

That just causes Claggor, Vander, and Silco to laugh. Vi snorts next to you, squeezing your thigh.

The conversation soon changes to talking about old childhood holiday memories.

Mylo tells a story about him stealing Silco's secret chocolate stash when he was twelve. Silco scowls at the memory, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Powder tells a story about the time she accidentally burned the back of Vander's hair with a roman candle. Vander laughs and shakes his head at the memory.

At some point, Claggor chimes in to tell a story about a time he and Mylo accidentally broke a window during a snowball fight. Even Mylo himself laughs at that one.

There's lighthearted banter, friendly jabs, and just a lot of laughter in between. This, this is what it should have been like from the beginning. It reminds you of the way it used to be when you were all younger, but still has a different air to it. In a way, it's almost better than those old days. Everyone's grown, but there's still that same energy that always connected you all as a family... it just feels fuller.

You don't know if it's just the christmas lights playing tricks on your mind, but you swear you can see the faintest tearful sheen in Vander's eyes. He's always had a bit of parental pride and love toward all of you, but seeing you all sitting here together, happy... damn, it must bring back a lot of memories for him.

Silco even looks less grumpy than usual, his mouth twisting into a barely visible smile as the rest of the table continues talking. Yeah, this is how christmas should be…

It almost makes you forget that all of this is fake, almost makes you forget why you and Vi aren't together anymore. It's almost like just for tonight, you can pretend like things are back to how they used to be.

But you know this will not last. When everything is said and done, when christmas night is over and you're all saying your goodbyes, you have no doubt in your mind that you and Vi will go your separate ways again.

You glance at her, taking in the sight of her laughing with the rest. Her eyes are bright, her smile is big, and her entire face lights up with joy. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your heart to quiet. 

Vi must notice you looking, because she glances over at you. She's looking at you with that look again. You recognize it so easily.

That look... that damn look she's giving you again. The look that makes your heart stutter against your ribs, the look that makes your stomach twist into knots. It's a look that almost makes you want to lean forward and kiss her.

You almost give into your urges. You almost reach out and push a stray strand of hair out of her face, you almost do something to kiss her, almost.

But you don't, you can't. That would spoil the whole 'still dating' facade, and besides.... you have boundaries.

You give her a nod, offering a small smile, and you swear that you see disappointment flash across her eyes.

She looks like she wants to say something, her hand tightening over your knee again, but she seems to change her mind and just smiles back.

Maybe it's just a figment of your own imagination, you think to yourself. Maybe it was a trick of the light or something.

Claggor reaches over to grab something from the middle of the table, and Silco clears his throat. “How about you two?” he says it casually, like he's just making small talk, but there's a hint of concern in his voice. “Any... any problems between the two of you lately?”

You and Vi both sit up straighter. “Problems...?” Vi repeats.

Silco just shrugs, playing it casual. “I don't know, I'm just wondering... a lot of couples who have been together for as long as the two of you have.” He trails off, but everyone at the table knows the implications.

Mylo grumbles. “I swear, if you start talking about how high the divorce rate is—” Claggor elbows Mylo, and he shuts up.

Silco just chuckles. “Oh, I'm sure you two can last.”

Powder rolls her eyes. “These two have been together since forever. You guys were like... practically attached at the hip, from day one.”

“Yeah, we were like that, weren't we?” Vi looks back at you.

“Yeah,” you say with a casualness you don't feel. “Yeah, we were.”

Silco hums. “I remember when you two first started dating.”

“Oh, do you remember that?” Vander says, looking at Silco. “I remember the two of them coming to me the day they decided they were going to be official.”

Claggor nods. “Yeah, and they were so... so mushy. All 'you're mine' and 'we're never going to break up,” he puts on a mock high-pitched voice, imitating you and Vi

“That was the worst,” Powder groans, shoving food into her mouth.

Mylo grins and elbows Claggor. “How many times did you have to stop them from making out all over the bar again?”

“Way too many times.”

“By the way,” Mylo says. “You two aren't doing anything for new years, are you?”

You and Vi exchange glances. “...we haven't made plans yet,” you say slowly, trying to think of excuses.

“Oh, you should come join us then,” Mylo says, leaning back and stretching his arms. “All of us are getting hammered down here for new years, you two should come.”

“Yeah, it'll be fun!” Powder pipes up, eyes lighting up. “You guys will come, won't you? promise you'll come.”

You open your mouth, trying to wrack your brain for excuses, but before you can say anything-

“Of course we'll come.”

You turn to look at Vi, and she just gives you a shrug.

Mylo grins. “Good, good! That'll be fun.” He sits up and points a finger at you both. “I swear, the two of you used to be so much fun at parties, it's like you both went boring when you got older.”

“Hey, just cause we're getting old doesn't mean we suddenly became party poopers,” Vi says defensively. “We're still fun.”

Mylo cackles. “Are you now? I never see you two do anything anymore.” He leans back in his seat. “Ever since you got that fancy shmancy job, you've been too busy to have any fun.”

“We know how to have fun, we have—” you pause, trying to think of the word, “responsibilities now. Responsibilities that a certain someone is too dumb to understand.”

“I understand responsibilities, but I understand the concept that if you don't get wasted while you're young, then you'll wake up at forty, old and boring,” he says, looking at Silco and Vander. “And I want to make the most out of my young and reckless years. Meanwhile, you've already turned into an old, boring fart.”

You scowl at that, but Silco interrupts before you can respond. “Don't knock on old farts just yet. Some of us are old and still know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” Vander chimes in, nodding his head. “Just because we're old doesn't mean we don't know how to have a good time.”

Mylo rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you old farts can still have fun. You just don't know how to have real fun anymore.” Mylo then pouts. “I just... I miss how it used to be, you know?” He sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Before all that adult crap, when things were easier.”

“Easier,” Powder mutters, poking at the remains of her food. “Yeah, when we were broke and always hungry, real easy.”

Mylo reaches over and flicks her arm. “Easy doesn't always mean money, you dumbass.”

Powder scowls and smacks his arm back. “Don't call me a dumbass, you dumbass.”

“Then don't be a dumbass,” Mylo snaps back, smacking her again.

Powder smacks him again, harder. “Don't you dare call me a dumbass again.”

Before they can start another childish argument, Silco's voice cuts in. “Enough you two," he says, and they immediately grumble and fall quiet.

“Honestly, I sometimes wonder how the two of you aren't still in high school,” Vander says.

