#despite my love for this pairing i’ve only written it three times??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jensettermandu · 10 months ago

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birthday wish - jennie kim

genre; smut, slight angst, fluff, smut with some plot

pairing; jennie x g!p reader

content; breeding kink, oral (reader giving), spanking, rough sex, degrading, humiliation, creampie (?), brattiness, probably missed something

synopsis; it's her birthday and she only has one wish

wc; 17k+

masterlist

a/n: this was written in two days, sorry if it is not up to standard with my usual writing. i forgot about the bday since i don't usually write for anything special for them

Loud music, drinks (many free ones), dancing, and partying in a way she hadn’t been able to do in a couple of months. She was finally able to party like a teen which had been hard. Jennie had turned 28 and was reaching her peak yet at some point everything had turned sour and bitter in her life. It wasn’t unusual, things would always go up and down and she was old enough to accept it.

What was a lot harder to accept was the break-up she had with her ex-girlfriend about four months ago. The concept of not being good for each other, that loving wasn’t enough if they brought out these bad sides of jealousy, possessiveness, and the fights it would cause. It was a tough fall to break up with someone who she had started seeing when she was in her early 20s–22 to be exact and broken up with later on. That was someone she had spent half of her tweenies with.

That person who she had been at a peak with, who always made her feel like a teen in love. Who flew her through the sky, into a new universe and now had her crash back down to earth after a high that lasted for five years. Five years had been bumpy, but it didn’t matter if they had been trying all the time. There was only so long they could go off of feeling like teens when they were adults. At some point the fun had to be limited, or did it have to be? Did she have to grow up?

It was her Birthday.

Jennie and her friends had pre-gamed before they went bar hopping.

The idea?

They couldn’t wait for Jennie to get laid now that she was over her ex-girlfriend who they liked to call an asshole. Jennie would argue about that because she wasn’t an asshole. She just loved too hard and so did Jennie. An asshole wouldn’t be able to give Jennie the best years of her life despite having many more to come, nor would an asshole be able to give her mind-blowing sex.

The sex.

Jennie had found herself horny for the past month.

Jennie had found herself pathetically wasting money on sex toys that sufficed for the moment, but not long term.

All that, but she hadn’t been able to go out and meet someone to hook up with.

She was scared she would get disappointed and feel like only one person could satisfy her truly.

The woman wasn’t supposed to be running back to her ex after crying for two months straight, and then managing to slowly start functioning normally on the third and now was the fourth and she was out partying–looking to get laid and fully forget her ex by finding someone who could fuck her good enough.

Fuck it out of her mind, leave her memories a blur.

It was the third place they had been to.

“Anyone hot yet? We’re not leaving until you leave first because you’re going to drop your panties for a stranger.” Lisa was right by her ear as she spoke, shot still in her hand as the dozen girlfriends that Jennie was with had just been served another round.

“You have to lose your post-breakup virginity, babe.” Jisoo came from the other side and spoke into her ear, making Jennie giggle at the slurred words of the drunk woman.

“I’m literally on it, I’ve been standing and looking pretty the whole night,” Jennie argued as she wasn’t the one to walk up to someone.

“To sex!” Lisa’s words earned squeals and shouts from the other girls, Jennie drowned herself in yet another shot. Her world was slowly starting to spin, knowing that in three more shots, she would be perfectly drunk. That type that left her euphoric and not blackout drunk.

“I will be back.” Jennie found herself making it to the bathrooms, there was no line fortunately for her as she walked in. The music was still making her body vibrate despite being muffled in the bathroom that was filled with the chatter of girls in the cubicles and by the sink.

She was trying her best, but it was difficult to just throw herself back out there. There were plenty of fish in the sea, but the deep waters would always be scary and she had just managed to dip herself in it.

She reached into her purse after finishing her quick business as her phone had started to buzz. Her eyes squinted to read the texts that were a tinge blurry, all she could tell was that they were from her friends who had spammed the group chat and made it hard to understand what the topic was or why they were texting incoherent words to begin with.

“Jesus!” Jennie exclaimed at the bang that came on her door, making her shut her phone off right away. Her heart jumped at how scared she got and she planted her hand against the door for safety even if there were other people in the bathroom.

“Knock knock.” Her heart jumped much higher now.

“Y/n?” She questioned the voice that was all too familiar and made her whole body feel like jelly from the second she heard it.

“Hey, sexy.”

“No, definitely not, Y/n–get the fuck away from me.” It was like a disease if Y/n touched her. She would get infected right away.

Fun fact: Jennie lied to her friends when she said that she was over Y/n.

“Happy Birthday, Jen–”

“Please, we’re over, I do not want to see you and you know it, Y/n.” Jennie was desperate for the girl to leave. Her night had been perfect and now that Y/n had appeared from nowhere, she knew what mistakes she would make and how the night would get better because she missed Y/n. The easiest fish to catch for Y/n was Jennie, she reeled her in with ease.

It never was a messy breakup as they agreed on it, but it still took a toll because despite knowing that they at times were no good for each other, they still loved strongly. They loved each other stronger than anyone else, even their families didn't get that kind of love and Jennie loved her mother dearly. Which also made it an easy decision that was hard to go through with.

“Do I? I know that I want to see you, Jennie. I am quite sure you want to see me too.” Jennie heaved a sigh, staring at the stall door while fighting all these urges. She wanted to convince herself that she would stand in this cubicle until her death just to avoid Y/n. That if she walked out of it she would walk right past her and not look back because they were supposed to be looking at their future.

This was the woman Jennie had planned a future with.

She would let Y/n spit that addicting poison right back into her mouth, there were still remnants of it left as she hadn’t moved on.

She unlocked the cubicle.

God, Jennie was weak, as in literally and metaphorically.

Y/n blocked the way as she stepped inside the cubicle and closed it before locking it too. She leaned back against the door and her eyes took in Jennie to the fullest.

The brunette widened her eyes and looked up at the girl who was younger by a few months as she had that usual enigmatic smile that always made Jennie curious about what she was thinking. That always drew Jennie in and made her cling to her and ask about it all, the answers were always the best. Her face was still as perfect as when they met, those eyes that would always gaze with adoration, perfectly plump lips, upturned nose, her slim figure, and all that Jennie always was attracted to when it came to her looks. Although, it had always been far more than just her looks that Jennie was attracted to.

“Sexy was no joke–” Y/n stopped talking, realising that she hadn’t seen her in four months after seeing each other every day for the past five years and living together for the past three and a half. The cubicle was getting Jennie’s scent trapped, the one that made it possible to sleep at night and Y/n had to spray her sheets with it unless she wanted more sleepless nights. The woman was dressed simply yet she made it look complicated with her beauty, a backless top, and black cargos, her figure shown off. Black had always been her colour and Y/n had always loved her in black, from clothes to lingerie.

Neither of them was over the other.

“Y/n.” Jennie said and her hands came up to plant themselves against Y/n's stomach when she stepped closer. Y/n smiled, her hand brushing over Jennie’s bare arm and it was enough to send shocks of familiarity and longing through the kitten's whole body. It was like it was shaking her from how electric it was, it was as if her body was charged right back up and coming back to life.

She sighed and suddenly took the few steps back that were needed for her back to touch the stall and make her somewhat squirm at how cold it was against her shoulder blades. It was overwhelming to have Y/n so close to her, their eyes stuck right together, those emotions of longing, and sadness, yet so much happiness at the back of it all of seeing one another again.

“It was so different waking up today with an empty bed and no Jennie to spoil from morning to night—it was more than an empty bed.” Y/n’s tone fell, one that was loud enough just for Jennie to hear. The slender fingers reached up to the face that held home on it, fingers running along Jennie’s jaw. It was still the same woman, the one Y/n fell in love with.

This was so bad for the Jennie who had lied about moving on.

This was so good for the Jennie who never wanted to move on.

Jennie grabbed hold of Y/n’s hand and removed it from her face, although she didn’t let go of it. It felt too good to hold her again. “How did you know I would be here? You weren’t looking for me, were you?” A sly and cheeky smile graced Y/n’s lips at the question. Out of the whole nightlife of Seoul she still somehow managed to run into her. It was the popular area in Gangnam, one they used to head to all the time, but still.

“No, not much better to do on weekends than to go out with friends now that I don’t have you. I knew it was your birthday, so all I did was hope that you would show up at this club at some point.” She had hoped she would at least catch a glimpse of her. It was shot in the dark as Seoul was big and it had been hours since they went out, but all she did was hope that Jennie would head out for her birthday–hopefully without anyone new.

“I’ve missed you–a lot.” Y/n was the first to admit it, her fingers intertwined with Jennie’s as she had never let go of her hand. She raised it before pinning it beside her head, taking that small step that left them dangerously close to each other. Jennie gripped Y/n’s black sweatshirt, unsure if she wanted to push her away or drag her closer.

“I’ve missed you too.” There wasn’t a single nerve in her body that could make her hold back on those words. Jennie looked down at Y/n’s lips as she had licked them. God knew how much she had missed her. It couldn't have been healthy. It made Jennie act out in way she hadn't done before. It made her feel crazy.

“Are you here with someone?” Y/n knew the question could have many answers, she was praying for one that didn’t involve someone who had replaced her. Could anyone replace her?

“With–” The answer came before Jennie could utter it herself.

“Jennie?” It was Jisoo.

Followed by Lisa. “Are you here?”

“You think she just left?” Chaeyoung questioned.

“Check the stalls?”

The two looked at each other. It would be bad news for Jennie if she was seen with Y/n in the same cubicle right now. There was no way she would be able to explain herself and even if she would be able to–was it bad that she didn’t want to leave just yet? Maybe the best gift she could have received on her birthday was to fill that hole that had been left after an important part of her life had left. Even for one night.

Their silent communication worked wonders still after being away for four months. Y/n stepped back, grabbing hold of the top of the stall as she got on top of the toilet seat while helping Jennie up by pulling her by her hand. The two somehow managed to squeeze on that seat, holding onto one another to not fall.

Even if it was just for a night, it would still make it another memorable birthday.

Jennie didn’t have to tell her friends about it.

“I swear to God if she left with her.” The two looked at each other at what Chaeyoung said.

“Are you sure it was Y/n?”

“Yes, I could recognise that little shithead from miles away.”

“What did you tell them–” Jennie covered Y/n’s mouth so they wouldn’t be heard by accident. It was baffling to the girl to hear Chaeyoung talk about her like that. Had they both agreed to a breakup if Jennie had talked bad about Y/n to relieve her gloom and anger?

“She’s over her.”

“Who knows anymore? It’s like she’s someone completely different without her and it’s not even in a good way.” Y/n’s eyes softened at the words that left Jisoo and Jennie hid her face in her arm as she was still covering Y/n’s mouth.

“Maybe she found a hookup and forgot to text–just send another message because she’s not here.”

The two waited for a good minute before they climbed down the toilet seat and Jennie opened her phone to see the text in the group chat. This time she scrolled up to see that they were all saying how Y/n was at the bar and they were waiting for Jennie so they could leave for a new one. She decided to text them about finding a hookup.

“What did you tell them to hate me so much?” Y/n questioned again and Jennie put her phone away.

“I was pissed okay–cut me some slack if you were the one to walk out the door,” Jennie grumbled and opened the stall as she walked out of it at last. Y/n followed right after her, picking up in her pace as the shorter girl took quick steps until she got to the countertop with the sinks.

“Hey, hey, I thought it was a mutual agreement to break up.” Now Y/n was confused because despite it feeling almost impossible to leave they agreed on it. She thought they both left with the same intentions and the same mindset. They loved each other, but at times it felt like they did love too much and it held them back.

“Yeah, it felt like I had no other choice but to agree when you suggested that we break up.” Jennie had tried to force that mindset on herself, to be on the same page because she knew what the problem was of being together and still living in the past. They needed to grow up. It was stupid, she did want to grow up, but she didn’t want to grow apart. It caused her temporary depression, anger, and frustrations which she took out by bad-mouthing Y/n to her friends. It hurt her to see the woman she had spent five years with just walk out the door as if Jennie hadn’t been a major part of her life.

“Are you angry at me because you didn’t tell me how you felt?”

“Yes, I am because what would it change if I said no? I thought you knew me well enough to understand that I didn’t want any of this, Y/n.” The latter was in disbelief at the words as she stood behind Jennie who was furiously washing her hands. It went quiet between the two of them, the only thing filling the silence was the muffled music and chatter of people around them. No one around them mattered though, they never did when they were together. It was like they were in a different world with each other.

Jennie stopped and held onto the counter, a frown on her face as she looked at Y/n through the mirror. She felt like a fool for being the only one, for thinking that Y/n would be able to read her mind. She knew that it was her fault too because it had been a suggestion and she agreed when she felt like there was no other choice. There was a reason why she had suggested it and Jennie knew that it was valid. She just didn’t want to go through with it and stupidly expected for Y/n to read her mind like some idiot.

“Come on.” Y/n didn’t answer the question. She couldn’t answer it because she didn’t want to hurt Jennie by making her realise the time they wasted away from each other. Y/n would have stayed. She only suggested what she thought would benefit them both, it did in one way as it let them realise what they truly needed.

They needed each other.

She grabbed her hand and Jennie was led through the club. She just let her steal her away. It was how they met and she would always let Y/n drag her anywhere like the first time they met at a party where Y/n dragged her away from it only to give her the most memorable night of her life by showing her how to let go.

“Jacket, why do you not have a jacket?” Y/n questioned as they stepped out of the bar and were met by the cold night of January with snow lying around.

“I left it in the car we came in.” Y/n shook her head while exhaling through her nose and removing the oversized leather jacket she had on.

“You’re being stupid–What’re you even planning to do?” Jennie questioned, Y/n was now left in the black loose sweatshirt as she moved behind Jennie. The girl looked back while putting her arms through the sleeves. She was confused, but she couldn’t just walk away. She had no idea what Y/n was planning on doing. They weren’t together, they were supposed to live their own lives, and she had no clue why she had stayed. What was the plan if they were broken up?

“It would feel wrong to run into you and not give you a gift on your birthday,” Y/n argued, coming back around and bending her knees slightly to grab the ends of the jacket to zip it up. Jennie was drowning in the warmth that Y/n had left after her together with the scent that she wanted to bury her face in. It felt like she would maybe regret it afterwards because she was quite sure they would go back to their new lives right after parting ways again. It would feel like the break-up all over again.

“I do not expect anything from you if we aren’t toge–” Y/n didn’t seem to listen to Jennie when she grabbed her hand and made her walk beside her. She didn’t hold her hand like they always used to do, but her palm rested against Jennie’s lower back to make sure that she wasn’t getting lost anywhere.

It was crowded with people, they were flooding from everywhere and Y/n kept walking without a stop. She was stuck with her gaze on Y/n who looked down at her with a small smile. It was enough to make Jennie’s world blind and her heart bounce in a familiar beat. Had she just broken Jennie’s walls down once again, but even quicker than she did the first time? It was frustrating. She let Y/n in so easily when she should lock her out, put up millions of walls, higher than the sky, with no way in or out.

“Y/n?”

There was so much she could tell her right now and she couldn’t tell how Y/n would respond to any of it.

“I know it’s a lot to ask for after everything, but could you do one thing for me, Jennie? To just forget everything for two hours, three tops.” Y/n interrupted all the questions Jennie would like to ask. She felt horrible to know the truth that they both agreed to something they thought the other wanted. Y/n never wanted to break up with her, but neither did she want to be an obstacle in Jennie’s life. The stupid little fights they had still hurt them both, the last thing Y/n ever wanted was to hurt Jennie, but she still somehow did.

She knew that she should have known, and maybe she did at the back of her head since she had known Jennie for over five years. Things sometimes just didn’t go as planned.

It wasn’t hard to forget when she was with her again. Y/n made everything bad go away.

“Fine, Y/n,” she still trusted her with her life. She'd jump right back into those deep waters where her only safety was Y/n.

“Okay, sit down right here and do not run away,” Y/n said after they had entered a convenience store. She pulled the stool out and guided Jennie to sit on it who was still busy figuring out what the girl was doing and why they had to pass so many other stores and stop at this one. With no other choice, Jennie sat and only glanced back at Y/n who disappeared between the shelves. There was slight anticipation growing in her the whole time, she stayed fiddling with her fingers as she rested her hands atop the table.

She stopped for a moment, grabbed the collar of the jacket that was oversized and pulled it up to her nose. The scent had washed off of her clothes at home, the clothes Y/n had left behind had been worn to where the scent no longer lingered on them and she had to wash them. It made Jennie curious how Y/n went through it.

Had she also been pathetically looking through endless photos in her gallery?

Drowned herself in Jennie’s scent?

Had Y/n finished the season finale of the series they had been watching together, but broke up right when the finale came out. Jennie had been waiting even if they weren’t together and would never get to know the end.

Had she been dwelling in all their plans for the future that now only was a past?

Had she been hurting just as much?

Jennie heaved a sigh and let go of the collar, reaching her hands up to her eyes as she knew that she wasn’t over Y/n. She was holding on, she was even out with Y/n even if it would feel like the break up all over again once Y/n would leave. Her fingers gently patted away the wetness that had warmed in her eyes. How did she let go of something that was securing her from falling off the ride?

It was time to stop dwelling when Y/n sat down right beside her on the vacant stool.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” The girl sucked air through her teeth and quickly put the noodle bowl down that was steaming. Jennie looked at what more she somehow managed to carry when she leaned over and dropped the things on the table.

“Since I am no chef, this is the best I could do and the ramen is how you like it.” She started while taking the ice cup and opening it. Jennie slid it over to herself and peeled off the lid fully. It was just ramen with Y/n making it fancier and better by adding more toppings; Jennie was desperate as she could never get it right since Y/n always made it for her the way Jennie loved it. It was just instant ramen, but it was her comfort food which hadn’t been the comfort she had been looking for. It would somehow suffice for now.

“Thanks.” She was a bit more than thankful, but she wasn’t sure how else she should thank her.

“Don’t thank me, it’s your birthday.” Jennie chuckled at that as she grabbed the chopsticks and looked at Y/n who poured the mango-flavoured iced tea into the cup with ice.

“Very thoughtful to drag me to a convenience store.” Y/n shook her head and picked up the cup, taking two big gulps before placing it back down.