“That's an insult to high schoolers, they're more mature than those two,” Claggor jokes, earning him a smack to the head from both Powder and Mylo.

He yells and puts his hands up in surrender, “ow ow ow, ok ok! don't hurt me!”

Jinx and Mylo laugh, while Silco shakes his head. “See what I mean? Children.”

“And they both insist they're mature enough to be out in the real world, independent and capable,” Vander says, and Silco chuckles.

“They're still just as chaotic now as they were in high school,” Silco says dryly. “Nothing has changed.”

Powder and Mylo both glare at him. “Really? like you two were that much better in high school,” she grumbles.

Silco raises an eyebrow at that. “We certainly weren't as immature as some people,” he says pointedly.

“You guys were probably just as bad as us, you just don't remember."

There's a pause, and Silco and Vander exchange glances before Silco snorts. He tries to bite back a laugh, but it comes out anyway, causing Vander to burst out laughing as well.

“I can't-” Vander wheezes between laughs. “I can't believe... you actually…”

Silco doubles over, laughing even harder. After a moment, he manages to gasp out a few words. “Oh, if you only... if you only knew…”

Powder and Mylo exchange confused glances, while Claggor tilts his head. “What? what happened? what's so funny?”

The laughter finally dies down as Silco composes himself enough to speak. “Nothing, it's nothing,” he says, waving a hand.

“All right, all right,” Vander looks around the table. “I think most of us are done eating. Who wants to help with the dishes?”

There's a collective groan from the rest of the table. No one likes doing dishes.

Powder and Mylo immediately groan out a “not it,” and Claggor follows up with “You all know I'm terrible at dishes-”

“Don't look at me either,” Silco grumbles. Vander just sighs and shakes his head.

and that just leaves you and Vi... great, just great.

You're about to argue as well, anything to get out of being stuck in the kitchen with Vi, but she beats you to it. “Yeah, we'll do it,” she says, before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I-” you pause for a moment. You had been fully intending to dodge the chore, but now you can't without looking like an ass and leaving her alone to do dishes.

Vi stands up and picks up the nearest stack of dirty dishes, balancing them on her arms as she turns to you. She shoots you a look, like she's daring you to try and weasel out of helping.

You get the hint, shaking your head and standing up. This is absolutely the last thing you want to do right now.

You follow her to the kitchen, grabbing a few more dishes along the way.

She holds the kitchen door open for you, and you step into the little kitchen with its small stone countertops and simple appliances. You set the dishes down on the counter near the sink, turning to find Vi already rolling up her sleeves.

She's not looking at you, but when she starts to roll up the left side of her shirt sleeve, you swear you can see her eyes dart over to you for a split second.

You pause, staring at the side of her face. You can't tell if she's... no, you must be imagining things. 

She clears her throat, raising one eyebrow. “What, you're not gonna help?”

“No, no, I am,” you hurriedly say.

You're not going to look at her. Not at the way her forearm flexes when she reaches down to turn on the water, not at the way she bends over to grab some dish soap, and definitely not at the way her shirt tightens across her shoulders.

Yeah, you're definitely not going to look at her. Not at the way her fingers move when she soaps up the dishes, not the way her biceps flex when she bends her elbow, and especially not at the way her hair falls into her face when she scrubs at a stubborn stain.

Why is she so fit?

You look down at your own hands, watching the water and soap bubble up between your fingers. You start washing another dish, trying your absolute hardest to look anywhere except at her.

The minutes tick by in awkward silence, but eventually, your mind starts to wander. After all, washing dishes is pretty damn boring.

You glance over at her again, out of the corner of your eye, watching the way her shoulder blades shift under her shirt. The fabric of her shirt is stretched taut against her shoulders, and you wonder what she looks like under it if she still has all the same muscles....

Yeah, okay, you really have to stop staring at her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Well, so much for not looking at her. Your head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and you force yourself to just focus on scrubbing at the glass in your hands. 

“Depends what the question is,” you grumble, shifting a little.

You expect her to ask you something about your current life or something generic. What happened when you were gone, what life was like where you were?

Instead, she asks something completely left-field.

“Do you ever think about us?”

You tense up, the glass in your hands slipping a little in your grip. You were not expecting that question. Hell no, you were literally not expecting that question.

How are you supposed to answer that? yes? no? sometimes?

What was she even expecting to hear? did she want you to say yes, to say that you always thought about her, that you would've come back to her in a heartbeat if you could've? or did she just want to hear you say no, to hear that you moved on, that you had to move on because it was either that or let yourself fall apart?

‘Sometimes’ was definitely not the answer you would've given months ago.

Now, though? you would admit that sometimes, after a rough morning or a particularly lonely night, you'd let yourself think about her. You'd remember those nights you spent in her apartment, on her shitty couch, talking her ear off about everything and nothing, the nights where the two of you would sit on the couch and watch tv, her head resting on your shoulder, and you'd wonder if maybe... just maybe..

You wonder if she thinks about that kind of stuff too, if you cross her mind late at night when she's alone. You wonder if she still thinks about the nights where you would stay in bed together, talking for hours after a particularly good round, your head resting on her chest as she played with your hair, or the mornings where you'd wake up and find her making breakfast for you.

Yeah, you thought about her a lot.

But you couldn't say that to her. You can't tell her that you think about it all the time, about how sometimes you can't fall asleep because you miss the feeling of laying in bed with her, about how you always find your hands searching for her in the middle of the night. No, you absolutely cannot tell her that, no matter how badly you wanted to.

“I used to,” you say instead of letting your thoughts wander any farther. “Not anymore.”

You keep scrubbing, even after there's no longer any more dirt on the glass. Just so you have a reason not to look at her, just so you have a shield from the thoughts you know are brewing in her mind.

She's quiet, and you can feel her looking at you. Looking at you, reading you, trying to figure out if you're telling the truth or not.

After a few moments, she takes a breath like she's going to speak, but then stops herself. It's something you're all too familiar with. She's overthinking something, that much is obvious. She's trying to pick her words carefully, and damn, you just wish she'd spit it out.

The silence feels like it's been going on for a year, but really, it was only around a minute. Your knuckles are turning white from how tightly you're gripping the glass you're washing, and your shoulders are beginning to ache from how tense you are.

“What about you?” you murmur. “Do you... do you think about us?” You force yourself to look over at her, and you instantly wish you hadn't.

She's not looking at you now, she's not watching you suspiciously or anything like that. No, instead she's looking down, staring at the soapy water, and avoiding eye contact with you.

She's quiet for a second, her hands pausing in their scrubbing. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I do.”

Her answer goes straight to your gut and twists deep inside you. You were absolutely expecting a solid “no”, hell, you were even preparing yourself for a cruel “god, no.”

Anything, anything other than “I do.”

She continues scrubbing at a plate as if she hasn't just turned your world upside down. How are you supposed to react to her answer? do you say something, do you not say something?

“Why?” the question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Why do you think so?”

You don't say anything, you just shrug your shoulders. You genuinely don't know. You'd just blurted out the question without actually knowing what you wanted the answer to be.

Her eyes linger on yours for a few seconds, and you can't quite read them. She looks like she wants to say something, she looks like she wants to reach out and hold you, and you'd bet real money that if circumstances were different, she would've done exactly that.

Instead, she just averts her gaze back to the sink and lets out a sigh. “I don't know... I just do.”

You go back to scrubbing dishes. It's obvious there are a million things that you want to say, that you need to say.

“Oh,” is all you say in response, and the word hangs in the air awkwardly.

You're both quiet after that. It's quiet, except for the faint music playing in the background and the sounds of dishes clinking against one another.

A few times, you catch yourself glancing over at her, trying to pick up any hint of what she could be thinking, what she might say next. But, every time, she stubbornly keeps her eyes down on the dishes she's scrubbing. It's frustrating, the way she just won't look at you, and what pisses you off most is the fact that you understand why she won't look at you.

You have a feeling that if she were to look at you, if she were to meet your eyes right now, she'd either burst into tears or shove you into a storage closet and kiss you until your lungs burned.

You don't know which one would be worse.

It's so quiet, so awkward. You're both just scrubbing and scrubbing, refusing to look at the other.

Every time she takes a breath, you look over at her, convinced she's about to speak. But, time and time again, she doesn't, and the only sound to come from her is a shaky exhale.

It's maddening.

The sound of Claggor's voice finally breaks the stifling silence, and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. He peeks his head into the kitchen, grinning widely. “Yo, you two almost done here? Powder is about to get impatient.”

You're thankful for the interruption, and judging by the look on Vi's face, so is she.

“Yeah, we're done,” Vi says, glancing up from the dish she's been washing for the last ten minutes.

You dry your hands off on a nearby towel, trying to look unaffected. “We're finished.” 

Claggor grins again, “Thank God, Powder is about to start biting people.” He laughs, then disappears back into the main room.

“That sounds like her.” She chuckles, scrubbing her hands off on a towel.

“Guest we should head out there then,” you say, trying to get her to actually look at you.

She hesitates, still running the towel over her hands even though they're no longer wet. She looks down for a moment as if she's contemplating something, then finally lifts her head to look at you.

Her jaw is tense like she's forcing herself to stay quiet. After a few seconds, her features soften a little. “Yeah.”

You want to ask her what she's thinking, you want to ask her why. Instead, you just push the door of the kitchen open and gesture for her to go first.

—

“Now that we've had an amazing dinner, it's time for the best part of the night.”

Everyone gathers around, now sitting either on the couch or on the floor. Powder and Mylo immediately get squished together on the floor. Powder mutters under her breath, “Hey! you're shoving me!”

“Only because you're taking up too much space.”

Vander smiles from his spot on the couch. “Alright! It's time for secret santa. Everyone remembers who they drew, right?”

A group of nods and hums go around as everyone pulls out the slips of paper that have the names they drew.

Vander clasps his hands together. “Good!” he says as he looks around the room, his smile getting wider. “Who wants to go first?”

A few seconds of silence, then Powder’s hand shoots up. As always, she's the most excited one. “me!”

Vander laughs. “Well, look at that, our little girl is so eager. Okay, you can go first, Pow-Pow.”

Powder smiles and scrambles off the floor, almost tripping over herself as she pulls a present from beneath the Christmas tree. She glances down at the tag and grins.

She then scans the room with a giddy smile, then her eyes land on Silco. She bounds over to him, practically shoving the present into his hands as she sits down on the floor next to his legs. 

Silco smiles faintly as he takes the present. “Alright, let's see what you got me, hm?” He's quiet as he carefully unwraps the present, and Powder watches him who barely contains her excitement.

After a moment, the wrapping paper is set aside, and the present is now fully unwrapped. It's just a little box, though Silco is curious as to what's inside.

He glances at Powder as he takes the lid off the box, looking a little wary. Powder just grins at him. “Go on, open it,” she encourages.

He looks back at the box and, with a nod, reaches in and pulls out the item inside. He holds it in his hands and looks at it curiously, then looks at Powdr with a raised eyebrow.

She's still grinning, and she looks extremely pleased with herself. Mylo glances over to look and snorts out a laugh. “Would you look at that?”

Silco looks at the item in his hands, then looks at Powder again. “You got me…” he begins, trying to sound unimpressed. “...a shark plushie?”

Powder nods, her grin getting wider. “Yep!” she exclaims, “I got you a little shark plushie. You like it, right?”

Silco glances at the plushie and then at her again, looking vaguely fond. He carefully sets it down on his lap, then smiles. “I adore it.”

Her grin somehow widens even more. 

Silco chuckles, then looks around. “Who's next?”

Claggor shrugs, raising a hand. “I'll go,” he offers, to which Vander nods.

“Go ahead, Claggs,” he says approvingly.

Claggor gets to his feet from his spot on the floor, then moves to the tree. He crouches down and rummages around, looking for the present with the correct name tag.

A minute passes as a few minutes go by. He eventually stands back up, a small present in his hands. He looks around the room, then his eyes land on Mylo, who's now lying down on the floor and looking very bored.

Claggor moves over to him, tossing the present into his lap. Mylo looks up and catches the present, shooting him a glare. “You couldn't have done that a little nicer?” he complains while sitting up.

Claggor just shrugs and gives him a flat look. “Suck it up,” he tells him bluntly before sitting back down.

Mylo scoffs and begins to unwrap the present, ripping the wrapping paper off carelessly. He tosses the wrapping paper away, then looks down at the present as he tears the box open. He's quiet for a moment, looking at the contents...

..and then he groans, covering his face.

“Oh, come the hell on,” he grumbles, though he sounds more whiny than anything else. He glances up from his hands to give Claggor a withering look. “Dude, seriously?”

“What?”