“Yeah, God forbid I drag you to a fancy restaurant–don’t worry though…” Y/n trailed off and Jennie moved back slightly when she reached over to her. She smiled at Jennie, her face just a few inches away from Jennie’s as she reached over to the other side. Y/n’s hand reached into the right pocket of her jacket that Jennie had on while sitting on her left.

Jennie wasn’t sure what she wanted when Y/n was so close to her. One thing she was certain of was that she missed all of Y/n’s loving and caring touches, the ones that always touched her soul. Jennie missed being held in her arms, falling asleep with them around her. She missed the safety, the security that came from being in them, and the feeling of not having to be afraid to be herself because she trusted Y/n so much.

She grabbed what she was looking for with a sly grin as she pulled away. “If you celebrate, you have to celebrate right, don’t you?” Y/n let out in a more hushed tone that was still honeyed and Jennie could listen to her talking all day. That was something she had done because Y/n always had something to talk about.

The kitten parted her lips at the flask Y/n had taken out of her pocket, taking the cup down and placing it between her thighs. “Since when do you carry a flask around?” Jennie questioned, the last time she had seen Y/n with one was when they were still in college. It kind of worried her that maybe the girl had started drinking. Y/n let out a breathless chuckle, unscrewing the steel flask before filling the iced tea back up to the brim, but this time with tequila.

“Only today.” She reassured Jennie and lolled her head to the side to look at Jennie. That smile did not leave as she put the lock on, the flask back in the left pocket instead and she put the straw through the lock before mixing it up.

Jennie rolled her eyes as she, at last, started to eat the instant ramen that tasted better than most things she had ever eaten simply because it was made by Y/n. It also was something that killed all her cravings that were caused by the alcohol and food had simply never tasted better. Y/n always knew just what Jennie needed by looking at her. Yet she had somehow missed how Jennie never truly wanted to part ways.

“Just don’t inhale everything, I want a bite before you do.” Y/n laughed when Jennie elbowed her, making Y/n squirm away. “God, you’re rude.”

“Stop being a little piece of shit, Y/n.” Jennie seriously said and looked at Y/n who was already looking at her through her lashes with the straw in her mouth. “Not cute.”

“I tried.” Y/n said in defeat and handed the large plastic cup to Jennie who slid the ramen over to her with the chopsticks. “Oh, my bite is gonna come with extra flavours since there are Jennie germs in it.” Jennie hurt her throat when she swallowed the lump of iced tea with tequila before she could spit it out because she felt that huff before she giggled.

“Stop acting imbecilic.”

“Imbecilic, big words for a 28-year-old. I can say that I’m proud of you.” Jennie rolled her eyes and watched Y/n slurp up a bite of noodles with a hum after. “So good–”

“Don’t.” Jennie stopped her before she could say something stupid again and pulled the ramen back to herself. It was all coming right back, just being with Y/n for a few minutes, starting a conversation, and she was reminded all again why she loved her so much. How she made her feel so good about herself, how she cut Jennie slack by being herself which let Jennie drop all her guards down right away and be herself too. How she was back to feeling ten years younger and like she could just be herself for the night or whenever she got back home to Y/n–used to.

“Here, the monster is coming for your mouth, Jennie.”

“You did not just say that out loud Y/n.” Jennie giggled, the younger girl holding the gimbap and guiding it towards her mouth as it was still in one piece. Y/n gasped and looked at Jennie in disbelief. “Ew, why are you being dirty-minded, Jen.” She slapped Y/n’s shoulder, her cheeks hurting from how much she had been smiling and giggling. It didn’t matter if Y/n had asked her to forget everything for a few hours, Y/n automatically made her forget everything.

“You are, I didn’t say that I had something dirty in mind.” She defended herself. The two did not care about the rest of the people who went in and out of the store, or the people passing by the window. The radio played the most recent K-pop songs to fill the store, but all they could focus on were each other's words, giggles, and stares which were numbing all the pain.

Y/n grinned and shot her eyebrows up in a manner that suggested that the next words to leave her mouth would be far from appropriate as she still held the gimbap up ready to feed the feline. “Well, you can surely open wide enough for it to fit–” Y/n squeaked at the pain when Jennie this time hit her thigh, hitting a nerve because the pain made her hunch over.

“Not fitting at all.” Y/n chuckled at the words that came from Jennie and she looked up at her as she was still hunched over. “Is the joke not fitting or the gimbap?” Jennie groaned at that and Y/n sat up straight.

“Okay, here comes the train–Better?” Y/n asked.

Jennie hummed and opened her mouth as Y/n went back to trying to feed her a bite after they both devoured the noodles together. She grabbed hold of Y/n’s writs to make sure she aimed right and at last managed to bite off a piece. The latter reached over to Jennie’s face whose cheeks were fluffed out from having her mouth full.

Her finger brushed the corner of Jennie’s lips who only turned her head more to Y/n as she was used to it. The girl always fed her, always wiped her mouth, always knew what to order, what was needed in which mood. She scooped up the grain of rice and licked it off her thumb before poking Jennie’s cheek who whined.

“You’re still as cute when you eat, God I could squish the literal life out of you until there’s a bloody explosion.”

“That raises many warnings, Y/n,” Jennie mumbled as she swallowed the food at last and watched Y/n take a bite herself while Jennie took a sip of the iced tea that they had drunk a third off. It had made Jennie more than just a bit tipsy now, the drunk slowly incoming, but she didn’t mind as she could tell that Y/n was in the same state.

“It should because if I were to use enough pressure to squeeze you, you’d die.”

Jennie widened her eyes and slowly turned her head to the side to glance at Y/n.

“Why are you saying these things?” She questioned and Y/n fed her another bite.

“I don’t know, they are just these impulsive things that leave my mouth so be careful if they become actual gestures.” Jennie shoved Y/n who was laughing yet again.

The girl always did the most random gestures of affection towards Jennie. Say these words that were somewhere between cute and concerning, but Jennie loved it all. The way she would do more than just buy her flowers, all these small things Jennie had always taken notice of. She’d go as far as to perfectly place Jennie’s slippers beside the bed so she could slip them on right away when she woke up. Now Jennie’s slippers were mostly discarded messily because she always kicked them off when getting into bed with no Y/n to fix them.

“Hold on, or we will get there next week.” Y/n stopped and let go of Jennie’s hand that was clasped with hers, the older one swaying them back and forth as she was walking in a mix of steps, skips, and whatever else she was doing with her feet, dancing her way to the next destination which was slowing them down. Y/n needed to be there on time.

“You got me drunk.” Jennie sang out, shuffling in place with her feet.

“We’re in the same boat, Miss Kim.” The said girl giggled as she had been slowing them down by doing everything but walking. Y/n pulled Jennie to her by the jacket and she crashed into her.

“Where are you taking me?” Jennie questioned and Y/n turned around.

“Get on my back first.” She ushered and bent her knees.

“Want me to mount you like a stallion?” Y/n snorted at that.

“Who is dirty-minded now?”

“It’s a disease carried by you,” Jennie replied and grabbed hold of Y/n’s shoulders with her hands. She huffed and Y/n stumbled a step before managing to stabilise herself with her arms wrapping around Jennie’s thighs.

“Now I’m carrying a parasite–ouch.” Y/n winced when she got gently bonked at the top of her head before she looked to her side. Jennie peeked in with a smile on her lips, her arms loosely wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders whose eyes were creasing from her smile.

“Well? Walk, horsie.” Jennie ordered and gently nudged Y/n with her heel as if she were an actual horse.

She did start walking, making it out of the Gangnam district much quicker despite her legs needing some stabilising to not fall as her coordination was slightly off and she was carrying Jennie. The girl on her back rested her cheek against the side of her head, snuggling closer to Y/n to keep her warm as she still had her jacket on. She had already planned how to end up with the jacket at home because she knew that Y/n would walk her to the entrance of her apartment building at the end of the night. She never let Jennie walk alone at night, she’d always pick her up with the car if Jennie didn’t drive, or she’d walk with her. It didn't matter if Jennie was with friends or if Y/n was busy, she would always get there.

“Y/n…” Jennie mumbled, looking ahead as they continued to walk, Y/n adjusted the girl on her back as they were close to the destination. She hummed, glancing down at Jennie’s fingers to see the girl tugging on them and she could tell that whatever it was it was something that made Jennie worried or uneasy. “Did you–did you try seeing anyone during these four months?” She asked, dreading the answer because she had no clue how Y/n had spent these past four months. If she had spent two whole months crying, a month trying to leave the house without bags under her eyes or if she skipped all of it.

Y/n chuckled, giving her thigh a squeeze that made Jennie whine at the ticklish sensation. “God no, I’ve been staying with my mum at this big age and working from home. I didn’t leave the house and just stayed with mum even if she continuously scolded me.” She admitted. She hadn’t even thought about another woman aside from Jennie. Y/n couldn’t tell how many hours she spent in bed crying while listening to the 'Disintegration album by The Cure'.

Jennie felt relief wash over her to know that she hadn’t been the only one. It made her feel less of a fool and made her feel better. It was confirmation that they both took it hard because they both loved each other.

“What was she scolding you for?” She curiously asked.

“Not obvious for your little pea brain?” Y/n questioned.

“Never mind then,” Jennie grumbled, rolling her eyes and Y/n stopped walking.

“Get off me now–” Y/n wiggled Jennie off of her, the girl sliding back down onto her feet, her hands letting go of Y/n’s shoulders when she was fully off. It felt cold and if they were both honest neither of them wanted to pull away. “She scolded me for leaving you and said that I would never get the family ring to propose to the next girl I would meet because you were the only right one and worthy of having it.” It made Jennie’s heart drop as Y/n grabbed her hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. It hurt, it hurt them both badly to know that the planned future was in the past.

They had both agreed to wait for marriage and a family until they were at a perfect place in their lives. There was no such thing as a perfect place in their lives when it had been perfect ever since they met. The only thing they had to wait for was to finish studying and have stable enough jobs to start a family. Nothing could have been more perfect and they had waited long enough for a perfect moment to never come now.

Jennie sighed and looked down at her feet as she walked in sync with Y/n. The realisation of actually being 28 now hit her, and if she would ever move on, she’d be too old to start that family of two kids. Unless she would rush into it all. The anxiety started to eat at her as she had never processed what being 28 meant. What did it matter if she was working her dream job if she was earning money that let her live comfortably, if she was in a stable place in her life? When she wasn’t even close to stable in her love life that was dead.

“We’re here.” Jennie looked up from the void under her that was ready to swallow her as it had started to drag her down and had invited her to suffer with endless anticipatory fear. Over the five years she had spent her birthdays with Y/n, she had managed to forget how depressing they were. How anxious they had always made her. Another year had just passed by and there were things Jennie had yet to do. She had forgotten how much she hated birthdays.

Y/n took out her phone and looked at the time it was 11:09 P.M. and Jennie gasped when Y/n tugged on her. “Quick before it’s too late.” Jennie found herself running towards the Banpodaegyo bridge whose neon lights were glowing. People were walking along the bridge, but Jennie and Y/n were running like their lives depended on it.

“I’m gonna fall,” Jennie whined as her legs were barely keeping up with Y/n’s longer ones, to add she was still under the influence and her running felt bumpy and very unsteady. They made it onto the bridge, Jennie tried to slow down, but Y/n did not let her and continued to run. “Y/n!” The girl let out in panic, making Y/n look over her shoulder at Jennie who was doing her best to keep up. The two were too occupied to care about anyone who would glance their way. Her shorter legs were messily trying to run and she was sure she'd run into something if Y/n wasn't guiding her as she felt herself leaning to one side more.

It soon turned into giggles and Y/n finally stopped, letting Jennie crash into her when she turned around and yanked her into her. Her arms wrapped around the panting girl as they made it to the middle of the bridge. “I could have died.” She tiredly complained, heaving for breath as she was not the best athlete after drinking. Y/n chuckled and grabbed hold of Jennie’s waist, gently pulling her away and looking down at her as she looked up.

“You’re being dramatic–” Y/n said and turned Jennie to face the Han River, the kitten leaned against the railing and looked over the dark river where the moon was being illuminated. She let out a sigh, taking in the scenery while fog left her mouth from the small pants of air.

The younger one busied herself with digging through the pocket of her loose jeans. She got nothing and put her hand into the left one and finally stumbled upon what she was looking for. “Okay, here–you have to throw the coin into the water and make a wish, it’s about to be 11:11 and it’s your birthday so whatever you wish for has to come true.” Jennie turned her head and looked at Y/n with some confusion before letting her eyes fall onto the coin in Y/n’s palm.

“Y/n, I’m not five–” She was cut off by Y/n who took Jennie’s hand and put the cold coin in her hold.

“You are never too old for wishes, I have never heard of that law.” The younger seriously said and Jennie sighed as she turned back to the river. She looked down at the coin in her palm before she clutched it in her hand while Y/n leaned beside her and waited patiently. “Make sure to close your eyes, it’s 11 now.” She reminded her and watched how Jennie closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Despite trying to protest at first she seemed to be in deep thought as her brows creased slightly and she was focusing hard.

Jennie threw the coin and opened her eyes as she stood on her toes to follow it with her eyes, but lost sight after a second as it got swallowed by the darkness. “When will it come true?” She asked and looked to her side at Y/n who was also looking over the railing too.

“You have to wait and it will come, could be in the next hour, day, week, or years, but at some point, it will come true.” Y/n reassured her before she pulled away from the railing. This time she took out her earphones, putting one in her ear.

Jennie frowned as she now was invested in the whole ordeal and wanted to see if it really would come true. Would she have to wait years?

“Come on,” Y/n grabbed hold of Jennie’s hand and the girl was somewhat hesitant to leave now that she had made a wish. Scared it wouldn’t come true if she left.

“But it will come true, right?” She asked to make sure while taking the one earphone that was handed to her.

“It’s the best day to make a wish since it’s your birthday, so obviously yes.” Jennie took one last glance before she clung to Y/n’s arm.

‘L$D - A$AP Rocky’

The two walked in silence through the rest of the bridge, rather admiring the moment in silence than filling it with chatter while listening to the music. The peace still managed to create memories as Jennie felt nostalgic and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was walking with Y/n again or not. Her side leaned into Y/n who put her arm around her shoulders as they walked instead. By the time they made it to the end of the bridge, the next song started playing and Jennie was so familiar with them that it confused her.

‘As Long as You Follow - Fleetwood Mac’

“You won’t mind if I take you to one more place?” Y/n questioned and Jennie looked up at her with docile eyes. She blinked them as they had glossed over and there was a lump in her throat for whatever reason. God, she did not want it to end. Jennie wanted this night to last forever. If she could somehow make it last forever she would do just that. Everything to not have Y/n leave her by the end of the night. Jennie shook her head as Y/n could take her to the edge of the world and she wouldn’t mind, she could drag her across all continents and she would be content.

The song was warming Jennie's soul, the lump pushing itself in her throat and she couldn't get over it. She almost wanted to curse Y/n out for playing Fleetwood Mac as they always listened to the band together. Y/n especially loved them. It was as if Y/n wanted to make her cry by playing this song and Jennie was forcing the tears back despite a few strays falling only to what she thought was her knowledge, forgetting that Y/n noticed everything about her. Her lips quivered and her heart thudded heavily.

Y/n hauled a cab and opened the door for Jennie who was citing all the songs.

‘Wot’s…Uh the Deal - Pink Floyd’

All of them weren’t necessarily songs Jennie listened to, but what Y/n listened to as she had a wide range of music tastes. She could still remember how excited Y/n would get to play them to Jennie on the guitar, acoustic or electric, it didn’t matter. She would sit down with Jennie and teach her how to play certain songs and help the girl get better at the string instrument. Sit right behind her and teach her each fret, tab, and chord that had to be played. She would always be so patient.

‘10:37 - Beach House’

Her eyes gazed through the window as she held onto Y/n’s hand who had her arm around her shoulders. The night slowly passed, people still roamed the streets, and lights turned red before turning green, Jennie only watched how the time passed while the car moved through the streets of Seoul.

‘Five String Serenade - Mazzy Star’

If she couldn’t make this night last forever, she would like time the time to pass by slowly. To make it last as long as possible, or for the road to never end and sit in Y/n’s arms her whole life. That way all her worries about her uncertain future would disappear. She would disappear in these songs while loving whatever simple things came to her as long as they were from Y/n.

‘What kind of love - Childish Gambino’

“Where are we going?” Jennie asked at last as she hadn’t heard where Y/n was taking them. She just followed. Y/n gave her a cheeky smile as she looked down at Jennie. Her hand untangled itself from Jennie’s two and she used it to brush away some of the hair that was falling in her face before letting her hand fall back down as it was resting around Jennie. The girl clung back onto it, playing with Y/n’s fingers. “You will see in a second ‘cause we’re almost there.” Jennie pouted at that and rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

‘Teenager - Deftones’

She started to feel like she had been thrown in a time capsule as the view of the Seoul tower was much more clear now. Jennie moved from Y/n’s hold and looked closer at where exactly they were heading. Her sight was somewhat blurry from the alcohol that she had consumed, but she knew that she wasn’t drunk enough to be this delusional.

‘Bel Air - Lana Del Rey’

“Why are we stopping by the cable cars?” She questioned and looked back at Y/n who paid the man who had driven them from the bridge to the cable cars that went up to the tower. Jennie wouldn’t be questioning it all too much if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was closed.

“I rather take a cable car than walk a dark trail at night, Jen,” Y/n said with a chuckle and opened the door before getting out. She held it open and Jennie got out with the girl’s help, bidding one last goodbye to the driver before closing the door to the car. With that she led the way, still dragging a confused Jennie with her.

“It’s closed though.” She deadpanned. It closed at 11 P.M. and it was 11:45 P.M. and Jennie’s birthday was almost over. She was starting to feel like Cinderella and soon enough she’d leave and leave everything behind her. Maybe this would be her last time with Y/n. It didn’t add up in her head and she didn’t want it. Although she felt like she wasn’t the one to make this decision, she was too scared to do it. What if she would get rejected?

“I helped a client invest and win a lot of money. He’s connected to the news Channel who owns it and since he was going to give me a bonus I asked if he could instead fix this for me.” Y/n explained and the girl frowned.

‘When the Sun Hits - Slowdive’

“Okay, and how did you time it all so well that it happened to be now that you ran into me?” Jennie questioned with some suspicion. Y/n chuckled, the kitten looking at her to see the dimples showing and she squeezed her smaller hand.