Mylo just sighs, shooting the toy in the box with a dismayed look. “Really? a stress ball?”

Claggor shrugs. “I thought it was a good idea,” he says, clearly not bothered by Mylo's unimpressed tone. “And you seem to be lacking a bit in the stress management department.”

“Well, excuse me for being a bit stressed when you're being a dick.”

“See, you need the stress ball. You proved my point right there.”

Mylo just groans and throws his head back. He picks up the stress ball and squeezes it hard. “I hate you.”

Claggor merely grins. “I love you too.”

Mylo mutters something under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear, then looks up as he addresses the group. “So, who's up next? I'm sure there's some poor sap itching to go.”

Silco raises a hand. “I'll go next,” he offers.

Everyone glances at him, then nods and gestures for him to go. He gets up off the couch and saunters to the tree. He scans the presents beneath it, moving a few aside to find the one he was looking for.

He finally finds it and smirks to himself, grabbing the present and standing up. His eyes sweep over the group. He then turns and walks over to Vander, holding the present out to him.

Vander glances at the present, then at Silco, taking the present and curiously giving it a little shake. “What is it?” he asks curiously.

Silco just grins in a vaguely irritating way and sits back down. “Just open it,” he replies, his voice dripping with innocence.

Vander raises an eyebrow but begins to unwrap the present meticulously, occasionally shooting Silco a glance, as if expecting something. He peels away the wrapping paper to reveal a small box, then looks at Silco, his eyes questioning.

Silco just shrugs and gestures for him to go on. Vander quirks another eyebrow up but opens the box anyway, now intrigued.

Then a snort finally escapes him. He's now fighting to hold back laughter.

Mylo sits up suddenly, looking at Vander, then at Silco, curiosity in his eyes. “What? What is it?” he asks eagerly.

Vander doesn't answer for a moment. He's still staring into the box, looking like he can't believe what he's seeing. He looks up at Silco. “Please tell me you're joking,” he implores.

Silco's smile widens. “I couldn't be more serious,” he replies.

Vander lets out a long, suffering sigh, then digs through the tissue paper and pulls something out of the box.

It's a pair of comically large underwear, one that could practically fit an entire person inside of it.

Vander groans, holding the underwear up and staring at them with slight disgust.

Mylo and Powder both start laughing once they register what the present is. Powder laughs so hard she nearly falls over, clutching her stomach as she howls with laughter.

Vi's eyes widen at the sight of the underwear, her mouth dropping open a little in surprise. As much as it pains her to admit it... she just knows the jokes that Silco is going to start making any minute now.

…and she's right.

“You see, I thought it was a necessary gift.”

“Necessary?” Vander repeats, still holding the underwear up in disbelief.

Silco nods. “Of course. you're getting old, and as you get older... accidents happen.”

“I'm not that old,” Vander grumbles, though he knows it's probably not the best argument.

Silco smirks, raising a hand and waving it dismissively. “Oh, you know what I mean. Things begin to... fail as you age. I simply wanted to make sure you had a spare pair.”

Mylo is now practically rolling on the floor, clutching his sides. “Oh, my god, I can't breathe—this is—this is gold,” he wheezes. Powder is laughing so hard she's choking, practically coughing her lungs up.

Vander looks down at the underwear in his hands. He looks like he wants to throw it into the fire and destroy it right there. He glances up at Silco, giving him a look that clearly says, 'I will get you back for this'.

Silco leans back against the couch and crosses an ankle over his knee. “What? You don't like them? I personally thought they were a good choice.”

Vander opens his mouth to reply, but Powder interrupts him.

“Oh, god,” Powder chokes out, “you should try them on. They'd look perfect on you.”

Vander shoots Powder a glare to kill. “No way in hell,” he mutters firmly, folding his arms and sitting back.

But Powder's not done. “Come on, just try them on,” she wheezes. “It really would be a look for you.”

Vander turns his glare to Powder, his expression clearly saying, 'I will murder you if you keep talking.' “No,” he replies through gritted teeth.

Even Silco is starting to look amused.

“Just for a second,” she teases, “come on, just long enough for us to see. We won't even say anything.”

Van shoots a sneering look at both Silco and Powder. Eventually he lets out an exasperated grumble and stands up, mumbling something he heads into the bathroom with the underwear.

Mylo falls back onto the floor, clutching his stomach.

Silco is laughing too, watching as Vander heads to the bathroom to change.

Mylo is dying of laughter, gasping for air in between wheezes. “Holy shit,” he chokes out. “He's really doing it.”

It takes a few minutes, but the bathroom door swings open and Vander exits, looking like he regrets every decision he's made that led him to this. His face is as red as a tomato as he stomps back over to them in the gigantic underwear.

Mylo and Powder are losing it again, falling over and rolling on the floor with laughter.

Silco is smiling, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my,” he says, barely containing his amusement. “They look even better than I imagined.” 

Vander can hardly look anyone in the eye, still red with embarrassment. “I hate you. I hate you all.”

Claggor looks at Silco and Powder, clearly trying not to laugh. “You guys are terrible,” he says, a trace of a smile on his face.

Vi can't hold back her laughter anymore, she's grinning from ear to ear. “You look... perfect,” she comments through a strangled chuckle.

Vander turns his glare on her. “I hate you all,” he repeats, shaking his head.

Powder is still giggling from the floor. “I want pictures.” She holds up her phone.

Vander looks like he wants to smack her head off. “Absolutely not. I forbid it,” he snaps, sounding as serious as someone wearing comically large underwear can.

Powder just pouts, lowering her phone. “Oh, come on,” she says with a whine, looking up at Vander with puppy-dog eyes. “Just a few.”

“No, I'm not having pictures of me in these... embarrassing things circulating the internet.”

“The internet? Who said anything about the internet?” she replies, a smirk on her face. “I just meant... a few for my own personal, um, research.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but Silco chimes in first. “Oh, come on. Humor her. It's the season of giving.”

Vander turns his glare to Silco. “There's no way in hell—”

“Pleeeease?” Powder interrupts, holding out her phone again.

Vander looks like he's about to argue, but Powder is already giving him those damn puppy-dog eyes that he struggles to resist. He hesitates, then, with a grumble, he sighs. “Fine, one picture.”

Powder looks like a kid on Christmas. The instant the word 'picture' leaves Vander's mouth, she leaps to her feet and lifts up her phone. “Stand up straighter.”

Vander obeys, reluctantly straightening up.

“Say cheese.”

Vander grunts, but he cooperates. “Cheese,” he mutters, putting on a strained smile.

Powder snaps the picture, then lowers her phone and looks at it with a satisfied smile. “Oh yeah, you're getting on the naughty list for this one,” she grins, wiggling the phone a little.

Once the picture-taking is over and Vander changes his clothes back, Silco motions for Powder to settle down. 

“Alright, settle down. It's time to continue with the secret Santa,” Silco says, looking at the others.

They all nod in agreement, still snickering but mostly focusing on the present exchange.

“Who wants to go next?” Silco asks, looking around the group.

Mylo looks around, then grins. “My turn.”

Powder rolls her eyes, knowing that look on his face all too well. “Here we go,” she says, preparing herself for whatever nonsense Mylo is about to come up with.

Mylo smirks, holding up his present. “Well, I drew someone's name... and it was a pretty easy choice.” He then looks around the group with mock innocence. “Oh, where's my victim?”

Claggor sighs. “Who exactly is the unlucky person this year?”

“There's only one person who I could have possibly chosen…”

“Would you just spit it out before the suspense kills me?” Powder snaps, impatient.

Mylo huffs. “Jeez, have some patience. Anyway, my secret santa is…”

Claggor puts his head in his hands, bracing himself.

“My secret santa is, drumroll please…” They reluctantly drum their hands against any surface near them.  “My very special secret Santa is…”

Mylo grins, looking from face to face, savoring the moment before he does the big reveal.

“My secret Santa... is Powder!”

“Fuck!” She groans, burying her head in her hands.

“Aww, what's the matter, Pow?” Mylo grins, holding up the wrapped present.

Powder lets out another groan, glaring up at him. “You're the worst,” she mutters, looking like she's praying to any god out there to just put her out of her misery already.

Mylo grins, getting a kick out of her misfortune. “Come on, don't be like that. It could be worse, I could have gotten you a box of spiders,” he teases, shaking the present in her direction.

Powder looks like she's seriously considering that as a better option. “You know what? Give me the spiders. Spiders would be better than whatever it is you got me.”

“Nice try. You're not getting out of it that easily,” he says, holding the present just out of her reach. “You have to open it, come on.”

Powder grumbles in protest, then reluctantly reaches out for the present. She snatches it out of his hands, shooting him a glare. “If I die from this, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life,” she mutters, slowly tearing the wrapping paper.

Then, Powder tears back the last piece of wrapping paper, revealing a plain black box. “What the hell is this?”

“You're going to have to open it and see for yourself.”

Powder grumbles, giving Mylo a glare that could freeze hell over. She slowly opens the black box, not sure what to expect. “...Please tell me this is not what I think it is.” 

The others lean in closer, curiosity getting the better of them.

“You did not get me what I think you got me.”

“Oh, you're going to have to be more specific than that,” he replies, trying to hide his smirk.

Powder glares at him, her jaw clenching. “You know what I'm talking about,” she snaps, looking like she's contemplating dumping the contents of the box over his head.

Mylo just shrugs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I honestly have no idea what you're talking about.” 

Vander just rubs his face with one hand, knowing that this situation is about to spiral out of control.

“You're telling me,” Powder hisses, “that you didn't get me exactly what I think you got me?”

“Like I said, you'll have to be a bit more specific,” he responds, looking too smug for his own good.

Powder looks like she's about to explode. “Mylo, I swear to-”

Claggor cuts her off, knowing that she's about to blow her top. “Calm down, Powder,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I'll calm down when the box goes straight over his head.”

“Why so angry? I thought you'd be excited.”

“I can't wait to make you eat that box.” 

“Oh, I'm so scared.”

Vander interjects, trying to diffuse the tension. “That's enough. No need to start throwing things around.”

“I was just having fun.”

“Yeah, have fun with a black eye.”

“Enough,” Silco says, giving both Powder and Mylo stern looks.

Both Mylo and Powder grumble, reluctantly backing down a bit.

“Can we all just get back to opening presents, please?” Vander asks, exasperated.

The others nod in agreement, though Powder still looks like she's not done with Mylo yet. She glares at him one last time before reluctantly returning to her seat.

Mylo just grins, clearly enjoying having gotten the last word in. He takes his own seat next to Claggor.

The others exchange glances, silently agreeing to not let Powder and Mylo be too close to each other for the rest of the evening.

Silco clears his throat, getting everyone's attention. “Now, who's next?” he asks, looking around the room.

Vander nods, leaning back in his seat. “I'm up next, I guess.” He rummages at the gifts under the Christmas tree. After a few moments of searching, Vander finally finds the present he was looking for. He picks it up, holding it in his lap. “This one's for you,” he says, handing the present to Claggor.

Claggor takes the present, looking curious. He glances down at it, then looks up at Vander with a smile. “Thanks,” he says, starting to unwrap it.

Once the wrapping paper is off, Claggor is holding a box of assorted tools. They range from pliers to wrenches to screwdrivers.

“Just like you requested,” Vander says, watching as Claggor starts inspecting the tools.

“Wow, these are great. Thanks, dad,” he replies, running a hand over the tools in the box.

Vander smiles, pleased to see that Claggor likes his present. “I thought you'd like them. I saw them at the pawnshop the other day and figured you could use them.”

“I definitely will. These are a huge upgrade compared to what I have now.”

Vander reaches over and pats Claggor on the shoulder. “You deserve it. You've been working your ass off lately.” He looks around the room, looking for the next person to take their turn. “Alright, who's up next?” 

Mylo's head suddenly snaps up, a smirk on his face. “Oh goodie, it's Vi's turn.”

“Come on, Vi, your turn,” Silco says, looking a little amused.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses,” she mumbles, getting to her feet and making her way over to the christmas tree.

Vi crouches down, rummaging through the presents. After a few moments, she finally finds the present. She grabs it, standing back up. She looks over at you, looking like she's been caught doing something she's not supposed to do.

She makes her way over to where you're sitting, holding out the present. “Here, this one's for you.” 

You take the present from her, looking down at it. It's heavy in your hands, the wrapping paper slightly crinkled from how hard she was holding it. “Thanks, Vi/” You look up at her.

“Don't mention it, babe,” she mutters, her voice strained.

Powder and Mylo both let out a chorus of ‘aww’ when they heard her use the nickname.

“Shut up, you two,” she says, glaring at them both.

You start unwrapping the present, tearing off the wrapping paper to reveal what's inside.