“Hey, I told you that I hoped I would run into you earlier and so with that hope, I picked this date and if I hadn’t run into you, I would have gone with one of my friends or alone.” Y/n shrugged it off as she knew that Jennie would realise soon enough as the strongest effects of the alcohol had slowly started to subside. They were approached by a guard and Y/n confirmed her identity as Jennie was digging in her blurry brain for what it exactly was.

It wasn’t long until they had made it up the stairs and the cable car was open and waiting. Y/n let Jennie get on first before getting on after the door closed. It was in queue when the next song started playing and Y/n laughed.

‘How You Remind Me - Nickelback’

“It doesn’t count if you aren’t screaming the lyrics Jennie—And this is how you remind me.”

“Y/n…”Jennie shied away like she always did.

“Come on, it’s just us—” Jennie looked unconvinced for a second as they sat in the cable car that was riding up over the dark forest, over the empty road. She giggled as Y/n pulled out the invincible guitar as the pre-chorus started. It was somewhat between childish, but also freeing as Y/n turned up the volume. “Sing or you are flying out.” Y/n threatened.

There truly never were any reasons to hold back when she was with Y/n and they always screamed songs until they lost their voices.

“It’s not like you to say sorry!”

Maybe it was because she was still under the influence, but it could be Y/n’s influence or the alcohol. She found herself singing the whole song with Y/n, knowing every word of it while sharing the invincible microphone with Y/n. The second Y/n laid her eyes on Jennie the girl had that big gummy smile that she adored so much. It was a smile she always wanted to be the cause of and she knew that it wouldn’t be possible if they were away. Unless Jennie still smiled this big whenever she looked back at the memories they had made together.

It was that feeling of being back in college, of being back together with Y/n. Screaming songs, wandering nights, getting lost in what love was for them. It was overwhelmingly good and it was sentimental whenever she looked back at those times. They had never been lost as she knew that Y/n let her live it all over and over again, but that was when they were together. Love was something only Y/n could make her feel on this type of level. The one that healed all the time, surely forgetting all the suffering she had done the past four months.

“All we need to do now is start a band together,” she found herself giggling at Y/n’s words, burying her face in her shoulder as they took out the earphones. She wrapped her arm around Jennie, rubbing her back and unable to even try to let the smile fall. Compared to the Jennie she first cornered in the bathroom, it was like seeing the Jennie she left, being able to bring her right back to life. The Jennie she never should have left even if they both agreed that it would be better. At times there is no such thing as the right thing to do, but possibly people could forgive the mistake when all she had in mind was the best for the girl.

Jennie heaved a sigh and suddenly, as if lightning struck her and woke her up, she realised what it was. Her lips parted, but before she could say anything they had reached the top and their fingers intertwined as they walked out. With a man from staff, they were led to the tower and then to the elevator.

Y/n looked down at Jennie, she kind of figured that the woman had figured it out by now. She looked almost devastated as her gaze was on the floor.

She felt like crying, she wanted to hate Y/n for doing something like this to her, but she couldn’t. This was probably the best gift she could have received, but the biggest problem was that she didn’t have Y/n. They walked out of the elevator, it was silent with just the two of them and Jennie let go of Y/n’s hand as she walked over to the windows. The whole thing was overwhelming as she was keeping her tears at bay and bit her lower lip, taking in a shaky breath as she looked over the view of Seoul at night in the tower that was closed to everyone but them…again.

Y/n put her hands in her pockets to warm them and stood just a step behind Jennie, being able to catch the woman’s reflection in the window. She had realised and Y/n had been expecting Jennie to get emotional because she was always a soft and emotional kitten.

“Those were all the songs we listened to that night in the exact order.” Jennie pointed out as she realised why the songs brought her so much nostalgia and why the order of them rang so many bells in her head. She wouldn’t have noticed otherwise, but the order was just right and now they had screamed the lyrics in that cable car once again while reaching the top. It all came rushing to Jennie.

“I know,” the taller girl simply replied, but she had hoped the whole night that Jennie would realise.

Now it made sense why they walked past so many convenience stores before they at last walked into that specific one.

“But you said that you put on shuffle with over 5k songs in your liked ones,” Jennie mumbled and lifted her head to catch Y/n’s reflection. The view was mesmerising, but what Y/n had done, what she had given her as a birthday present was much more meaningful and mesmerising than the view. It made Jennie turn around to look at her, a pout resting on her lips as her cheeks were stained with a few tear streaks.

“I made sure to put them all in a playlist until we stopped listening, which was when we left the cable car back in 2018, January 16th when we first met and I stole you from a club.”

Jennie jutted out her lower lip as Y/n had always been thoughtful, had always done small gestures that meant the world to her, and had been loving and caring. She hated that she had to be all those things when they weren’t together. It wasn’t fair. “Why?” Her voice cracked and her nose pricked before the tears won and spilled over her eyes.

Y/n gave her a soft and gentle smile, taking her hands out of her pockets. Her hands came up to Jennie’s face as she cupped her cheeks which were cold and soft in her hold, wet with tears that were warm on her cold skin that was tinted a light pink like her nose. She leaned into her hold with a sniffle, the ice on her skin melting at how good it felt to be in the warmth that was home.

“I kind of figured out that night that I would marry you and you seemed to be in bliss because of the night—so I thought that if I were to mess up big along the way I could replay the night for you and make it good again by doing exactly what I did the first time we met and then got together shortly after.” The girl admitted. She had regretted every moment away from Jennie because what she thought was right truly wasn’t. Her last hope was to show Jennie what they were together and hope that even if she suggested it, Jennie would want her right back. It was a stupid mistake, but everyone made them. Y/n just hoped that it wasn’t too late to fix what was broken.

She at least didn't want Jennie to hate her, hoping all she could leave were good memories after her.

Nothing was broken though. They were only broken away from each other, but it was like kintsugi the second they were right by each other again.

“I regret even suggesting it but I was thinking of you—” Jennie didn’t want to hear it, she didn’t blame Y/n. She had seen it from Y/n’s point of view and she knew how she always put Jennie first.

“I know that you were. I think we needed to be away from each other to truly realise how much we need one another to never take the other for granted or do anything to lose each other. To remember how much good we brought each other.” Jennie mumbled and Y/n huffed in relief through her nose as Jennie had always been understanding of her thinking and how she didn’t mean to make things more complicated than needed. It was enough for Jennie to forget the bad and only remember how much good they had brought, how much that had changed their lives in only good ways and she would forever cherish that.

She let go of Jennie and pulled her in for a hug, the shorter girl wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist. She shed her last tears into her shoulder while Y/n soothed her, kissing the side of her head, and rubbing her back while holding her firmly. Jennie couldn’t tell what she was crying over anymore, but the relief made it impossible not to cry. She was still trying to comprehend how they after six years did everything they did the first time they met on Jennie’s birthday.

How Y/n somehow convinced Jennie to leave the club with her (she forgot safety the second she saw the girl).

She had dragged Jennie to that exact convenience store where they ate the same things, and Y/n mixed mango iced tea with tequila that they shared.

When they left and got to the bridge where Jennie made the wish and threw a coin in. A wish that came true because her drunk self wished for Y/n to ask her out despite meeting just an hour prior.

How they listened to music after (those exact tracks) and took a cab.

The only difference was that Y/n had managed to lie their way into letting them take the cable car and be in the tower for just a few minutes.

After that, Y/n walked Jennie to her college dorm and got her number before they parted ways.

They had taken a cab back to the place they used to share where Jennie stayed alone now. Y/n took the elevator up with Jennie who was now opening the door and as she did– “My baby boy.” Y/n cooed as Kuma ran out barking and jumping at her legs as she hadn’t seen him in four whole months. She picked him up, moving her face away as he tried to lick at her.

“I feel bad for even saying this, but he stayed every day whining by the door and waiting for you,” Jennie admitted as she stood in the door frame, removing her sneakers and pushing them aside. She looked at Y/n who was crouched on the floor with the dog going crazy in her arms. The little puppy they had gotten together because they had still been young and wanted some kind of family together.

“I am so sorry, Kuma.” She apologised, feeling almost just as bad for leaving him as she did with Jennie.

Jennie bit her lower lip, watching the two as Y/n put him down, but he started to run around her and barked some more. Kuma wasn’t letting Y/n go, just like Jennie didn’t want to let go. “You could come in, Y/n…” She suggested and Y/n looked from the floor, a glint in her eyes as they trailed from Jennie’s legs, over her whole body before they got to her eyes.

“Nightcap?”

“Yes, just get inside.” Y/n chuckled and picked up the dog before stepping inside the familiar apartment. It was a home, it used to be at least, but what made it a home was Jennie. She slid off her shoes as Jennie walked further inside. Her feet led her to the living room that still looked the same and the other woman wasn’t there yet as she trailed to another part of the apartment. She slumped down onto the couch and put Kuma in her lap.

Her eyes landed on the marble coffee table and she leaned closer while petting the dog. She chuckled at the thought that came to her mind. “Jennie?” She called for the woman, and the sound of her light footsteps came from behind as she left the kitchen. She hummed and Y/n turned to her, taking the whiskey on the rocks that Jennie handed her. “Did you manifest this?” She questioned and looked back down at the Polaroid photo of her right by the candles.

Jennie groaned at that as she saw how it looked. “No! I did not. I like candles and it just happened that I left it there before leaving the apartment.” She explained in her defence. The photo had been behind her phone case for all those months until she left today with the plan to hook up with someone. God forbid one of her friends would see her still carrying that picture after she purposely made Y/n look like she was a jerk behind closed doors—she wasn’t. Now it was lying by the candles and looked like she had been sitting and manifesting all of this.

“So, I’m the only one?” Y/n questioned as she took out her phone and placed it upside down on the coffee table. A polaroid of Jennie in the case and she took a sip of the cold hard liquor while glancing at Jennie who walked around to sit on the couch. The jacket she got to borrow was discarded as she left it in the kitchen just to make sure that Y/n would forget it.

She rolled her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest before taking a sip of the golden brown liquid that hit her taste buds. It made her somewhat wince as she was always between liking and hating whiskey depending on the brand. “First of all, I took it out today, second, I'm not obliged to carry it around,” Y/n gave her a look as she knew that Jennie was trying to get on her nerves. She loved playing those little games where Y/n would piss her off and she’d do it back. Part of why she told her friends things that weren’t true.

Jennie loved being petty like that and was getting back at Y/n right now.

“So, you’re not going to put it back?” She questioned, taking sips from the crystal whiskey glass, the ice clanked around in their glasses while they looked at each other.

“Nope, it would get in the way, wouldn’t it?” Y/n helped Kuma down on the floor before she reached back for her phone. Jennie watched the girl with intensity and felt something boil in her when she saw Y/n open her case. “What’re you doing?” She seriously asked. Through the months just the thoughts of Y/n seeing someone else made Jennie kick and scream in emotions that were green and red. She was ready to pay people to stay away from her and hire people to pull every person Y/n would try to be with apart.

“Your picture will get in the way.” She shrugged, quickly taking yet another sip of the whiskey and putting the glass down. It let her use both her hands and Jennie found herself placing her glass down too. It was boiling inside Jennie and she wanted to strangle Y/n for even uttering those words.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” Her tone went into that angry one that Y/n knew. Not angry even, emotions she only felt when it came to Y/n who she couldn’t stand thinking about being with anyone but her. She would be jealous, she’d die in jealousy, she lost it when she saw Y/n being approached by women who had clear intentions of flirting–she knew that Y/n at times gave in to the flirting just to see Jennie jealous and angry.

“I think I do if I want to find someone to hook up with–” Jennie clenched her jaw and moved onto her knees as she faced Y/n. She tried to reach for her phone but the girl held it away from her, making Jennie crawl to get closer and try to reach for it. “Weren’t those your intentions tonight when you went out and took out my picture? Oh, I clearly remember what Lisa said in that bathroom.”

“Stop that.” Jennie snapped as Y/n was reaching to remove the polaroid. It made Jennie grab hold of her arm with both hands and tackle it down onto the couch.

“You little bitch.” Y/n grumbled as Jennie snatched the phone out of her hold, lying across her lap. She tried to reach for it with her right hand since Jennie was lying with her upper body on her left one. The kitten bit Y/n’s hand when she tried to take it, busy adjusting the picture so it would be back in place. She hissed and pulled away to see a bite mark on her skin right under the knuckle of her thumb.

“Hey!” Y/n exclaimed.

“Hey.” Jennie mocked and tried to open Y/n’s phone only for her face ID to not work. She gasped as her face ID had been removed, she tried the pin, but it wasn’t working either.

“Jennie.”

“Give me my phone before you block it.”

“Give me my phone before you block it. Who do you have on here that you changed your PIN and removed my face ID?” Jennie continued to push Y/n’s buttons who had been pushing hers. That brattiness came right out as she was ready to give her attitude because she couldn’t phantom that Y/n had done these things. Furiously, she continued to guess the pin with all the important dates and numbers Y/n liked.

“I told you something.” Y/n tried to reach for it again while trying to wiggle out her other hand that Jennie had in a death grip. It only got smacked away.

“I told you something. How ‘bout you do something about it?” Jennie pushed and looked over her shoulder with a frown to ask about the pincode. “What’s–Ahh, Y/n.” She whined when the palm collided against her ass making her squirm at the pain. Jennie had almost forgotten about how horny she had been until that pain shot to her clit instead. She felt somewhat embarrassed and her head fell as she kicked her feet with another whine. It was so unexpected that she had no clue how to react or feel.

“Stop being a pain in the ass.”

It went silent and Y/n waited for what Jennie would say or do. That smack just came naturally and she hadn’t controlled it. Whether Jennie was pissed or not, that spanking wasn’t something she could take responsibility for when Jennie worked her nerves so well.

“Stop being a pain in the ass.” She mocked once again, imitating Y/n who groaned. The little giggle that came from Jennie who lifted her head didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you laughing?”

“Are you laughing?” Jennie knew exactly how much Y/n hated it when she would imitate her without an end. The thoughts made her lift her ass slightly, wriggling in Y/n’s lap as she pushed it out. There was a tension between her legs and she wanted it gone.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You’re so annoying. Cry about it, Y/n.” She hissed at the girl. It was soon followed by something that was between a groan and a moan as Y/n spanked her ass once more which made Jennie raise her hips and writhe into the couch cushion. That sensation made her cunt throb and slowly start leaking as she clenched her thighs for some relief. It was hard to control as her ass purposely tried to invite Y/n for more as it was turning her on.

“Tell me what it is, Jennie. Why do you need this?” Y/n questioned and looked at Jennie who was still clutching the phone. She huffed and lifted her head, looking over her shoulder and at Y/n. A little smile on her lips, one that was mischievous.

“I did some things you wouldn’t be happy about–been a very bad girl.”

Y/n gripped at the underside of her thigh just under her ass, squeezing it and making Jennie squirm at how ticklish it was on her sensitive thighs.

“You have?” Jennie bit her lower lip and nodded her head.

“What did you do?”

Jennie purposely lifted her hips and arched her back, being on her knees with her hands stretched out in front of her, chest pressing into the couch. She let go of the phone, Y/n’s eyes on the ass that was in the air and she moved her hand up to it. The kitten jutted her lower lip out in feigned despair. “I’ve been out the whole night looking for someone who would fuck my needy little pussy because the toys haven’t been able to satisfy me…” She looked even sadder now as if she's been having the hardest time of her life because of these things and what she said after seemed to be even more devastating for her. “There hasn’t been any cum in me for so long, no one to fill me, breed me, no cum for me to clean up–I’ve been feeling so useless and empty.” She mumbled, with tears brimming in her eyes.

“So, it’s not my fault for looking for someone to do it,” Jennie added in her defence. The heat shot right to her clit again, her ass burned in the best way possible as she could only moan when Y/n spanked her again.

“Y/n, it’s not fair!” She cried out despite enjoying it. The latter was growing hard, thinking about Jennie’s snug and pink pussy that she’s missed being inside of. The one she missed abusing, filling with cum, if not her other holes. Jennie loved it all, she especially loved cleaning up the cum that leaked out of her after.

“How is it not fair? I’m not the one who's been walking around like I’m in heat and looking for strangers to fuck me.” Her hand ran over Jennie’s inner thighs before she made it to the girl’s pussy which was covered by the black cargo pants. It was enough to make Jennie whine and try to rub her throbbing cunt against the hand that cupped her heat. Y/n’s other hand stroked along Jennie’s bare spine which was warm and arched to show off her ridges.

“It’s my birthday.” Jennie slyly pointed out.

“I’m supposed to give in because of that? Give you a free pass?” Y/n asked, gently rubbing Jennie’s clothed cunt. The girl desperately tried to push her hips more into the hand that removed pressure every time she tried. It was keeping her on the edge as she pathetically continued to try and hump at Y/n's hand.

“Yes. Please creampie my pink and tight little pussy and make me a mommy tonight.” The erection was now straining against Y/n’s jeans as the offer was one she did not want to pass on despite it giving Jennie a free pass. Her brain cells reasoned with each other, agreeing on it being Jennie’s birthday even if it was past 12, but it didn’t count until they went to sleep and woke up. Her eyes gazed into Y/n’s, practically daring her to do it.

“Get up,” never in her life had Y/n seen Jennie get up so fast. The girl always liked to take her time simply because she wanted to or because she wanted to annoy Y/n. The giggly and horny Jennie ran towards the bedroom with Y/n taking long strides right after her.

The bedroom was also the same with Jennie on the bed unzipping her pants. “Hey, hey, slow down,” Y/n complained and the feline pouted when her hands were pushed away from the fly of her cargo pants.

“I’m so horny though.”

“I can tell that much,” Y/n commented with her hands pulling Jennie up to sit. Her arms wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders and she pulled her down, hands gripped at her waist and she got her breath taken away. Jennie melted and healed when she finally had Y/n’s lips against hers again. She didn’t want to wait when she tilted her head and opened her mouth for the tongue to push against her. It tasted of whiskey, it was just as intoxicating and was washing over her body, injecting itself deep within her veins.

One person could only satisfy the other.

Jennie couldn’t even satisfy herself when she was horny. Y/n knew just how to eat her out, stuff her with cock, fuck her, make her orgasm and beg for more.