Once the wrapping paper is off, you're holding a small box. It's plain, made of brown cardboard, and doesn't look like much. But as you look back up at Vi, you can see a hint of nervousness on her face.

She's watching you intently, her expression anxious. 

Still curious, you glance back down at the box in your hands. You lift off the lid, opening it slowly.

There, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, is a necklace. It's a silver chain with a small silver heart pendant. It looks delicate and beautiful, and judging by the look on Vi's face, she spent a lot of time picking it out.

You slowly reach into the box, lifting the necklace out of the tissue paper. You hold it up, letting the chain dangle from your fingers. It glints in the light, the pendants catching the glow from the Christmas tree lights.

Vi is still watching you, her eyes fixed on the necklace. “Do you like it?”

You look up from the necklace, meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I do,” you respond. “...It's beautiful.”

You hold the necklace in your hand, running your thumb over the pendant. Without even thinking, you reach up and clasp the necklace around your neck.

It fits snugly against your skin, the pendant resting on your collarbone.

You look up, catching Vi watching you as you adjust the necklace. “Looks good on you.” 

“Thanks,” you reply, still running your thumb over the pendant.

Mylo and Powder both let out another chorus of ‘aww’ clearly touched by the sight.

Vi shoots them another glare, her eyes narrowing. “Would you two shut up, for Christ's sake?”

“Oh, come on, sis. It's cute” Powder teases.

“Ah, young love,” Silco says. 

Vander chuckles, nodding his head. “I remember my younger days.”

“Don't you mean your younger hookups?” 

Vander grins, holding his hands up. “Guilty as charged.”

Silco laughs, shaking his head. “Some things never change.” Then, he glances around the room, looking for who's turn it is next. “Lasty, who's next?” 

You look around, seeing that almost everyone has given out their gift. It's obvious that your turn is next. “I'm up next.”

You get to your feet, making your way over to where the presents are. then you hold the present in your hands, not looking up quite yet. You can feel Vi's eyes on you.

This is it. You take a deep breath and look up, meeting her gaze. 

You walk over to her, your heart beating faster. You feel nervous, but you try to push it down. You stop in front of her, holding out the present. “Here you go, babe.” 

Vi's expression softens, her eyes darting down to the gift in your hands. She reaches out and grabs it, looking slightly puzzled.

You watch silently as she unwraps the gift. 

“Is this... a sweater?” she asks, bewildered. It's clearly hand-knit, with uneven stitching and a clashing color scheme.

“I made it myself,”

“You made it? Like, with your own two hands?”

“Obviously...”

“I mean... it's…”

“It's hideous?” you suggest.

She winces, like she can't deny it. “Yeah, kinda…” 

“Hey,” you say, mock-indignant. “I spent a lot of time making that, you know.”

“I can tell.”

“Then, try it on.”

Vi hesitates, looking at you warily. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You nudge her. “Just try it on… for me.”

She sighs, realizing there's no way out of this. “Fine.”

She pulls it over her head, struggling to get her arms through the sleeves. The fit is awkward, and the sweater seems too small. But somehow, it kind of makes her look... cute?

She tugs at the sleeves, looking down at herself. “How do I look?” 

You pretend to look her over, like you're seriously considering the question. “I dunno,” you reply. “it's... something.”

“Be serious. I look like an idiot, don't I?”

“Don't be like that” you tease, reaching out to straighten the collar of the sweater. “It's not that bad.”

“Not ‘that bad?’” she repeats. “Are you kidding? I look like a walking Christmas tree.” She groans, tugging at the sleeves again.

“I think you look…” cute. adorable. “Fine” “That's the best you've got? 'fine?'”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know… Something more than just ‘fine’”

“Okay, okay, let me rephrase that, you look…” beautiful, cute, adorable. “...very christmas-y”

“You really know how to boost a girl's ego.”

“I didn't realize you needed your ego stroked.”

“I don't,” she protests, flustered. “I'm just saying, a little bit more enthusiasm would be appreciated.”

Silco clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “Ahem, now that the present giving is concluded…”

Silence falls over the room as everyone waits for Silco to speak. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock is the only sound that can be heard.

Silco glances at the clock, a smile on his face. “It appears to be midnight,” he says, pausing for emphasis. “Which means…”

A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” rises up from the group, everyone sounding festive and cheerful. 

You look back to Vi, who is still fiddling with the sweater. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper, not wanting the others to hear.

She glances at you, a smile touching her lips. “Merry Christmas to you too,” she replies, her voice just as quiet as yours.

Awkwardly you glance down at the carpet, unsure of what to say next. 

“Hey,” she says suddenly. “Can I talk to you for a second…? In private?”

“Sure,” you agree, following her as she leads you away from the group.

She leads you into a small back room, closing the door behind her. The room is dimly lit, with only a few bare light bulbs lining the walls. Aside from a few boxes and some old crates, the room is empty.

She turns to face you, leaning against the wall. She's quiet for a moment, her gaze averted to the floor. you can tell she's trying to find the right words, fiddling with the hem of the sweater again.

“Listen,” she begins, finally meeting your eyes. “I know this is weird, and I know things are... difficult right now. But…” She pauses. “I just want to say one thing…”

“Go on,” you encourage.

“I…” she starts, then falters. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Her gaze drops to the floor. “Well, I just…” her fingers fumble at the edge of her sweater. “I just... I miss you.”

Your heart skips a beat as she finally says the words out loud.

You've been wanting her to say that for weeks, months even. After everything that's happened between the two of you, you desperately wanted to hear those very words fall from her lips. But now that she's saying it...

What the hell do you say to that?

You're speechless, stunned into silence by her honesty. You open your mouth, intending to say something. But words seem completely lost to you at this point. You just stand there, staring at her, dumbfounded.

“Say something,” she says. “Say anything. You're just staring at me like an idiot.”

“I don't know what to say.” Because, you really don't know what to say. You have so much you want to say, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat.

“Say you hate me. Say you never want to get back together. Just... say something.”

She's waiting. Waiting for something, anything. An opinion, a response. Anything from you. But what can you say? Do you tell her the truth—that you've missed her so much you can't even sleep at night? that the last month has felt like a living hell, having no contact with her?

You want to tell her that you hate her for throwing you away just to come back around wanting something from you again, but your tongue feels like cotton.

“Say something… yell at me, curse me out, anything!”

But her tone gets under your skin, and suddenly you feel the anger start to build inside of you. 

Who does she think she is, demanding a response from you? she's the one who tossed you aside without a second thought. You're sick of this. You've done everything for her, given her everything she wanted, and here she is, pushing you for more.

It is too much—all too much. Without a word, you turn from her, heading toward the door. You can't do this anymore. 

You hear her call out your name as you shove open the door, but you don't stop. You make your way back, stopping at Vander's side. “Vander, I'm going to head out.”

Vander nods, giving you a knowing look. He can tell something's going on, but he's wise enough not to press the issue. “Alright, kid,” he says gruffly. “Get some rest, yeah?”

You nod your head, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I'll try,” you say, giving him a wave before starting towards the exit.

When you pass by Silco, he gives you a curious look. You catch his gaze and give him a nod.

Finally, you make your way out the front door. The cold night air hits your face, making you shiver. You take a breath, preparing yourself for the walk home.

But then you hear the door swing open behind you, her footsteps hurry after you. “Wait!” her voice calls out. “Wait, stop!”

You keep walking, your steps quick. You're trying to get as far away from her as possible to outrun all of the feelings that came rushing back to you—

“Let me walk you home.”

Her words cut through your thoughts. You falter, your steps slowing down.

You stop walking, turning around to face her. “What?”

She's standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. Her shoulders are slumped, her expression sheepish. She can tell you're not happy she's followed you out here, but she looks like she doesn't care.

She lets out a huff, her breath coming out in a white cloud in the cold air. “I just... look, whatever happened in there, whatever happened between us... just let me look out for you. Just let me walk you home. I.. I have to know you're safe.”

“I don't need a babysitter.” You practically growl, your irritation obvious. “I can handle myself.”

Vi flinches at your words, but she doesn't back down. If anything, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I know you can,” she says. “I'm not offering to babysit you. I'm just... I'm just asking to walk you home.”

You glance back at the entrance of their house, the warm lights and sounds spilling out into the cold night air.  You turn back to look at her, your voice softer this time. “You don't have to walk me home. We don't have to keep up the act anymore, I'm going home and... you've got better things to do than worry about me.”

“Screw the act. I'm walking you home. It's not up for debate.”

You stare at her, baffled by her insistence. “Seriously? What's the point, Vi? We're not together anymore. Why bother?”

Her jaw clenches, her shoulders tensing. You know she hates this. She hates hearing you say it. Her heart is on her sleeve, and you're tearing pieces out of it, right in front of her.

“Because I care!” she snaps. “Maybe it's hard for you to believe, but I still care about you.”

You shake your head, scoffing at her words. “No, no, no, you don't get to act like you care now. You're the one who broke up with me. You're the one who walked away and left me.”

“I made a mistake,okay? I was a damn idiot, and I screwed up.”

“A mistake?” you echo, scoffing again. “You ended everything, and now you want to walk me home? What, you think that makes up for everything? You think it’s that easy? You threw away everything we had like it meant nothing, like all those months we spent together meant nothing.”

Your voice is trembling with anger as you continue. “And then what did you do? You went around, throwing yourself at anyone that gave you a second glance, like I was nothing. Like I never meant anything to you. Yeah, I know all about that. So don't try to act like you actually care when you clearly didn't give two shits.”

She looks away, her jaw clenching. “I was trying to get over you. I was trying to push you out of my head and it hurts like hell. Every night, every morning, it was like there was a hole inside of me, and no matter how hard I tried to fill it, no matter how many times I went out, how many times I tried to forget you, nothing worked. You were stuck in my head, and I hated it.”

She takes a step closer to you. “I know it sounds stupid. I know it doesn't make any sense. I just... I needed something to distract me, something to keep me from thinking about you. Because it hurt too damn much to think about how much I messed things up.”

“Yeah, congrats. You did a damn good job at distracting yourself, huh? It sure as hell didn't take you very long to get over me.”

She winces again, the guilt written all over her face. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out to you. How many times I thought about coming back to you and begging you to take me back.”

“But you didn't,” you say. “You didn't reach out to me, you didn't try to fix things. So why should I believe you now? Why should I believe that you're sincere when you didn't care enough to fight for us before?”

She looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “What was I supposed to do?” she whispers. “I messed up. I messed things up and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to take back what I did, how to make things like they were before I messed up. All I know is that I miss you. I miss you so damn much, and I'd do anything to have you back.”

You swallow hard. Everything she's saying, it's everything you've wanted to hear for months. It feels like a dream.

But you can't let yourself fall back into this. Not when you've worked so hard to move on. Not when you've spent so many nights crying into your pillow, reminding yourself that she didn't care enough to fix things, to fight for you.

“Why now—Why do you want me back now, after all this time? Why didn't you want me back when it mattered, when I needed you?”

She looks up at you, desperation in her eyes. “Because I was an idiot! Because I was stupid, and scared, and I thought walking away would make it easier, but it just made it worse. Because I spent every damn night regretting that I let you go and wishing that I could take it all back. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry for what I put you through.”

“Sorry doesn't fix things,” you say, your voice shaking. “Sorry doesn't take away the pain, sorry doesn't undo what you did.”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know saying sorry won't magically fix things, but I am sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for walking away, I'm sorry for everything I did wrong. Just... just give me a chance. Give me a chance to make things right.”

She takes another step forward, her eyes pleading. “Give me a chance. Let me prove to you that I love you and that I want to make things right. If I screw up again, you can toss me to the curb and never speak to me again. But please, just give me one more chance.”

“I don't know,” you murmur. “I just... I don't know.”

“I'll do anything. I'll get on my knees every day if I have to. I'll beg on my hands and knees. I'll crawl on my hands and knees. I'll grovel on the ground. Just... please, just give me one chance.”

“I'll think about it. Just...just give me some time to think things over.”

“Okay, okay. I'll give you time or whatever you need. Just please don’t shut me out completely.”

Without hesitation, she envelops you in a tight hug. Her arms wrap around your waist, her face burying into your neck. Her body clings to you, every part of her desperate and needy. “I miss you so much,” she mumbles.

You stand awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But then, your body betrays you, your arms slowly wrapping around her.

For the first time in a long while, you're holding her again. Her warmth, her scent, her touch—it’s all so familiar, so painfully familiar. So damn familiar that it hurts.

“I hate you.”

“I don't blame you.” She pulls back, her hands coming up to cup your face. She lifts her hand, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I hate you so much,” you repeat, a tear falling down your cheek.