She swallowed Y/n’s tongue, sucking on it and the girl groaned when Jennie’s hand came down from her shoulder and rubbed at her cock through the pants. It was making Jennie’s clit throb painfully, just feeling Y/n’s cock was making her try to clench her thighs that Y/n stood between. Both her hands went to the bulge, rubbing at the outline while undoing the zipper with her other while Y/n threaded her fingers through Jennie’s hair.

“Please, please–” Y/n cut Jennie off who pulled away and was about to plead for her to start fucking her.

“I will, but you have to show off for me first.” She pried Jennie’s hands away from the hem of her jeans and pulled her up onto her feet. “I know it’s your birthday, but you said yourself that you were a bad girl, so this is the least you can do.” Y/n ushered and smiled at Jennie as the girl squinted her eyes.

The girl was determined to show Y/n exactly what she walked out from. Her eyes were laced with seductiveness even if the girl was stalling her orgasm. The girl reached into the pocket of her pants and took out her phone, Y/n smiled bigger and leaned back against her palms as the smart home speakers started to play Champagne by The Weeknd . Jennie turned around and tossed her phone onto the dresser.

Her eyes watched Jennie’s every move and her fingers grabbed hold of the small piece that was tied at her side to hold the shirt against her body. She pulled it, slowly, Y/n’s eyes stuck on the slim back and just watching her was enough to make Y/n’s chest heave even more. Jennie undid it, her hands running over her body, tugging up the open-back shirt with her before letting go as it fell back down. Y/n waited in anticipation, almost regretting it as she couldn’t wait for Jennie to remove the shirt and turn so she could see her chest.

Her body gently moved to the music, her fingers ran over her arm and over to the one strap before she gently tugged it down. The other hand ran under her shirt towards the other strap. She made sure to let out a light hum to let Y/n know that she ran over her breast before she reached the strap. Jennie slid them down her shoulders, the shirt fell with a soft thud to the floor.

She had yet to turn around though.

Instead, she finished undoing her pants and proceeded to bend over with her fingers hooked around the hem. It couldn’t have gone slower, the way she slowly started to pull them down her ass, revealing more and more of the flesh and lacy material of her black cheeky underwear. They went up her ass as she got the pants under her cheeks. Her ass was plump and pushed right out with her puffy pussy, the woman’s back arched and her eyes coming to peek over her shoulder. Her feline eyes were clouded by lust and she looked back in front of her as Y/n looked hypnotised.

She pulled them further down, revealing her creamy thighs inch by inch while making sure to show off how agile she was by slowly bending herself in half. It wasn’t until they were resting by her calves that Jennie started to get down on her knees to the music. The girl was holding back from dragging Jennie to bed now. She got on her knees, her back straight and showing off her perfect posture as she slid into a side-sitting position with her legs on one side (left), the pants fully discarded now. Her hand came over behind her and dragged her hair to one side of her shoulder, looking to the side while doing so. The movements were soft.

She moved her legs further, taking them in front of her and spreading them open. Her palms planted behind her and slowly slid against the rug, reclining herself back. It was hypnotising, her chest at last coming into view, more and more until she was lying on her back. Jennie loved showing off her body, especially to Y/n and no one else. Her body was just for Y/n and whether it was her birthday or not, a striptease was just as satisfying to her as it was to Y/n. (She was also aware that she had to pay for what she did when trying to look for someone else.)

She couldn’t begin to explain how much her clit started to throb when she caught the look on Y/n’s face. The wetness was gushing as she loved being admired by Y/n. It was almost enough to get off for Jennie. Her hand came between her legs, her hips moved in a fluid wave like motion when she whined them into the fingers that brushed over the slick material, fingers threading into the rug as her eyes closed. She continued to run her hand up her body, fingers feather-likely running over her skin which made her chest heave and body move. A soft moan slipped past her lips when she brushed over her nipple until she reached her throat.

Jennie was quick and agile in the way she smoothly turned from her back and onto her stomach. Her eyes were almost predatory the way she looked up at Y/n while slowly pushing herself up, ass coming up first with hands stretched out in front of her until she pushed herself forward and was standing on all fours.

Slowly she crawled the small distance like a cat over to Y/n, her hips moving, her back still arched. Jennie reached the girl and got on her knees while looking at her through her lashes, her hands grabbed hold of Y/n’s knees, pulling her legs apart to get between them. In one smooth motion, like waves, she slid up, getting on her feet and coming face to face with Y/n, her hands holding onto Y/n’s shoulders.

“Am I excused for being bad?” Jennie questioned, her chest heaving, as if she ran a marathon, but the arousal was just getting overwhelming. She could feel how sticky it was between her legs, everything spilling and smearing on her inner thighs. The underwear piece was ruined. Y/n licked her lips and grabbed her hips, looking down at Jennie’s chest, her nipples perky, her breasts plump.

“More than excused—you deserve to not only get your pussy stuffed but also eaten.” There was that vocal fry in Y/n’s voice that Jennie knew so well. It meant that she would get her pussy messily devoured. She squealed when Y/n got up and put Jennie on the bed, she pushed her back and leaned down. Fingers threaded into her hair when she attached her lips to Jennie’s chest first.

It was eliciting small whines and gasps, the tongue swirling her nipple, teeth gently tugging, the other being roughly groped the way she liked it. Y/n wrapped her mouth around as much soft flesh as possible and sucked before licking. Jennie’s hips were pathetically bucking at the heat that was bubbling in her stomach because of it. “Y/n!” She cried out at the way her nipple was pinched between Y/n’s fingers, the girl tugged on the bud after and started to kiss down to Jennie’s cleavage.

“Please, I promise, I taste so good,” Jennie begged as Y/n was kissing down her stomach. The kitten squirmed when her nipple got flicked, the bud more swollen and red now as Y/n had abused the sensitive nub that was stiff.

“Have you been cleaning up your messes lately?” Y/n asked with a smirk, glancing up at Jennie who had her head thrown back with her back arching, hips desperately pushing into Y/n. She whined, not wanting to answer the embarrassing question as she had been feral trying to fuck herself right only to make a mess but not orgasm hard enough. This time she cried, slightly kicking her feet when Y/n twisted the same nipple again.

“Answer, Jen.”

“I lick my fingers clean because they get so messy.” She admitted in a whine, her cheeks even more flushed as it was now just flowing out of her. Jennie always got so wet, and someone had to clean it after. Y/n was well aware of how Jennie would always leak with juices. The videos she’d send of playing with her pink pussy when Y/n wasn’t there to eat her out, making sure to show how she would lick up the sticky mess of her fingers after getting as much as possible on them. She loved sucking Y/n’s cock, especially to have cum shoot into her mouth that she’d swallow.

“You want me to taste you?” Y/n continued to tease as she was on her knees and Jennie pushed herself up. A look of desperation on her face, tears welling in her eyes as it was hurting now. “Yes.” She watched Y/n who hooked her fingers around her underwear and she started to tug them down. They clung to her wet cunt, pulling a sticky mess with them as Y/n peeled them off and dropped the ruined material on the floor.

“All for you.” Jennie surely invited the girl who was on her knees in front of her by spreading her legs, her hand coming in between her legs. She bit her lower lip as Y/n watched her use her fingers to spread her glistening and puffy folds. Her hole was clenching in greediness as her arousal was slowly leaking out of it, running down her ass and onto the sheets. She ran them over to her clit, showing the swollen bud by pulling back the hood. Y/n smiled and gently removed Jennie’s fingers as she had shown off her cunt enough.

The girl waiting, finally in the only suitable outfit on a day like this, in her birthday suit.

“I will make sure to take it all.” Y/n reassured her and Jennie’s hand gripped onto her hair while Y/n moved Jennie’s leg to wrap it around her shoulder. The girl groaned as Jennie forcefully pulled on her hair and shoved her face fully into her cunt. She gasped, squirming and grinding her hips into Y/n’s face when she licked right up along her slit, tongue spreading her lips. The taste washed over Y/n’s tongue, it was addicting and she moved back down, her tongue flat against the heat as she licked up from the sopping hole, bringing it all up to her clit.

Jennie’s lips stayed apart, breaths desperate and the sounds falling from between them as she couldn’t control it neither could she control the squirming into Y/n’s face. “Fuck, Y/n–more, I want more,” she whined, her eyes falling closed and her back hit the mattress as she couldn’t hold herself up.

Y/n sucked onto her outer lips, sucking them in and teasing with her tongue, dipping down and nudging the grasping hole with her tongue, swirling it which made Jennie gasp and writhe for more. However, she would feel bad if she teased Jennie for too long as the girl had been all ready since they entered the bedroom. Her hand gripped Jennie’s hip to ground them and control their whining as they weren’t controlled by the nymphomaniac that Jennie was.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you so much, the way you fuck me.” Jennie cried out when lips wrapped around her clit, the tongue firmly flicking at it at a perfect angle. Y/n ran her other hand over to Jennie’s hole, her one finger teasing around the hole while she continued to flick at her clit. Her tongue moved quickly, harshly flicking back and forth as it always made Jennie’s thighs quiver, trying to close around her head and leave the girl unsure of what to grip onto or how to act.

Her juices were smearing over her chin, running down and creating a mess and Y/n couldn’t help but dip down for more. The pleasure didn’t stop for Jennie who gyrated her hips into Y/n’s nose while the girl lapped at her hole, gathering the stickiness on her tongue before bringing it back up. She swirled around her clit before she wrapped her lips around it and suckled hard enough for Jennie to moan louder and arch her back off of the mattress. The birthday girl had always been vocal and sensitive to all touch when it came to Y/n. She was quite sure it was because of how many chemicals her body released around her, the oxytocin overflowing.

With ease, Y/n pushed two fingers into Jennie who sucked them in right away. Her walls were warm and throbbing, continuously clenching around the two slender fingers that started to push into her. “So close, I want it,” Jennie mumbled, a few coherent words coming from her now and then as she was lost in the firm and slick muscle that worked her swollen and pulsating clit while fingers pressed against her g-spot. She could feel it coming, the way her stomach started to drop and heat up.

“How bad do you want it?” Y/n gruffly questioned by pulling away for a split second before going right back.

“So bad, I will cry if I don’t get it–play with my pussy until it hurts. All yours.” The words flew out of her blabbering mouth, gasping and falling out of breath. She had been longing for more than Y/n and her love, but this type of love too.

“I love it, you fuck me so good with your tongue. Oh God–” Her chest heaved, her fingers tangling themselves in Y/n’s hair who groaned at the pain while eating at Jennie’s cunt. The mess ran down her chin, down Jennie’s ass, staining the sheets. The sounds were lewd, Jennie moaning, gasping, and whining, and the way Y/n was eating her pussy was making the wet sounds bounce off the walls in the room from the licking and sucking. The younger let out her moans and groans at how much she enjoyed having Jennie squirm while eating her out.

Her thighs shook while clenching around Y/n, her voice strained, her body spasming as she arched off the bed with her hips bucking into Y/n. Jennie lost control of her voice, cries flying out as everything disappeared, her ears ringing and her vision dying out. Her hand flew to her breast, grabbing hold of it as she had no clue where else to grasp. Her walls clasped around Y/n’s fingers, thudding around them as the orgasm crashed through her. It went on for a good few seconds as Y/n didn’t stop and continued to flick at her bud.

It wasn’t until Jennie was panting for breath and instead of pulling her into her pussy she was pulling her away that Y/n stopped. She slowed down, gently cleaning up the mess that Jennie’s cunt was, the girl wriggling under her from the kittenish licks lapping up the juices. Her body relaxed at last, slumping into the mattress and closing her eyes, her pussy palpitating from aftershocks.

“No…” She whined, convulsing and closing her legs with her hands flying between them as Y/n was no longer between them. A heat ran over her at the painful slap that landed against her swollen pussy, the sound wet and harsh.

“Don’t you want my cock too?” Y/n questioned and the girl opened her eyes, looking at Y/n who was using her black sweatshirt to wipe at her chin and mouth. It made her pussy clench at how it was missing Y/n.

“I do.” She dragged out and pulled herself up, her hands grasping at Y/n’s sweatshirt and pulling it up. The latter helped her by fully pulling it over her head and discarding it to the floor with kittenish hands pawing at her slim stomach before they dropped to her pants. Although Jennie didn’t pull them down, she instead moved onto her knees. “Hurry up, my pussy is waiting for your cum, baby.” She purred out while turning around and getting on all fours, showing off her ass and dripping pussy while looking over her shoulder at Y/n. Her ass pushed out for Y/n as she arched her back to further the invite.

“You’re so bad.” Y/n groaned and fully undid her pants, letting them pool around her ankles before she kicked them to the side with her boxers. Jennie bit her lower lip, eyeing the thick and long member, the tip bulbous and red, leaking with precum, the long vein dragged on the underside and Y/n’s slim and veiny hand came over to it. She stroked herself, her other hand caressing the plump outline of Jennie’s ass who only pushed more into her.

“Such a bad girl after not getting my attitude fucked out of me…I get so mean when I don’t have your cum stuffing my pussy.” Jennie agreed, drawing her words out while lowering herself until her chest pressed against the mattress.

“I need–” Jennie stopped Y/n who was about to get to the bedside drawer where she knew condoms were. They always hit it raw, but she wasn’t sure if Jennie had continued with her birth control after four months of being alone.

“No condom,” it wasn’t an ask, but more so a demand. Y/n didn’t mind condoms while Jennie hated them.

“You’re on birth control,” Y/n concluded and went right back to place, guiding her tip between Jennie’s folds who let her head drop at the feeling that sent shivers through her spine.

She bit her lower lip, forcing the smile to not get too big as she couldn’t wait longer as she confirmed Y/n’s conclusion. “Yes.” A sigh followed when the stretch came, Y/n’s tip pushing inside her, spreading her open, splitting her folds and disappearing into her sopping and snug heat. It was squeezing her cock as a moan slipped from her mouth. The warmth of Jennie was so familiar, it was leaving her cock to throb the further she slipped inside the confines of her pink cunt.

The brunette whined, her insides twisting at how good it felt, the cock too big for her smaller body as it was always a tight fit and a big stretch for her to take the girl behind her. Y/n stopped as her pelvis met Jennie’s ass, filling her to the hilt with her hands gripping Jennie’s hips. Her lips parted at the feeling as she stalled any movement and got lost for a second in just the feeling of having Jennie around her.

However, Jennie wasn’t nearly as patient. “Are you going to fuck me or act like a virgin who wet their dick for the first time?” It brought Y/n right out of her drowning thoughts at the rude tone of Jennie who sounded annoyed.

“What?” She breathed out.

“Fuck me or I will find someone else to do it.” Jennie loved digging her own grave. At least she got buried with her back being blown.

“Who else will fuck you this good?” Y/n didn’t wait for an answer as she pulled out almost fully before Jennie was sent flying forward when she slammed her hips back against hers. It drew gasps and moans from Jennie as Y/n proceeded with the deep and hard thrusts. The thick cock dragged along her tight walls, and the wet and squelching noises got louder as Jennie's pussy was a mess. Y/n’s pelvis slapped against Jennie’s ass and started to fill in with moans, groans, whimpers, and gasps. All occupying the room.

Jennie bunched up the sheets in her fists, her face buried in them. She could feel the curved tip abusing her g-spot as it continuously dragged along the soft and spongy spot in her. The cock was hitting deep in her, filling her and hitting the right spots that she wasn’t even able to hit when fucking herself with all kinds of toys.

Her moans were erotic, they fueled Y/n on who was going carnal as Jennie’s pussy, body, voice, and everything else always had that effect. The brunette's hips started to meet Y/n’s thrust, clenching and helping her drag her cock in her pussy.

“Fuck, your cock is so big, it hurts so good.” Jennie moaned as the pain always mixed with the pleasure.

Y/n huffed, biting her lower lip as she moved one hand and landed its palm against Jennie’s ass since the girl was pushing it out for her so much. It was followed by a mewl from the birthday girl.

“Are you going to take all my cum?” Y/n groaned out, the answer taking a second too long and earning Jennie’s bright red ass cheek another spank. The heat only shot right to her clit and she couldn’t feel embarrassed about it as she loved every second of it. “Everything, I’m going to keep it all inside and be a mommy,” Jennie whined, the words only made her clench more as her own words fueled her.

“You look so good with cock in you, your slutty pussy takes it so well.” Y/n complimented, her eyes falling on where her hard cock was disappearing. The wetness was running down Jennie’s thighs, and her pink folds spread because of the cock that was drilling into her cunt which was growing sore. She was sucking Y/n in, doing everything to milk her and get her cum as she forgot about wanting to orgasm. All she wanted was to be creampied and keep it all inside for as long as possible because it made her feel full.

“Only you can play with it so well, fuck it until it hurts–your cocksleeve, for you to warm in and empty into.”

“You love being used.” Y/n threw her head back, her fingers digging into the flesh of Jennie’s ass and hips. The thrusts were hard, the bed squeaking with every stroke inside the snug sleeve that Jennie was for her cock. The smaller girl moved with each thrust that was throwing her forward, making her grip harder to stay in place.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Jennie spewed out, the tension in her stomach started to grow and Y/n could feel how much tighter her walls started to get around her. Her hand dropped from Jennie’s ass and went right under her, pushing onto her lower belly, able to feel herself bulge the small brunette's stomach. It was making Jennie dizzy, the pressure grew and she was getting sent right back into floating.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come so hard around your cock, Y/n.” Jennie cried out, writhing in the sheets as she pulled on them with her hands. Her jaw fell slack, the moans going up in pitch and the heat flashed over her, the cries slowly coming in breathless as the control was lost and she couldn’t tell what was going on.

Y/n continued to pound her, the tension slowly easing from Jennie, although her mind remained clouded. Her body was warm and covered in a sheet of sweat. “I’m so close.” Y/n groaned, her tip twitching.

Jennie could feel the cock grow harder in her. “Fuck, breed my cunt, Y/n–shoot it into my womb.” She intentionally clenched her walls and Y/n’s hips stuttered, Jennie, pushing her ass flush against her to get it all shot deep in her. It filled her even more, Y/n and Jennie both moaning. Rope after rope of thick and creamy cum painted her walls white, making her hum at how good it felt to be filled so well again.

“So good,” Y/n mumbled, her body collapsing onto Jennie’s who slumped down on her stomach. Her chest heaved as she peppered kisses along Jennie’s warm shoulder. The kitten hid her face in the sheets, the cock growing limp in her throbbing cunt as she tried to get back on a normal breathing pattern.

“Happy birthday, Jennie.” She let out a breathless chuckle and Y/n slowly pushed herself up.

“It’s not my birthday anymore.” The brunette mumbled, turning onto her back and raising her knees, trying her best to keep the cum within her walls. Her soft eyes fell onto Y/n, dreading it as she was scared that she would leave. The night was over, and so was her birthday.

“It’s the 16th until you go to sleep.” Y/n reminded her and she smiled, biting her lower lip while Y/n reached for her boxers, pulling them back on.

“Y/n…” The latter looked up at Jennie who was already looking at her. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Please don’t leave.” She mumbled.

“Jennie–” She cut Y/n off right away.

“Please, even if it’s just for the night.” She begged and Y/n chuckled

“Why on earth would I leave?” She questioned, baffled that Jennie thought she would just leave her, especially after having sex. Maybe they said it during sex, but she would never just use Jennie and leave her behind after.

Jennie felt a weight fall off of her, there was a lightness in her chest. She at times hated how sensitive she was as her lower lip jutted out and her breathing picked up to hold her tears back. Y/n heaved a sigh and got on the bed, with ease she pulled Jennie’s limp body with her as she kicked the duvet down before pulling it over them. The girl hugged around Y/n’s slim waist, burying her face in her shoulder as she couldn’t help but cry.

“Will you leave tomorrow?” She asked through her tears. The younger clicked her tongue and ran her fingers through Jennie’s hair. The both of them drowned in the warmth they shared.

“Do you want me to?” She had a good feeling that Jennie did not want her to leave. She wouldn’t be crying otherwise. Y/n was right as Jennie shook her head, tightening her grip around her to make sure that she would stay. It made her pull her small body closer to her and she kissed the top of her head.

“If you want…” Y/n trailed off and Jennie lifted her head, her eyes exhausted and filled with tears. Y/n wiped her cheeks with the pad of her palm before she leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I could stay forever.” She suggested and Jennie closed the little gap between them. This time the kiss was soft, neither of them wanting it to rush into anything else than the adoration and love they still and always would have for each other.

“Yes, please.” She mumbled and Y/n smiled against her lips, pecking them.

“I love you, Jennie.” To hear those words again healed all those empty and torn parts in her. They were eager to say them again and wanted to say them a million times more to make up for all the four months that they hadn't said them.

“I love you, Y/n…” She cleared her throat and looked down a little guiltily and Y/n hummed confused. Jennie mumbled something under her breath, her eyes avoiding Y/n’s as she lay in her arms.

“You have to stop mumbling.” Y/n seriously said as the guilty look on Jennie’s face was starting to worry her. She sighed at that and lastly spoke up.

“I’m not actually on any birth control,” Jennie admitted as she had lied. She didn’t care when she hadn’t been sure if Y/n would have stayed. If she had to force Y/n to get back together then she would do so by trapping her. It only made sense to try and get pregnant if she was ovulating and wanted nothing more than Y/n to stay and to have a baby with her.

“You’re evil,” Y/n whispered and Jennie gave her a haughty little smile, showing that she wasn’t as guilty as she pretended to be.

“I don’t care, I only want you.” She pecked Y/n’s lips before she laid her head on her shoulder, nuzzling her face in her neck, drowning in the comforting scent of home that Y/n was to her.

“I only want you too, Jen.” She couldn’t find it in herself to be angry with the kitten. Y/n loved her too much and neither would she mind having kids with her. All she did was pull her closer and hug her, holding her in a way that would lull Jennie right to sleep and at last let her wake up well-rested after so many bad nights of sleep and crying.

“Start preparing to be a parent and do not forget the ring before I get pregnant.” Jennie pointed out and lifted her left hand, showing the empty fingers to Y/n who leaned in and pecked her ring finger. She giggled when Y/n gently bit it and she quickly hid it after.

“Don’t worry about any of it, I still want to marry you and have a family.”

Jennie’s wish did come true once again.

#blackpink smut #jennie smut #jennie x reader #smut #jennie x g!p reader #girl group smut #fanfic #oneshot #fluff #smut with plot #Spotify

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moonlinos · 10 months ago

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Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat.

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.”

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable.

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day.

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch. When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless.

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

903 notes · View notes

logoleptic-since-06 · 7 days ago

Text

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

✮ Pairing: Satoru x Fem!Reader

✮ Content: Fem!Reader, Non-Sorcerer AU, College Setting, Mentions of Family and Financial Issues, Mentions of Other JJK Characters, Language, Smut (Fingering, Cunillingus), Slight Angst, Fluff, Dislike to Love, Mentions of Smoking, Slowburn, Not Proofread

Based On This Concept I Made

✮ A/N: I know I said I will not be writing fics for the concepts I made, but I love this trope too much to not have written it.

★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ -> Some songs this was inspired by (I know I listen to white girl music, what about it?) ✮ Also heavily inspired by the book The Deal by Elle Kennedy.

✮ Word Count: 4.6k

MDNI

“This was your last chance, Gojo, I’m gonna have to revoke your captaincy.”

“Please, coach,” Satoru’s usual cocky tone was replaced with desperation, “One more chance, please. My econ test scores came out today, and I’m confident I did well. Just consider this for once.”

Coach Yaga pauses for a second, “Listen, kid, I will consider it for now, but it’s really not on me. College rules say athletes can’t have more than three F’s. And according to that, I should bench you till you get your grades up.”

His eyes widen. “What? No, you can’t bench me, I’m your best player!”

“You know it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck…” he murmurs in frustration. His econ test, that he has already given, is his last straw. If he fucks this one up, he will be benched until he gets his grades up. Basketball tournament season is right around the corner, and being in his senior year of college means his professional recruitments will start this season. Being benched is far from an option he wants to go for.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

He fails.

He fucking fails the test that he was so sure he’d pass.

“And then he benched me,” he groans as he finishes telling the story to his friend group/housemates/teammates. He looks at Suguru, his oldest and closest friend, “Oh, and he made you the captain for the time being, by the way.”

Suguru simply shrugs. “Then get your grades up and re-secure your spot. I won’t even be going pro, you need this.”

"We are all rooting for you, Gojo," Haibara's over-enthusiastic voice speaks. Haibara and Nanami are in their junior year, and Haibara is probably Satoru and Suguru's biggest hype-man, despite playing in the same team.

“I’ve tried, you know I have. I don’t know what else to-” Satoru stops as an idea strikes his head. He tilts his head towards Nanami, “Hey, Nanami.” “No,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even-”

“Whatever you ask, no.” “Tutor me, you’re like the only smart person I know.” “I’m your junior.”

“We have the same course, we study the same thing in the same class.”

“Fuck, you’re such a manchild,” Shoko’s bored voice speaks as she takes a puff from her cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in our house,” Satoru scolds her, causing her to flip him off.

“Although,” Shoko sits up from laying against the couch, “I might have someone that can help you. My roommate.”

Shoko doesn’t live with the others, but Satoru has never heard of her roommate before. “Your roommate, huh?” he repeats lazily.

Nanami snorts, “Y/N? She’s in my year and I doubt she’ll ever help him.”

Shoko nods, “You can try if you’re desperate enough.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. “Offer her tons of money.”

Satoru thinks for a second, “She can be convinced using money? That’s perfect, I have money.”

Everyone except Haibara rolls their eyes.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Having finished your last assignment of the day, you relax back against your chair, taking in the hushed ambience of the library. It was a stressful, but productive day. You only relax for a split second before a wave of anxiety gushes over you– you’ve recently lost your job at the local barista due to it being shut down. It was the only place close to the campus you can get a job at, and there is no way you could afford a living on campus without a job.

You decide to get up and head to your dorm room instead of musing upon your issues. As you begin to pack your things into your tote bag, you see a tall, white-haired figure sit across from you at the table with a bright smile on his face that shows off his dimples.

Satoru Gojo?

The star athlete is Shoko’s childhood best friend. Ever since she became your roommate in your freshman year as a sophomore, you’ve only heard tales of him and Suguru Geto. You’ve seen them around the campus, of course, but you’ve always chosen peace over any interaction with them. People flock around them like a group of fans rushing over to buy tickets for a sold-out concert. Arrogance seeps out of him every time he walks through a door, making every head turn towards him.

“Hi,” he says, looking straight into you. You look behind you, trying to see if he is talking to someone else. “No, I’m talking to you. Y/N, right?”

The sound of your name in his voice sounds weird. How did he know who you were?

He continues, “I am–”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off for a reason that is unknown to even yourself. He tilts his head in confusion, but you can tell it's not from the knowledge of you knowing his name but rather from the fact that you are wearing an annoyed expression on your face right now. You almost feel bad but it's not like you can help it, you just lost your job and it is not easy for a girl from a middle class family to survive in this environment filled with some of the richest brats in the city, Satoru Gojo included.

“I need your help.” Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds so foreign, you wouldn’t have imagined them in your wildest dreams.

“My help?” Why is he talking to you?

“I need you to tutor me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We are in the same classes together. I need someone to tutor me because I’m failing my classes and if I’m benched and won’t be able to play until I pass them. And if I don’t play this season, I won’t be recruited to go pro, so basically my entire future is in your hands.”

Your disturbed grimace is probably a little too noticeable, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “Why are you making that face?” He says it with such innocent confusion, you almost give in.

“I don’t even know you,” you finally say, your voice sounds bored.

“But you are the best I can find.”

“Why can’t you hire a professional tutor?”

“Because then my parents will know, and they can’t know.”

“That’s not my problem.” “God, you’re insufferable,” he exasperates, “I’ll pay. A lot.”

That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow. “How much?”

He sits up and excitedly takes a piece of paper and pen, writes down an amount, and slides the paper towards you.

One look at the paper and your eyes go wide. He wrote an hourly rate and as you do the quick math in your head, you realize this would pay twice the amount you got as a barista.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“And you will cooperate?”

“Of course, I need this, Y/N.” Will you ever get used to your name on his tongue?

“When and where?”

“Five days a week, so all working days. My house? It’s off campus. Give me your number, I’ll send you the location.” “I know where you live, I’ve dropped Shoko off to yours before. And yeah it works.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Y/N; you’re a lifesaver.” In the blink of an eye, he gets up and leaves you stranded at the library table.

Lifesaver… The word echoes through your head. You’ve been called that so many times, it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. You’ve been a lifesaver to your classmates for sharing your homework with them, or giving them answers during a test; you’ve been a lifesaver to your parents when you volunteered to look after your younger siblings, or when took care of dinner; you’ve been a lifesaver to your siblings for helping them study, or for solving any problem they’ve had.

Even now, as you study in an elite university where the annual tuition is more than what your family earns in a year, you push yourself to work hard and maintain a scholarship, and work two jobs while simultaneously being a full-time student– just so you don’t have rely on someone else for anything, even if they’re your parents.

At least Satoru Gojo is willing to pay you a good amount for being a so-called ‘lifesaver’. Sure, there was a time when you thought money couldn’t buy you happiness, but spending so much time amongst your classmates made you realize it’s quite the opposite. Money brings you respect and recognition, and one day, you will have both of them, you are sure of it. For now, you are at peace with the fact that you are nothing but a phantom made up of invisible smoke, haunting the hallways until someone needs her.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The next day, you find yourself on the doorstep of your new student’s house. You shake off your unwanted anxiety and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a tall figure with long luscious dark hair.

Suguru Geto, certified asshole number two (one is Gojo, of course). He looks down at you with a slight smirk. Seriously, what’s so funny? He motions you to come in.

“Satoru’s upstairs in his bedroom,” he drawls.

“Can you call him?”

He pauses for a second before answering, “Sure thing.” His gaze doesn’t avert from you as he calls out his name. Why is he so ominous? Why is Shoko friends with them?

Gojo comes out of his bedroom and stands by the stairway as he calls you up enthusiastically. You head upstairs and he leads you to his lavish bedroom and closes the door behind the two of you.

“So,” he says as he plops down on his bed, “Where do we start?”

“Let’s go through your assignments first.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

After an hour of tutoring, Satoru is officially done with his first tutoring session. He thinks you are a little odd with your bored yet annoyed expressions, yet he can’t stop but think you’re cute. He clearly gets the vibe that you aren’t the biggest fan of his as whenever he asked you a question about anything other than studies in the past hour, you had simply glared at him. It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever.

It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever. Since every question that he asks you about basketball is also either met with a glare or a “Finish this first, then we’ll talk.”

Your annoyance doesn’t matter to Satoru– if anything, he’s loving the fact that he’s getting on your nerves. It isn’t just you– annoying people has always been his specialty. Despite being the captain and the strongest player, his cheery demeanor is always met with eye rolls or groans of displeasure.

Sure, girls around him would die to be with him– even for a moment– but if it’s not for sleeping around, he isn’t quite ever wanted. He tells himself he is okay with it, that if they don’t want him, he will turn himself into someone they need. Which is exactly what he did; and now, without him, the team will fall apart.

Once the tutoring session is over, he hits you with a similar question, a cheeky grin plastered on his beautiful face. “So, you ever been to any of our games?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested in sports.”

“None at all?”

“None at all.”

“What ECAs did you have in highschool?” You look up at him. “I had plenty. Why do you wanna know?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity.” You sigh. “I was in the debate club, I worked for the school magazine, hosted multiple events, wrote articles, did internships, signed up for a bunch of award programs.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. “And your SATs?”

“1560.”

Fuck. Satoru back in highschool was even bigger of a menace than he is now. With an SAT score of 1230 and basketball as the only ECA, it almost seems unfair to him now that both you and him are in the same university– one earned while the other given. Satoru never feels bad for exploiting his family’s money, after all, that’s the only thing they are willing to give him. But seeing someone work this hard– even harder than Nanami– to get to where they are is something Satoru can’t help but be impressed by.

And Satoru isn’t one to be impressed easily.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

A few weeks pass in a breeze and the air now carries the hint of winter, the first fall of snow just around the corner. Students are locked inside their rooms, their heads buried in textbooks trying to prepare for the upcoming exams.

“You better pass this one, Gojo,” you tell him one day as you both are sitting in his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He makes a salute gesture, causing you to stifle a small smile.

“I don’t wanna be that person, but why don’t you smile much?” His question takes you aback. “I’m not saying you should smile more; do whatever you want. I’m just asking why.”

You shrug simply, the guards you have around you have weakened a little in the past few weeks, but they’re not completely shattered. “I don’t smile without a reason.”

“I crack jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

He rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging up his mouth.

You check the time and your eyes widen. “How long have I been here for?”

He leans back against his chair, “Almost three hours.”

“Shit, I was gonna call Shoko to come pick me up.”

He laughs when he hears that. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s exam season, she definitely has her phone turned off right now.” Catching the worried expression on your face, he adds, “Do you want me to drop you off?”

You think for a while, trying to figure out other possibilities. Once you fail to do so, you feel your guards cracking a little more as you answer, “Okay.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The drive from his house to your campus dorm is a short one. Yet, something in you makes you want to stir up a conversation.

“So what made you start playing basketball?”

His eyes don’t drift from the road when he answers. “You know my dad, right? He was a professional basketball player. It’s all I’ve known ever since I can remember.”

You won’t admit it out loud, but you are impressed to see him be so passionate about something. “So, you’re close to your dad?”

The chuckle he lets out sounds almost bitter. “No, no, I’m not. I was sent to a boarding school when I was very young. Grew up there. Met Suguru and Shoko. Been home very less. My school’s coach was more of a father figure than my own dad ever was.”

Something pangs in your chest as you let his words sink in. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s cool, you know? My parents were too busy with their own lives, I was busy with mine– it’s just what I’m used to.”

“So you don’t contact them?”

“When I need something, sure.” He pauses for a second. “I know what you think of me, okay?” His voice has a hint of sincerity now. “You think of me as some spoiled brat who loves to spend daddy’s money. And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am that, shamelessly. But this is only because I realized at a very early age that money was the only way they would be present in my life, so I decided to exploit the shit out of it.”

You don’t have an answer to what he said. His experience of family is unique and unrelatable to you in every way. “I would’ve done the same if I were in your shoes,” you say, not quite believing your words. “You shouldn’t feel bad. You’re doing a great job.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “You think so?”

You try to hide your surprise at his reaction. “Yeah, I mean, you’re the captain of the team and the strongest player. You’ve been working so hard to get your grades up this semester, I’ve seen your dedication.”

He smiles at you– not his usual cheeky smirk, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me, Gojo, I’m just stating an observation.”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“Call me Satoru. It’s what my friends call me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Are we friends?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were nice to me just now. I doubt you’re nice to a lot of people.”

“Well…” you trail off.

“Well…?” he echoes as he stops his car in front of my dorm building.

You unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe a conversation for another day. Thanks for the ride, Go– Satoru.”

He smiles for a split second before it is wiped away and replaced with a pondering expression. “Wait–”

You stop before you can open the car door. “Yeah?”

“Let me walk you to your room.”

It’s your turn to smile now. “I can walk myself to the dorm, Satoru.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“Come on.”

He’s so cute– wait what? Why would your mind go there? That’s Satoru Gojo, a certified college whore.

“Fine, walk me to my dorm room,” you hear yourself say. What is wrong with you?

The two of you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the building gate. The midnight air sways against your face while your cardigan protects the rest of your body. The place is quiet, only crickets heard amongst the trees. The moonlight reflects on the cars parked in the parking lot as you and Satoru walk through it.

“So you were saying?” He breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You said ‘Well…’,” he points out.

You chuckle softly as you look away to the ground. “Nothing really… you said you doubt I’m nice to a lot of people; I was gonna say I don’t talk to a lot of people to begin with.”

He looks at you with his head tilted in confusion. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Not a lot of people approach me here, you know? I just… exist, I guess. I mean, I’ve got Shoko. I talk to Nanami and Utahime sometimes. I’m not completely friendless, so that’s nice.”

“Three people in a college with around 20,000 students isn’t really… you know…” He trails off.

You feel the walls around you crumble a little as you speak. “I know, I know. But like I said, no one approaches me, which makes sense. And I’m not one to randomly approach people. Not great with social cues.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Why would you say it makes sense for no one to approach you?”

Why was he asking you so many questions? You can’t remember the last time someone had been interested in getting to know you in this way.

“I’m a scholarship student, I’m not exactly…” You try to think of a word, “relevant in your social hierarchy.”