“I deserve that,” she says, her thumbs wiping away your tear.

“Damn right you do.”

You have no idea what to do or what to feel. Everything is a mess, and you're drowning in it.

For now, all you could do was hold her tight and bury your face in her shoulder. 

You hated how good she felt against you and how right it felt to be held by her. 

Damn her for making things so confusing, for making you feel so damn much.

You felt her hand rubbing your back, her fingers tracing circles over your skin. It was a soothing gesture, a silent apology for all the pain she had caused. It only made things worse, making your heart ache even more.

If only things had been different. If only she had been more communicative. If only she had been more sensitive to your feelings. If only she had been there for you when you needed her.

If only she hadn't walked away and left you broken. If only she hadn't hurt you the way she had.

And most of all, if only you had been strong enough to push her away and protect yourself from this mess.

But here you are, standing in the middle of a street wrapped in her arms. You felt like a fool, like a damn idiot, for still wanting her after everything.

You wanted to hate her, you wanted to make her suffer the way you had suffered.

But how could you hate her when she was looking at you like that? how could you hate her when she was holding you like this?

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she still had this kind of effect on you. 

Her eyes met yours, and you saw everything you had missed, everything you had longed for. and you knew, right then, that you were in damn trouble.

—

In the window, Vander and Silco watched you and Vi from afar, the soft glow of the christmas lights casting shadows over their faces.

Silco takes a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he exhales. “Your little plan worked quite well,” he says, looking at Vander with a sly smile.

Vander just shrugs, sipping his drink. “I don't know what you are talking about,” he replies, keeping his expression neutral.

“You're not fooling anyone.”

Vander hums, taking another sip of his drink. “I don't know what you mean,” he says again, keeping his gaze locked on you and Vi.

Silco let out a puff of smoke. “Don't play coy, Vander. You knew damn well what you were doing when you rigged that secret santa.”

“I may have had a little influence,” he admits.

“A little influence? oh, don't downplay it. You wanted them back together, and you knew exactly how to make it happen.”

“I have had a hunch that they still cared about each other,” he says, his voice casual. “And plus, I don't want to see Vi moping around for the past months.”

“And we couldn't have that, could we? seeing her moping around like a lovestruck puppy.”

Vander nods. “She was really terrible at hiding it,” he says. “always pacing around, always looking like she lost a puppy.”

Silco takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing rings into the air. “It was painful to watch,” he says, shaking his head.

“It was like watching a kid trying to hide a secret… I just hope they figure things out.”

“I agree,” Silco says, his eyes flickering over to you and Vi. “Hopefully they can work things out.”

“Only time will tell.”

They watch in silence, seeing how you and Vi are still holding each other.

“I still wouldn't forgive you for that damn underwear you got me.”

“That was the funniest thing you could have received.”

Vander grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Silco. “I do not find it funny to receive underwear as a gift.”

notes: idk what is happening

[willaminareads]

too busy

PARING: exhusband!drew x reader

SUMMARY: you and drew had been divorced for a little under a year now. while drew had your two kids this weekend, zach unfortunately let it slip, that mommy had a new "friend". drew was anything but thrilled.

WORD COUNT: 667 words

WARNINGS: possesive drew, angst, fluff, cursing, kids.

WILLA SPEAKS: hey! this is my first fic, on this blog, and i'm so excited!! please note that english is not my first language, so if any mistakes occur, i'm so sorry! enjoy<3

you stand outside his door, waiting for him to open it. you were a little nervous. you didn't exactly have a reason to be, but you were.

"y/n," drew says as he opens the door. "hi, baby, come in. the kids are in their playroom." he ushers you inside, hoping you didn't notice he let the nickname slip. old habits die hard.

you smile softly at the nickname but quickly stop once you notice. this is your ex. hell, not even just your ex—your ex-husband.

you follow him inside his new house. you liked it, though it did remind you of the house the two of you once shared.

"can i get you anything?" drew breaks the silence.

"you have tea?" you ask softly.

"the kettle is already on, sweetheart," he responds in the same soft tone. god, he knows me so well, you thought.

he finds a cup for you and starts preparing the tea. silence falls between you. it wasn't awkward per se, but not exactly pleasant either.

drew is the first to break the silence, still keeping all his attention on your tea. "zach says you've got a new friend." his tone is sharp, not at all soft like the one you'd heard just a couple of minutes ago.

a quiet "oh," was all you could muster up. you didn't know what to say. i mean, what could you say?

he turns his attention to you, handing you the cup of tea. "yeah, that was my reaction as well," he says bitterly.

you sigh. "come on, drew, don't do this." guilt written all over your face.

he lets out a dry laugh. "i didn't do shit, y/n."

"i'm allowed to move on, drew," you say softly, catching his gaze.

"the fuck you are," he sneers, placing his hands on the countertop. "i can't, so you don't get to either." his statement hangs in the air as you stare at each other.

you scoff. "no, you don't get to do this, drew. you fucked up. you didn't have time for us," you say, knowing how to hit him where it hurts.

"don't say that." he looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

"why not, drew? it's true," you state. "you were too busy with your big dreams, and, i mean, it worked out for you," you say, waving your arms slightly. "you have everything a man could want," you taunt.

"you know that's not true," he glares at you.

you shrug. "you can't have your cake and eat it too."

he scoffs at your comment. "right, okay. you're getting on my nerves, y/n," he bites. "you know how much i wanted to make this work. you know how much i love you—"

you cut him off. "loved."

"no, fuck that, and fuck you for saying it," he raises his voice at you. he doesn't do that often. "i'm sorry..." he takes a deep breath. "you know that i still love you. i just want another chance, y/n. let me show you that we can make this work," he says softly, reaching for your hand.

you shake your head at him. "we can't put the kids through another divorce, drew," you say softly.

"we won't," he says. "come on, y/n. we can make this work."

you sigh. "drew..."

"please," he says, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.

"there's no new guy." drew stares at you, a little confused, waiting for you to continue. "that friend zach says he saw me with?" drew nods along. "it was chase."

"chase? as in my co-star chase?" drew asks, utterly confused.

"yeah... he and maddie came by to help me build a dresser." you bite your lip, your nerves taking over your body.

"oh," he falls silent.

"drew?" you ask.

"so, no new guy?" he asks with a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

"no new guy." you confirm.

"so... do you wanna marry me again..?" he asks.

"drew!" you exclaim with laughter as you smack his arm.