He is quiet after you say that, probably trying to figure out how to respond to that. So instead, you continue, “It doesn’t matter to me. I always think that if they don’t want me, I’ll make myself needed. I’ll become an important person. My parents may not be rich, but who says I can’t be?”

“So you’re really ambitious,” he says. “I mean, I kind of got that from er– your constant hustle.”

You laugh at his remark, appreciating his humor instead of showing you pity like most would.

The two of you begin to walk up the stairs to your floor when he asks, “Which floor is it again?”

“Second.”

“Right… I’ve never been here. Shoko’s always coming over to ours to hang out.”

“The three of you must be really close.” He nods. “Yeah, well, five now actually. Nanami and Haibara came along during our sophomore year when we moved in together. They are good athletes, so I thought keeping them close would be good for the team.”

You nod as you reach your dorm room and ring the doorbell. When Shoko doesn’t answer, Satoru says, “She’s probably at the library. Or with Suguru.”

You nod at the possibility as you take out your copy of the keys. The jingling echoes through the empty hallway. You unlock the door to reveal your room filled with darkness. Turning on the lights, you politely invite Satoru in, to which he happily obliges.

He casually plops down on your bed, his legs swinging down.

“Make yourself at home, don’t be shy,” you say sarcastically. His phone rings. When he picks it up, you watch his demeanor change as the person on the other side of the phone speaks.

“No, I told you guys to not attend any parties for a month,” he says in a serious tone that’s very unlike him. “We have practice first thing in the morning every day before the season starts, and I will not stand any mishaps.”

Listening to him scold his teammates and watching him be a good captain stirs something unknown in you. It’s so attractive for one to be this responsible and laidback at the same time. Your eyes roam around his big biceps, stopping at the hand that holds the phone against his ear. He has nice hands, you think, wondering how it might feel inside you.

Snap out of it.

You will not throw yourself to him only to be tossed aside. You remind yourself why you’re with him– for a job. A deal that benefits the both of you equally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why did you tell him things you’ve never admitted to anyone?

What bothers you more is the fact that he was so interested in getting to know you. The way he is always so grounded around you makes you wonder if your previous perception of him being an arrogant asshole was just a misconception.

He hangs up the phone and smiles sheepishly at you, his dimples denting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It was Haibara.”

“It’s fine,” you say as you subconsciously move forward and sit beside him on your bed.

“Hi,” he says as his blue eyes pierce through you.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to stop yourself from wondering what the hell he was doing in your dorm room of all places he could be right now. “Did you have to be somewhere?”

He scrunches his brows. “No, why?”

“No, I thought Haibara needed you or something.”

“Oh no, that’s been dealt with, don’t worry.”

When did you both sit so close together? You can almost feel his breath against your skin. “You have practice early in the morning.”

“I can function with less sleep.” He is almost too quick to answer.

Your faces are only inches away when his eyes fall to your lips. You close your eyes and feel his lips brush against yours. You kiss him back immediately.

Once you give him the green light, he deepens the kiss and you let out a low moan. His tongue enters your mouth as he hovers over you on the bed with you lying on your back. He trails his kisses down your jaw while pressing down to your tit with one hand.

His other hand trails to your inner thighs and you feel the heat pool between your legs. You let out a needy gasp, causing him to contact his lips against yours again while his hand unbuttons your jeans and slides inside them. He rubs your clothed pussy and intoxicated bliss spreads over you.

“Ahh, fuck, Satoru,” you whine. He takes that as a sign and slips his fingers inside your panties. Your eyes roll back when you feel two fingers thrust inside you while his thumb works on your clit.

“Nghh, Satoru, fuck, hahh don’t stop,” you don’t even know how loud you’re being, neither do you care right now.

As you say that, he takes his hand out of your pants, which makes you squirm needily. He positions himself such that he is facing between your legs. He reaches for the hem of your jeans as you lift your hips up and he pulls them down, followed by your panties, leaving your bottom bare in front of him.

He finally brings his face closer to your heat and licks a long stripe along the slit your pussy. You moan out in utter pleasure, spreading your legs further for better access. He begins to nibble at your clit, making you see splashes of euphoria in front your eyes. The pleasure is too all-consuming for you to even think of what’s right or wrong, of what you should or should not be doing. And you couldn’t be bothered to care about any of it right now.

He adds two fingers deep in your cunt, hitting the g-spot repeatedly as his mouth sucks on your clit. You feel the pressure build up like waves. “So close, Satoru, don’t stop,” you cry out. The waves crash over the shore with a loud moan escaping your lips.

You lay there panting, recovering from what you would call the best orgasm you’ve had in your life, as he sits up and looks down at you, a proud expression masking that pretty face of his, now all glistening in your juices.

The realization of what you just did hits you the moment the high dies down. You quickly close your legs and sit up, trying to find your panties.

“What happened?” Satoru asks in a concerned tone. You ignore him and put your underwear on.

Once you are done, you finally look at him. “Get out,” you state simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Gojo, leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” you echo his words. “Everything about this is wrong. I’m your tutor. I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you serious? I thought we–”

“No, I don’t know why I told you so much about myself. Starting tomorrow, everything is strictly professional, or I’m gonna have to quit.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that, you know that, right?” Satoru sounds determined.

“Yes, I very much can. I’m sorry but I simply won’t let you think you can have me like that just because you’re you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is that I know you hook up with like hundreds of girls, and I just don’t want to be another name you tick off on your list.”

He looks exasperated. “You think that’s what you are? A name on a list? First of all, I don’t have a fucking list. Secondly, I don’t hook up with hundreds of girls. I haven’t done that since freshman year.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to hook up with anyone.”

“You haven’t had sex since your freshman year?” Your voice is softer now.

“Not once.”

“Then why did you…” You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand it.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, really. It felt right.”

You would be lying if you say it didn’t feel right for you. But you don’t tell him that. Instead you ask, “Since when have you wanted to?”

He reveals his dimples at that question, “Since you asked me if I would cooperate with you if you tutored me.”

This brings a chuckle to your voice. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, something about you bossing me around was… you know.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re a dumbass,” you say as you lean forward and take his lips to yours.

131 notes · View notes

saintsugu · 1 year ago

Text

BROTHERLY LOVE. KINKTOBER DAY 1

rating: Mature; mdni

pairing: Step-brother!Megumi x reader

word count: 3.6k

contents: step/pseudo cest, heavy dub con, manipulation from megumi, megumi’s obsessed with purity, rich boy!megumi, vouyerism, masturbation, no prep, slight choking and coercion from yuuta at the end, megumi’s referred to mostly as reader’s brother.

author’s note: first thing i’ve fully written in over a year and it’s a kinktober post…😵‍💫 thank you to all the lovely people who beta’d this for me<3 @dilfhos @iwaasfairy @bunparade

You hear shuffling on the other end, presumably as he gets up to get the door for you.

Taking advantage of his three day weekend, Megumi invited you to spend the themat his apartment off-campus. You haven’t been able to see him much since the start of the semester, so you were glad to take him up on his offer.

You’d only met Megumi three years ago, the night his father and your mother announced their…impromptu engagement. Neither of you were really thrilled, but the entire situation was brightened infinitely when you started to get to know your soon-to-be step brother.

He was always so sweet to you. He would take you out for food, or on shopping sprees— using his daddy’s card to buy you whatever you so much as glanced at. A lot of the time, it was just the two of you at home and he always made sure you weren’t lonely. Honestly, he spoiled you rotten, so how could you be upset with the arrangement?

Toji, though, was a bit…off-putting. He was a lot meaner than his son. You would hear him make comments about how ditzy you were, and it hurt a lot. Thankfully, Megumi was always there to cheer you up.

You were so upset when he started university. He only visited on the holidays— sometimes not even then. The house felt so empty. You couldn’t help but miss your big brother. So when he came back for the summer, you were beyond grateful. Suddenly, your schedule was full again as the two of you spent every second together.

Naturally, you were overjoyed when he reached out. Life was getting boring just staying at home, and besides, you just missed him so much. School had never really been your thing, so you didn’t follow your step-brother to college— despite wanting to —and your step-father was kind enough to let you live at home for free, so you didn’t work a job. It was a mostly stress-free life, but without your brother around, it’d gotten a bit…dull.

When he called you, you were quick to throw a few outfits in a suitcase and catch the soonest train. You made sure to leave a scribbled little note for your mother to inform her of your whereabouts before taking off.

The train ride is hellishly long, but it’s all worth it when you see your step brother outside the door. He’s smiling warmly, wearing a sweater and some gray sweats as he greets you.

“Hey,” he’s quick to pull you into his arms. He smells good— like freshly sprayed cologne with hints of cedar and vanilla. You’re far too enthralled by his warmth to notice his hands creeping down a little further than warranted, or the way he lifts up the hem of your skirt, his dick twitching a bit as he takes note of your panties. “Come on in.”

The second you step foot into the spacious apartment, you’re met with a pungent smell. It’s so strong that it makes your nose scrunch up. You’ve smelled it before— at a few different parties, but why is it in your brother’s apartment?

“Sorry about the smell. My friends were just here a bit ago.” It’s not exactly a lie, but the red tint of his eyes is more than enough to prove that he was indulging, too.

You spend the afternoon catching up with Megumi, listening intently as he tells you censored versions of what he’s been up to. He can tell how starstruck you are as you listen with bated breath. It might make him sick, but he loves how you’ve always hung off his every word.

Ever since he was young, Megumi has watched his father go through women like they were nothing more than objects. The same rang true for the friends he started to gain in high school, and it wasn’t just the boys. He found that all of the girls were quite…promiscuous.

He never thought there was anything necessarily wrong with it— until he met his sweet little step-sister, that is.

That night at dinner, you were just so kind, nothing at all like the girls at his private school. They were all snobby and too good for him, but you, you were perfect; you are perfect. You’ve always been so malleable and kind hearted. He knew from the first time you went to get ice cream in his Cadillac, the way you apologized until there were tears filling your sweet eyes over a bit of spilled sprinkles. God, you’ve had him wrapped around your dainty little finger from the moment he met you.

“I was thinking we could go to brunch tomorrow.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch as he leans back, his ankle coming up to drape across his other knee. On cue, you pad over from where you are in his kitchen, plopping down right next to him. “There’s a cute little joint nearby that I know you’ll love.”

His kind words warm your chest, making your cheeks rise into a smile. He’s always looking out for you or thinking of you. He’s even sent you a few dresses while he’s been away! They’re a bit….small, but you figure he just got your sizing wrong. Either way, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Tonight, though, I was wondering if you wanted to meet some of my friends. They were all excited when I told them you were visiting.” Too excited for Megumi’s liking. “It won’t be a lot, just three or four guys coming over for a bit. Only if you want, though.” Even before you answer, he knows that you’ll say yes. You’d never deny him anything, but it makes him look good if he gives you an out.

“Oh that’ll be fun!” You grin innocently. “We can watch movies.”

God, he loves the way you beam at him. Your innocence is such a refresher. But, as much as he loves it, you also make him want to tear it away from you before anyone else can. Sometimes, he just wants to break you down and build you back up from scratch. He knows it’s sick— that he shouldn’t feel like this towards his supposed sister, but he can’t help it. It’s just the way his mind works.

As the clock starts to slip into the evening hours, there are continuous knocks at his front door, all one after another. Yuuji Itadori is the first to arrive. You’ve met him once before, during Thanksgiving break when Megumi brought him along. His rambunctious voice and laugh fills the air of Megumi’s, otherwise, stale apartment. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips when Yuuji slaps your step-brother on the back a little too hard, causing him to swear in pain and you both laugh at the scowl he shoots his way.

Yuuji is quickly followed by Kokichi Muta. He’s much more timid in comparison. It’s a bit…confusing when you notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks when he lays eyes on you.

Next, Noritoshi Kamo, and lastly— and arguably the most important out of the four— Yuuta Okkotsu.

Megumi has been trying to find himself in Yuuta’s good graces since his first semester of his freshman year. Not only is Yuuta two grades his senior, but he’s the vice president of the fraternity Megumi has been wanting to rush since his junior year of high school.

Megumi’s kind enough to introduce you to his friends, but you can feel your cheeks heat up when their eyes linger for a little longer than you’d expect. They all make themselves comfortable on the two couches, hands wrapped around the beer’s bottleneck while they snicker amongst themselves. You’ve been keeping Megumi company in the kitchen, but not paying enough attention to notice the amount of drinks he had brought to the couch. When he finally sits down, you’re close behind him.

“Here, have some,” he opens the bottle of beer and hands it to you, despite the confused look on your face. He knows you don’t drink, but he also knows that means your tolerance is nonexistent and that it's going to make his life a lot easier.

Any words of rebuttal get stuck in your throat. Your eyebrows pull into a frown, but you sheepishly take the drink anyway. You don’t like being intoxicated; Megumi calls it an irrational fear, but you can’t help it. The drink feels foreign in your hands, but he’d never do anything to hurt you, right?

Despite the sour taste of the beer, you swallow it anyway. You don’t want to embarrass Megumi by acting like a fool in front of his friends. Yuuji starts a conversation and soon enough, you’ve finished the bottle. Unfortunately, you’re too preoccupied running your mouth to notice when Megumi sets another in your hand, and you obediently continue sipping.

You don’t even know how many you’ve downed by the time you pause and realize your head feels dizzy. Megumi finds it adorable— the way your face flushes and your words start to slur. You try and fail to whisper to him about how tired you are, and it earns a snicker from Yuuta. Good, he thinks. I need to keep his attention.

“C’mere.” You don’t think much when Megumi pats his lap. Your movements are much more sluggish and there’s a surge of warmth in your chest that you can’t quite place as you climb onto him, nuzzling your head into his neck. Everything feels so overwhelming, especially when you hear his friend whistle. You don’t know why, and you’re too out of it to ask or even guess why. Little do you know, it’s because your tiny skirt has been flipped up for everyone to get a glimpse of your ass.

“Shit, y’gonna share, right?” There’s a nasty grin on Noritoshi’s face as he takes a long sip from his beer.

“You wish,” Megumi mumbles lowly, a dark and possessive tone underlying his seemingly nonchalant words. Strong hands slide down your body before landing on your hips. “Hey, pretty.” His voice is just a whisper, but you know that he’s talking to you.

“Yeah, ‘Gumi?” You ask sweetly. He loves when you call him that. Despite it just being a variation of his name, he finds it so fucking adorable that his cock jumps in his pants every time he hears it.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” He feels you nod and he can’t help but smile at how pliant and ready you are to please him. “Nothing new,” he whispers, and you can’t help but shiver a bit.

“We’re just gonna do what we usually do—play how we do when it’s just us,” a soft hand traces hearts on your bare thigh. “And we’re gonna pretend like my friends aren’t here, okay?”

What?

This all feels…weird, and a little scary. But you know that your big brother would never hurt you— of course not! But what if he’s friends with bad men and doesn’t know it? What if…what if something goes wrong?

His words confuse you. Usually, when you’re playing together in the way he means, he always tells you not to do it with anyone else, that it should be reserved for your brother only, so why is he changing his mind?

“I asked a question, baby.” His once soft touch turns firmer until you squeak out an unsure okay, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck. “Good girl,” he purrs. “Y’always so good for me.”

You’re no longer able to think about how anxious and unsure you are as your step-brother pulls you into a soft kiss. Soon, he’s filling up every one of your senses. He’s the only thing you can feel, smell, or hear, and it’s nearly suffocating.

It’s simple, really. He knows every single thing that turns you on and drives you insane; hell, he created those things. When you met, you were a virgin who didn’t even know what oral was.

Despite his overwhelming touches, your attention isn’t stuck on him. His friends are all slumped back on the couch and staring straight at you. Their gazes make you feel trapped. There’s a tightening in your chest before Megumi's stern voice breaks you out of your trance. “Don’t look at them,” he scolds, a soft hand redirecting your jaw. “C’mon, baby, look at me.”

Nothing in the world can get him as hard as he is when he sees that look on your face—those big, near tearful eyes that are just begging for him to make it all better.

As much as he wants to take care of you, there’s still a part of him, a sick and twisted part of him that sits right beneath the surface, too deep down to ignore. That's what’s making him do this. Megumi believes that these feelings can only be attributed to his father’s genetics. It’s not his fault that he wants to ruin you. He knows someone will take advantage of your naivety one day, so why can’t it be him? He deserves that much, doesn’t he?

“You know I’d never hurt you.” You wouldn’t know the difference, he thinks to himself. You look so worried, but he can’t figure out why. Most of the time, there’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, so what’s running through it now? Honestly, he doesn’t care too much; instead, his hand continues to slide down your back with no regard for your anxiety.

Despite his words, he can tell you’re anxious. It irritates him a bit, but instead of letting it show, he just leans back against the couch. “Go ahead, baby. Take that shirt off for me.” The thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh encourages you.

Your throat feels dry as your big brother puts you on the spot. Nerves shoot through your body at the mere prospect of upsetting him. The thought of him being disappointed in you is a quick way to get your shaky hands pulling at your skimpy tank top.

Manicured nails tug at the hem of it, eyes trained only on Megumi as you pull it over your head. The air feels bitter when it hits your skin but heat from Megumi’s burning gaze warms you.

“Good girl.” His praise makes you melt, especially with all that booze in your system. You can’t even remember how much he had you drink. Every time you even began to try and protest, he would just press the rim to your lips and tell you to drink.

A hand on your waist pulls you in, and it’s not long before he has his tongue halfway down your throat. You’re so overwhelmed with simply trying to breathe that you don’t see Megumi pull his cock out. It’s already hard— pretty much has been since you arrived, and he’s not at all sly as he pulls your panties to the side.

In contrast to yours that are screwed shut, his eyes are wide as they meet with Yuuta. Fuck, Yuuta’s gaze is piercing. It’s so clear that he’s judging him. Yuuta is leaning back into the cushion, his ankle crossed over his leg and his expression reads as if he’s bored. And that only spurs Megumi on further. He’s so desperate to show off in front of the man.

He won’t admit it, but he’s had a slight crush on the man since he started University; honestly, it’s evident in the way his cock pulses simply from Yuuta’s judgemental stare.

“G-Gumi..!” You gasp into his open lips, taken completely off guard. In the past, he’s always talked you through it. He would make sure you were prepped thoroughly before trying to nestle deep inside of you. Now, though, you can’t help but feel he’s being mean as he lifts your hips, just to force you down on his cock.

“Shit,” Noritoshi laughs, palming himself through his sweats. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Fushiguro.” His words earn a disgruntled scowl from Megumi. In turn, you feel his hands grip you impossibly tighter, as if he’s visibly laying claim to you.

He ignores his taunts, far too focused on his baby sister’s sweet and tight cunt. Fuck, it’s tighter than he remembers. Knowing you, you never did so much as finger yourself while he’s been away. This past summer, he told you that he’d know if you had. Thankfully for him, you were naive enough to believe him.

Soon enough, you’re tucked against his chest as he grinds you over his cock. You squeeze the fabric of his shirt between dainty hands; your hold is so tight he’s worried the threads will snap. The shirt’s quite expensive, so he should care about you potentially ruining it, but he can’t bring himself to when he’s balls deep inside of you.

A vicious grin finds his face when he takes in the state of his apartment. Noritoshi and Kokichi shamelessly have their cocks out, jacking off lazily to the sight in front of them. Yuuji, on the other hand, takes a more…reserved approach. His lip is tucked between his teeth, nearly quivering as he not-so-discreetly palms his painfully hard cock.

As you near your orgasm, Megumi takes advantage of your fucked out state. Usually, he’s so sweet and gentle, but tonight, he can’t help but be a little rough as he forces you into a new position. He manhandles you until you’re face down, with your tits pressed into the glass table.

As much as he loves your tits, Megumi’s always been a sucker for this angle. With his hands having free reign of your ass, he could never get tired of the view.

You’re pulled out of your near orgasmic high and thrown into the reality of who’s watching. “I-I…” you stammer nervously, still whimpering as Megumi fucks into you.

“Hey, pretty,” Noritoshi teases, leaning in slightly. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”

You’re quick to deny his accusation. “‘Gumi says ‘m a good girl…” you turn your head to look at your big brother. “…right, ‘Gumi?”

“Yeah, you are.” He’s groaning as his pace picks up, making your toes curl as you grip onto nothing. He’s fighting back the urge to cum with every thrust. “My good girl.”

Your eyes roll when he hits deep inside of you—the sight is something straight out of a porno as your tits slide against the glass surface. All you have on is a skimpy little bralette, one that any of these guys could snap with ease. With your tongue lolling out, every single guy in the room, with Yuuta being the exception, is groaning and pumping just a bit faster.

Yuuta, on the other hand, is just watching. Not once as he adjusted himself or even re-situated on the couch. He almost looks…bored, and that worries Megumi beyond belief.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, y’gotta let me get in on this. At least let me take her throat or something.” All Noritoshi’s doing is running his mouth and it’s starting to get on his nerves. In no world is he letting any of these vile men get their greedy hands on his baby sister. You’re too pure for that.

“Be quiet,” he snaps, rough hands tugging at the fat of your hips. His eyes cut at his friend, a sinister look in them. The boy backs off, if only for now as Megumi gets closer to his high.

You feel something brewing in your lower stomach. It’s not unfamiliar— you only get it with Megumi, but it’s more…intense this time. Instead of the slow and gentle buildup you usually get, this time it’s hurtling at you.

“Gumi,” you stammer out, eyes still rolling as your acrylics scrape at the table. “D-don’t know what’s happening….!”

He’s quick to shush you. The last thing he needs is your whining ruining his orgasm. “‘S okay, baby,” he purrs, a firm hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you cheek-first into the glass. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

His pace grows erratic with his approaching orgasm being so close. His dick pulses inside of you and with one last groan, he pushes deep inside of you as his orgasm washes over.

His entire body shivers in its wake, and that feeling is only amplified when you start to twitch as well. Your cunt grows impossibly tight as your pleasure peaks, and your walls milk him of every drop of his cum— so much so, that it’s starting to leak out and drip down your inner thighs.

“Good girl.” He’s completely out of breath, but he knows the praise is what you need. The small sobs and hiccups that escape your lips are clear indicators of the praise you’ll need from your big brother. “Did so good, baby…”

A soft hand traces up and down your body and he can’t help but feel a little smug when he sees that three out of the four men came as well— Yuuji, unfortunately in his pants.

But that’s only three, he realizes. It seems that Yuuta disappeared between now and right before his orgasm hit. Where could he have gone—

“That was good.” His voice is low in Megumi’s ear as he leans over the couch. Megumi freezes and he swears that the hairs on his neck stand up. His nearly soft cock twitches a bit at the praise.

“Now why don’t you let me have a try and I’ll see what I can do about extending a bid.”

tagging: @pussydrunkfyodor @kkittycries @saintriots @chaoticmoonave @enchantedforest-network

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #.kinktober 2023 #tw stepcest #.ezra’s writing #.file } megumi

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targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

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SEE YOU AGAIN

pairings: robb stark x fem!targaryen!reader, platonic!stark family x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: i had only two drafts and this was one of them!! might just get back into got/hotd writing! god this was written a while ago

Within an hour you wound up being introduced to the entire Stark family. You especially liked Ayra, she reminded you of Rhaenyra in certain aspects such as her rebellious behaviour. Although you did have to cover your head with a scarf for the most part, your violet eyes were quite hard to miss. You chalked it up to a birth defect and were introduced as a maiden of the Red Keep, returning home for marriage but also a friend of the Eldest three children.

You yourself had never visited the North before, as your parents had deemed it unworthy of being visited by a Princess. But you found yourself growing fond of the place despite its cold nature.

You had also found Nyraxes huddled in front of a bonfire in a near by cave. Surprisingly she hadn’t torched the entire area and it’s inhabitants. You had wondered how the Starks had managed to tame a dragon.

But at the moment you were more concerned about getting home. As nice as it was to be in the area, you found yourself surprisingly longing for the Red Keep. Currently you found yourself dining with the family, the food seemed foreign, scarcely containing any notable fruit or vegetables but Jon had explained the lack of crop in such harsh times, which you understood. You felt uncomfortable, out of place.

Everyone chatted so freely, everyone knew each other where as you were an outsider in every way. Your gorgeous purple eyes in contrast to the ever so common brown and black, bright, striking silver hair which was no longer covered, compared to red and brown.

“Y/n, who are you marrying my dear?” Catelyn questioned you as the entire table diverted their gaze to you. Your face became hot, especially under Robb’s sharp gaze. “Yes Y/n, who are you betrothed to?” You felt like ripping him a new one, perhaps feeding him to Nyra.

“I’ve returned home for my parents, we’re heading up to Casterly Rock for the wedding, he’s a lord but I doubt you would know of him your grace.” Laughs bellowed out around you, Robb loudest of all.

“Your grace?” Robb cried out. “Hush you all. She has decorum and respect unlike most, why mock her for it? My dear, please, call me Catelyn.”

You nodded.

Ed and Catelyn still didn’t know of your real name, nor your lineage/descent. That much they may have been able to get their heads around but you weren’t so sure they would have opened up their castle to you quite so swiftly if they knew of the, as most royals and small folk would claim, “Beast” in the caves.

You sat at your windowsill looking out onto the courtyard as a someone knocked on your door. “You alright if I come in love?” You allowed him in. “Not the view your used to?” You nodded, “I wish to go home Robb. But if what you say is true how can I? All the Targaryens are gone. My Aemond, ended up dead in battle Above the Gods Eye along with my Uncle Daemon. Aegon, Helaena, Her children, Otto, Rhaenyra, Nyra, Jace, Luke everyone. In the history books and life I am forever known as the Princess who Hid. A coward.” You cried as he sat down and hugged you.

As he soothed you Robb slowly raised you face to him, as he wiped away your tears. “Not everyone.” Your head shot up, “What?” You croaked, “I didn’t finish the book my love. Aenys the mad King has two surviving children. Daenerys and Viserys. Although Viserys passed away a long time ago.”

“A-and Daenerys?” “Alive, and well as it seems. She’s been wed to Khal Drogo seemingly pregnant too as it seems.” Robb swiped a stray hair behind your ear as he leaned in, so did you.

You woke up the next morning after Robb as his side of the bed was seemingly empty. You prayed to the old gods and new that no one had heard the two of you yesterday. And if they did that they wouldn’t mention anything it. Everyone had broke their fast earlier on in the day as you had slept longer than usual. You weren’t use to having such lengthy nights of rest but were more than grateful.

After dressing you walked the halls with Arya for a bit before making your way to the courtyard where everyone seemed to have gathered for something, it wasn’t long before Sansa pulled you in front of all the people where the reason for the spectacle (rather reasons) came into view.

Robb was laughing loudly before Jon attacked, blade in hand. Robb swiftly moved to the side away from Jon and used his blade to propel Jon forwards again. As Jon fell Robb raised his sword to his neck.

“And you’re dead.”

Jon laughed, “Perhaps you should become a knight brother.”

They’re laughter stopped as you stepped out, fully dressed in your old clothes and determined. “I take it you’re planning on leaving now?” You smiled and nodded, “I appreciate your hospitality Robb, Jon. But if I do have surviving family than I must go to them. Thank you, truly.” You spoke as you walked past them, as much as you wished to stay longer you knew you’re descendants needed your help.

So as you mounted your Nyraxes, you couldn’t help but look back at him.

Maybe, you’d see him again.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader

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coloursparks · 1 year ago

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Not Like That

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Summary: Things change over the summer holiday with Sebastian, and then things get messy. Might as well spend the first few weeks of your last year fighting about it. WC: 6.1k Notes: Oh god, the first fic I've written in like six years and I am sure it's shit. I am sorry if characterization is off. It takes me a minute?? I also have zero clue if I want this to be canon compliant or not so there's absolutely no mention of Anne or what happened! Also, no beta so please don't be too harsh. I just wanted to have fun writing a thing and hopefully someone else enjoys it!

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How else am I supposed to look?” you asked Imelda. “Do you hear yourself talk?”

“Do you?” she shot back, giving you the same exasperated look you were giving her. “If you don’t say something about it soon, you’re going to lose your chance. I’m not sure I can hold them at bay much longer.”

“I don’t know what chance you think I should have,” you said, though you didn’t sound as confident about it. The fact of the matter was you knew exactly what Imelda was talking about, and she was right. You hated that she was right.

“Sallow’s come back a foot taller and just bigger and you aren’t the only one who’s noticed,” she pointed out. “Violet’s determined to slip him a love potion. I’ve been trying to tell her he’s already involved, but considering I can’t say who, it hasn’t worked all too well.”

“I hate her,” you muttered, feeling a prick of jealousy.

“You hate anyone who so much as bats an eyelash at him,” Imelda pointed out. “You can save yourself the trouble but just telling him that you fancy him and snog in the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks already.”

“Imelda!”

“Or snog him somewhere else. I happen to quite like the upstairs of the Three Broomsticks for that sort of thing, but to each their own,” she said simply, shrugging. She was unashamed, and part of you envied her for it.

“It’s not that simple,” you sighed, giving her a pleading look.

“And why not?”

“Because…because…” you stammered, trying to find a reason that would satisfy your friend. When none came to mind as she stared at you expectantly, you groaned and rested your head on your crossed arms on the table in front of you. “He’s going to have a right laugh at me, Imelda.”

“No, he will not,” she said, poking you in the shoulder. You looked up at her, already defeated and resigned to the fact that despite your years-long pining for Sebastian Sallow, nothing would ever come at it.

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“Because Sallow’s a lot of things, but he’s not that cruel. Besides, for all you know, he could be whining to Ominus about how much he fancies you but thinks he has no chance,” she pointed out. “Now, come on. We’ll be late, and Hecat swore to put me in detention if I was late again.” The two of you stood from the table in the library where you had been sitting, gathering up your belongings before heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“Why are you so late all the time anyway?” you asked curiously as you held open the door into Central Hall for her.

“Flying,” she answered simply.

Of course. It was Imelda - you should have known.

___

“Mr. Sallow, why must you always duel in my classroom?”

Professor Hecat was only just leaving her office as you and Imelda entered and seemed too busy repairing the collateral damage from Sebastian’s duel with Leander Prewett to notice the two of you sneaking to nearby seats. The room was righting itself as Sebastian raised his hands up to the professor, taking a few steps away from the dueling platform he had been standing on.

“Because, Professor, there isn’t another place where dueling is sanctioned,” he pointed out, his voice conveying innocence he didn’t possess. You rolled your eyes because you knew full well that dueling being sanctioned didn’t stop him from doing it. Crossed Wands meetings and plenty of adventures proved otherwise, and the look Hecat was giving him also showed she knew otherwise.

“Let’s see if we can make it through the term without you destroying my classroom, Mr. Sallow.”

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, raising his wand and muttering a hasty spell to repair the nearby broken desk. It righted itself in one piece, still smoking slightly. “It won’t happen again.” He shot her a smile before heading to a nearby seat. “Imelda, what are you doing here? I didn’t realize Quidditch players needed N.E.W.T.S. Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he chuckled as he leaned forward to look at her.

“I take no chances,” Imelda replied cooly. “You never know what an opponent will do to get ahead, and knowing how to unjinx a broom can’t hurt.”

“If you say so,” he said, still smiling as he shook his head. “And my favorite Hufflepuff returns. I was starting to wonder if you even still went here,” he joked, elbowing you gently in the arm.

“No, still here,” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to rub the tingling feeling out of your arm where he had touched you. It was ridiculous, letting a simple touch get to you, but everything was ridiculous when he was involved.

Before either of you could say anything else, Professor Hecat was calling for the class to focus on her so she could teach. You tried your best to pay attention, but the fact you were next to Sebastian was nothing short of distracting. Words came out of the professor’s mouth and you tried to hold onto them, only for them to slip through your fingers because Sebastian was making that focused face he always made when he was trying to learn something, brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue poking out as he scribbled on parchment.

It was the first time you had really gotten to see him up close. Sebastian had certainly grown over the summer holiday – he was broader and if there were any doubts, the way his sleeves were pulled taut over his arms put them to rest. He was a head taller than last year, and you cursed him mentally for somehow having even more freckles. He had left sixth year looking more like a boy and returned for seventh year looking like a man, and you certainly hadn’t been the only one who noticed.

Part of the reason why Sebastian had joked about not knowing if you had come back to Hogwarts was that you hadn’t been able to get his attention before now. You had seen him on the Hogwarts Express, but he and Ominis had been having such an intense-seeming conversation that you hadn’t wanted to interrupt. You had tried to end up in the same carriage on the way up to the school, but before you could tell him that you had room in your carriage, Violet McDowell was pulling him into hers with Sebastian tugging Ominis in too.

Dejected and a little annoyed, you had ridden up to the school in huffy silence with Imelda and Poppy.

Outside of trying to wave at Sebastian from the Hufflepuff table after the sorting, you hadn’t bothered to get his attention. He was clearly enjoying the attention of the girls that somehow seemed to find every free space around him. You could have sworn that you saw Imelda notice the upset look on your face, but you decided to jab at your roast potatoes instead of looking at the Slytherin table any longer.

It was the bell to signal the end of class that shook you from your stupor. You had zoned out watching Sebastian, who blissfully hadn’t noticed the attention. Unfortunately for you, Imelda certainly had. She gave you a look that very clearly said that her thoughts from your earlier conversation hadn’t changed. Luckily, before she could say anything about it, Sebastian was ducking in the way.

“Imelda, Quidditch,” he said quickly, noticing he needed to head her off talking about something, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“What about it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she packed her belongings.

“Tryouts,” Sebastian said simply. “Want to know when they’re happening. Decided to finally try out.” When Imelda gave eyed him suspiciously, like she thought she was walking into a trap of some kind, he sighed and added, “I was told to do something more productive and sanctioned with my time.”

“You’re serious?” Imelda asked. “What position?”

“Beater. You need those, right?”

“We do,” she agreed. She glanced over at you, sighed, and then looked back to Sebastian. “I’m going down to the pitch before Potions if you want to practice before tryouts and I can give you tips to improve.”

You wanted to laugh. As much as Imelda probably wanted you and Sebastian alone together so you could confess the feelings you still wouldn’t admit to, her love of Quidditch won out. Secretly, you were thankful for it.

“Do you want to join us?” Sebastian asked hopefully, looking over at you. “Get a leg up on your Slytherin competition.”

“Hufflepuff still wouldn’t stand a chance,” Imelda pointed out, and you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’ve got Divination,” you told him, choosing to ignore Imelda’s teasing.

“You’re still taking that?”

You shrugged in response. “I like Professor Onai. Plus, someone has to keep Natty company,” you explained. “You two don’t get bloodied up too bad without me.”

“Don’t worry, if Sallow’s any good, his pretty face will stay pretty,” Imelda laughed, and you knew that she was trying to get a rise out of you. Sebastian, thankfully, seemed a bit preoccupied with the comment himself to notice the color rising in your cheeks. You excused yourself with the excuse of not wanting to be late to class before things could get any more awkward.

____

In the weeks after, you had seen more of Sebastian, and then suddenly a lot less. Unsurprisingly, he ended up making the Quidditch team. With the beginning of the Quidditch season coming up, Imelda had them practicing at all hours, meaning that her time to try and press the issue of your feelings for Sebastian was blissfully cut short.

Luckily, you could at least still spend time with other friends who either didn’t notice what Imelda had or at least had the grace not to press you about it. Without Sebastian around, you seemed to find Ominis on his own more, and the nice part about spending time with him was that he didn’t seem to give a damn about your romantic life nor did he want to divulge on his own the way Poppy and Adelaide had been as of late. You were happy for your friends, but the constant questions about your own because the two Hufflepuffs weren’t as well-versed in your emotions as Imelda was getting to be a little much.

“What do you think you’ll do once you graduate?”

Ominis had been talking about what his own plans were as the two of you walked toward Hogsmeade. The two of you were friends, sure, but more because you had a mutual friend than because you spent any significant time together before now. You were catching up on the more interesting things now that the two of you were spending time together without Sebastian.

“When we did career conversations with our Heads of House, I thought I wanted to work for the Ministry but something about it doesn’t feel right anymore,” you told him, stepping out of the way of a witch carrying a stack of books with a cauldron perched precariously on top. “Bit mad to expect a bunch of children to decide what to do with their lives just like that, you know?”

“You sound like Sebastian,” he pointed out, chuckling slightly. “Says he might not bother with curse-breaking at all now. Might want to play Quidditch professionally instead.”

“He hasn’t played in a single game,” you laughed. “The season doesn’t start for another week and he wants to be a professional now?”

“Apparently so.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Well,” Ominis started, “you can ask him all about it later. He’s meeting us here after practice–if Imelda’s left enough of the team.”

“I didn’t know he was coming,” you said casually, trying to ignore the excitement from the news and the slight feeling of dread. As much as you liked Imelda, you hoped she wouldn’t be joining because you weren’t ready for another round of heavy-handed comments about you and Sebastian.

“The second I said you and I were going to Hogsmeade, he said he was joining,” he explained, shrugging. “You haven’t seen much of him lately, have you?”

“Outside of classes? No,” you sighed. “He seems too busy for me these days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” you said, biting your lip.

You didn’t want to get into it with Ominis. He didn’t need to know how much it bugged you to see Sebastian at meal times, talking to the rest of the team or those girls that somehow always seemed to hang around him. He didn’t need to know how disappointed you were every time you couldn’t even get Sebastian’s attention to say hello, and when you did, half the time he was rushing off somewhere. You felt thoroughly left behind and the fact you cared so much about him made it hurt all that much more. The less Ominis knew about all of that, the better.

“He’s just been busy with Quidditch,” you replied finally, in too airy of a voice to be entirely convincing.

Thankfully, he let the topic of your mutual friend slide as you got into the village. You had needed to restock for Potions, and Ominis seemed uncharacteristically cheery in Honeydukes

and you didn’t have the heart to suggest going elsewhere when he wanted to explore. Leaving close to an hour later with your coin purses lighter but pockets heavier, you managed to get into and out of Gladrag’s with only the new scarf you had intended to buy before heading to the Three Broomsticks.

“There you two are!” Sebastian was sitting at a table in the corner, waving at the two of you. Your heart skipped at the look of the smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back and wave to show that you spotted him.

“Would you mind grabbing the Butterbeers?” Ominis asked, turning towards the sound of Sebastian’s voice.

“Consider it done,” you told him, giving him a pat on the arm before heading to the bar. “Sirona! Can I get two Butterbeers?” She waved to show that she heard you, even as she was dealing with something else behind the bar. You looked around to see if there was other students in the pub, and you spotted a few younger Hufflepuffs and, a few tables over, Garreth Weasley and Everett Clopton discussing something on a piece of parchment in front of them. That was…dangerous.

The only other table of interest was the one you were heading to, and as you looked over at it, you saw Sebastian looking at you, still smiling. You smiled back, feeling a little silly at how easy it was for him to make you feel the way he did.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Sirona commented as she slid two full glasses in front of you. You whipped around, giving her a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“Sebastian’s been watching that door like his life depended on it,” she said. “Waiting for you.”

“Well, Ominis doesn’t come to the village often,” you pointed out, taking your drinks. “He was probably just worried about him and won’t admit it. Boys, you know.”

“Perhaps,” Sirona said, but the look on her face showed that she didn’t believe what you were saying. You pushed what you owed for the drinks toward her, and picked up the Butterbeer. She left it there, and you headed over to your friends. You placed Ominis’ drink in front of him before settling in the free seat.

“If we don’t win, I’m quitting,” Sebastian was telling Ominis.

“Already?” you asked, giving Sebastian an amused look.

“You have no idea what Imelda is like Captain,” he responded, shaking his head. “She woke us up before dawn this morning.”

“I feel like you knew what you were signing up for,” you laughed. “It’s not like it’s a surprise that Imelda is…intense.”

“But add a little power over people,” he sighed, “and you’ll be playing Quidditch every moment you’re not in class or asleep.”

“Just the way she likes it,” you pointed out, taking a sip of your drink. “I thought you wanted to play professionally?”

“Yeah but…” he trailed off. “When did I tell you that?”

“I told her before,” Ominis piped in. “She talks to you even less than I do. We compare notes,” he added dryly. You laughed at the comment. It was perfectly true. Sebastian and you would talk maybe for a minute before class or after, but Ominis at least saw him in the Slytherin Common Room. The two of you talked about other things, but the conversation would always turn to Sebastian at one point or another.

Sebastian frowned, but before he could say anything else about it, Ominis was talking about something else. For a while, Sebastian was uncharacteristically quiet as you two chatted about nothing in particular and drank your Butterbeers. Slowly, he became more himself, and you had to admit, it was nice to have what felt like the “old days” back again. It felt like you were back in the Undercroft, and not fighting for Sebastian’s attention.

Once all three glasses were empty, you stood up and scooped them into your arms. “I’ll go get us more,” you declared, smiling brightly. You didn’t want things to end just yet, so another round of drinks made the most sense. You had barely been up at the bar for a minute when your seat was taken by Violet McDowell. She had pulled the chair closer to Sebastian and was leaning so near him she might as well be in his lap, and Ominis was looking almost as annoyed as you were. Sirona said nothing about the look on your face other than a glance over to your table and a head shake.

Unable to carry all three drinks, you instead charmed the filled glasses to float in front of you as you headed back to the table. You let the three of them fall with more force than you meant to, causing loud thuds and Butterbeer to slop out over the rims and onto the table. Ominis, who couldn’t know that he should move back the way Sebastian had, got the brunt of the spill.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, more to him than the other two. “Just got away from me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the castle with me?” Violet was simpering, ignoring what had just happened. “You said you’d help me with my Charms work, Bas.” You almost snorted at the nickname but managed to cover it up with a cough.

“I’ll meet you back in the common room later,” Sebastian told her, “go ahead without me.” Violet pouted, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek and look away from her. She was certainly shameless.

“Fine! But you promised,” Violet huffed before getting up and heading out, ignoring the other two people at the table completely. Ominis was trying to clean up the spilled Butterbeer so he either didn’t notice or care about Violet’s departure.

“I’m going to wash up,” Ominis said, standing up and shaking his hands.

“I’m really sorry, Ominis,” you sighed, and he just shook his head.

“Accidents happen.” He disappeared upstairs, leaving you and Sebastian alone for the first time since before the summer holiday. You pulled your chair back to where it had been before Violet showed up and sat down.

Things were quiet between the two of you for a long moment. Both of you seemed more interested in your drinks than speaking, and neither one of you looked at the other. It was Sebastian who finally broke the silence.

“So…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ominis lately,” he mentioned casually. You shrugged, looking over at him.

“I guess,” you agreed. “You and Imelda have been busy with Quidditch, so it’s just been the two of us.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that the only reason?” he asked in the same casual voice, leaning forward as if he was expecting you to spill about some secret mission you and Ominis were planning. It was then that you realized that you hadn’t pulled the chair back all the way, and with your back facing the corner where the table was settled, Sebastian was boxing you in. If Sebastian had looked like he had grown before, close up, he looked to have doubled in size with him so closer now. He seemed almost impossibly broad now, and you felt nothing short of tiny in comparison. You looked up at him, confused, blushing slightly.

“Yes?” you said nervously. “Why would there be another reason?”

“Don’t know,” he responded, settling his arm on the table as he continued to lean towards you, resting his head against his hand. “I haven’t seen you much this year so I thought…” he started, but you cut him off.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian,” you huffed. “You’re the one who doesn’t have any time for me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian looked taken aback at your words.

“You’re joking, right?” you said, leaning in a little closer as you stared him down. “You’ve barely said two words for me outside of class. You don’t bother to even say hi at meals anymore.”

“I haven’t seen you,” he explained, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Of course, you haven’t seen me.” You rolled your eyes, frustration that had been bubbling finally coming to the surface. “You’re at practice or going to class or busy showing off for Violet and those other girls that follow you around.”

“I’m not showing off for Violet,” he shot back. “Or any of those other girls. I’m not asking them to do that!”

“And you’re not telling them to leave you alone either,” you pointed out, temper creeping into your voice. “You sure seem to be loving the attention every time I see you. Why would you bother looking up to say hi to me when you have…”

“What are you two talking about?”

Ominis had reappeared at the table. Sebastian slid back, no longer crowding you into the corner, looking annoyed.

“Nothing,” he told the other boy. He drained his entire Butterbeer before standing up. “I should head back to the Castle. Quidditch doesn’t leave much time for homework. I should catch up.” He didn’t bother waiting for either of you to say anything before starting to leave.

“Tell Violet we say hi, Bas.” The words were out of your mouth before you thought about it, and there was a small part of you that looked satisfied as a guilty look appeared on his face, but then replaced by a look of defiance.

“I’ll see you back at the common room, Ominis,” he said and was gone a moment later. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you sighed. You looked at your drink, not really wanting it anymore. “Can we go back to school? I…uh, I think we’re getting close to curfew.”

“Right,” Ominis agreed, nodding. “Floo powder is faster.”

“Works for me,” you sighed, letting him lead the way over to the fire.

_____

The first Quidditch match of the season had the entire castle beside itself. You couldn’t share in the enthusiasm-–even fellow Hufflepuffs were excited to see Ravenclaw vs Slytherin—because it meant having to see Sebastian out on the field. Even in classes over the last week, you determinedly avoided so much as looking at him. Imelda, blissfully, was too worked up about the game to notice.

In the end, you decided to go to support her.

It hadn’t been too bad. Most of the other Hufflepuffs you were sitting with were cheering for Ravenclaw, but you and Poppy were too excited for Imelda to join in. It certainly got you two some looks from people nearby, but the excitement of seeing her score twice in a row made it easy to ignore. Despite your annoyance with him, it was still something else to see Sebastian zip by, sending bludgers toward the Ravenclaw Chasers.

You weren’t any less glad when you two were waiting for Imelda to come out of the changing room that she was the last one out.

“Sallow went up with the rest of the team before,” she told you as you hugged her.

“I don’t care,” you huffed. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why don’t you care? Could have gotten to him before Violet McDowell did.”

“Why would you want to get Sebastian before Violet McDowell?” Poppy asked, looking between you and Imelda. You led the way back up towards the castle, your friends following behind.

“I don’t,” you responded, shaking your head.

“What happened?” Imelda asked. “He was strange when I mentioned you before too.”

“Nothing happened,” you said. “He’d rather spend time with Violet McDowell? Fine. I don’t care.”

“Why does it matter who Sebastian spends time with?” Poppy asked. Then, she stopped. “Oh, you fancy him, don’t you?”

“Not anymore I don’t,” you huffed. “Now can we just leave it be?” Poppy, who you two hadn’t stopped for, ran to catch up with you. Imelda just laughed.

“He might be big on reading, but Sallow is as thick as they come,” she chuckled. “Good riddance, I say. You’ll do much better.”

“I always thought you and Ominis were cute together,” Poppy offered.

“You know, he asked me if there was a reason the two of us were spending so much time alone together,” you half laughed, half scoffed.

“You’re joking,” Imelda laughed. “When did he come to you with that idea?”

“Met us in Hogsmeade last week. He and I got into an argument and I haven’t spoken to him since,” you explained.

“How did I miss this?” Imelda asked, and looked to Poppy. “Did you know about this?”

“No! I didn’t even know she fancied Sebastian,” she said, “no one tells me anything, apparently! All these times we’ve talked about who I fancy and…”

“I don’t fancy Sebastian,” you sighed. “At least, not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You two would be cute together too!”

“I don’t want to ever talk to him again,” you said shortly as the door to the castle swung open. “I also don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“That’s right!” Imelda said brightly, “Outside of Quidditch, Sallow is nothing.” When you shot her a look, she shrugged. “He’s a good Beater, you have to admit. But outside of the pitch, won’t talk to him.”

“Am I still allowed to talk to him?” asked Poppy.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” you replied.

“Well, you aren’t and Imelda isn’t…” she trailed off, looking between the two of you.

“I’m just doing it because it’ll annoy him,” Imelda pointed out. “Sounds like fun, right?” You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up.

“Do whatever the two of you wish, but I am not getting involved. I’m going to the library,” you announced. “I have work to do that I ignored to come watch the game.”

“No fun!” Imelda called.

“What? It’s not like I can join the party anyway.”

“I’d sneak you in,” she offered. “What about you, Poppy?”

“No, I really should go check on…” she trailed off, pointing in the direction of the Beasts classroom.

“No fun, either of you.”

You laughed, waved your goodbyes and made your way upstairs. You were barely a few steps towards the library when a voice made you jump.

“You fancied Sebastian?”

You spun around to see Ominis nearby. Of course, he’d be in the castle. He probably wouldn’t have even gone down to the game, but leave it to him to be right there at exactly the wrong time.

“I…” you started, sighing heavily.

“That was why the two of you argued at The Three Broomsticks?” he guessed.

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not really, no. I mean…”

“You were annoyed about Violet McDowell and Sebastian leaving to go with her,” Ominous stated.

“How were you not?” you shot back, panicking slightly. He was right, of course, but something about Ominis knowing felt dangerous. You could trust Imelda not to say anything to Sebastian no matter how much she threatened to, but you couldn’t say the same of Ominis.

“Why didn’t you just tell him how you felt instead of arguing?”

“It’s not that easy, Ominis,” you sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Not with you, no offense. But not anyone else either. Can you just…please don’t say anything about it.”

Ominis shrugged, and you knew that was the closest to a commitment that you’d get. “Does that mean you spend time with me to see him?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Merlin’s beard, Ominis. I’m not desperate for his attention like Violet is. We’ve been friends for years.”

“You’ve been friends with Sebastian, and I’ve been friends with Sebastian,” Ominis countered. “I didn’t think we were friends without him until recently.”

“Well, we are,” you stated. “At least I thought we were.”

“So did I,” he said.

“Then there, we’re friends, Ominis. Regardless of whether or not Sebastian is around,” you told him.

“Isn’t this the type of thing friends talk about?”

“I don’t know! Not always. It’s not like you go around telling me who you fancy,” you pointed out. He chuckled.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, nodding.

“Now, can we please never speak about this again?” you pleaded. “I get enough from Imelda and Poppy just found out and now I know I’m never going to hear the end of it. I just want one friend who doesn’t care about my love life.”

“I promise, we won’t speak of your love life.”

“Thank you, Ominis. I really appreciate it,” you told him, breathing a sigh of relief.

When the two of you parted ways a little while later, you certainly felt better about the fact that Ominis knew. You still couldn’t say for certain if he’d tell Sebastian or not. Their friendship was much longer than yours, but you at least hoped he’d take your desire to leave it alone into consideration.

The rest of the night was dedicated to you trying to forget about the last few hours and actually trying to get your homework done. The number of people in the common room was keeping you more on task for once. If you looked busy enough, everyone would leave you alone, and you didn’t have to speak to anyone. A few people stopped to say hi, but the fact you weren’t willing to more than glance up to greet them kept you in a mostly solitary corner.

Just when the common room was starting to clear out, and you were just about finished with your Charms work, when Poppy came through the entrance. You looked up when she called your name, holding your quill over the parchment.

“There you are!” Poppy sighed, pointing towards the door. “Sebastian’s waiting out there for you.”

“Sebastian is waiting for me,” you repeated, letting the ink drip onto your essay.

“He is,” she confirmed. “He tried to follow me in. I had to promise to come get you.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him right now, Poppy,” you half-whined. You had already had enough uncomfortable conversations about your feelings for one day, and something told you Sebastian wasn’t there to rehash the Quidditch match. Just when you had just about convinced yourself that Ominis was going to keep your conversation between you, Sebastian was attempting to break into the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“He really wants to talk to you,” she said, shifting on her feet.

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing that Poppy wasn’t going to tell him to go away. “He made you promise to get me to come out, didn’t he?” Poppy nodded, and you rolled your eyes, dropping his quill down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said quietly, and you offered her a tired smile.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I’m annoyed with him, not you. Can you take my stuff upstairs? Just leave it on my bed. Please?”

“Sure,” she said, looking relieved that you weren’t upset with her.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you told her. You took a deep breath before heading for the door. You tried to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. Part of you wondered why Sebastian wanted to talk to you. Maybe make it perfectly clear that the only person he had feelings for was Violet or something.

When you stepped out into the hallway, it was to the sight of Sebastian pacing back and forth. He paused when you closed the door behind you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, running his hand through his hair before sighing heavily.

“Sebastian, what–” you started, crossing your arms.

“I don’t fancy Violet McDowell,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I don’t fancy her. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe that Ominis told you,” you sighed, rubbing your face. The squirming you felt in the pit of your stomach was back.

“You talked to Ominis about this?” Sebastian asked, giving you a surprised look.

“Didn’t you?” you responded, staring back at him.

“No,” he said slowly. “He wasn’t in the common room when we got back from the match. I thought he was with you until he came back.”

“Then Imelda told you I fancy you,” you guessed. There was no other way he could have found out.

“Imelda knew…what am I talking about, of course, you talk to Imelda about this kind of thing,” Sebastian chuckled, running his hand through his hair again. “No, Imelda didn’t tell me either.”

“Then who told you?” you asked, the squirming getting worse. Sebastian looked at you, a satisfied look and a crooked smile on his face.

“You did,” he replied. “Just now.”

“What?”

“You just said you fancied me,” Sebastian said, amusement written all over his face. “I wanted to be the one to say it first, but you couldn’t let me.”

“I…what?” you muttered, voice quiet. The words were hitting your ears, but they weren’t making sense to your brain. You stared at him for a long moment, mouth still slightly open as he still had the same look on his face as he watched you process what he had a few moments before.

“You don’t fancy Violet,” you said slowly.

“I don’t,” Sebastian confirmed, chuckling. “I fancy you and you fancy me.”

“You do?”

“Course I do,” he replied, faltering for a moment before pulling you into a hug. The last time the two of you had hugged was to say goodbye at the end of last year, and you hadn’t been much shorter than he was. Now, though, he could easily tuck you under his chin. You managed to uncross your arms and wrap them around him, and he pulled you in closer. As small as he had made you feel at The Three Broomsticks, you were even smaller actually in his arms and you had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian told you. “About the whole…” he trailed off, sighing. “Fight? That was a fight, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you chuckled, squeezing him before leaning back to look at him properly. “It was about something that didn’t actually happen.” You smiled up at him to show it was all water under the bridge and he smiled back, wider than ever. It wasn’t totally clear which of you made the first move, but then you were kissing and the feeling in your stomach was replaced with the butterflies that you’d felt for the last two years.

When the two of you broke apart, neither of you seemed particularly interested in letting go of each other. The thing that forced the two of you apart was the approaching footsteps of another Hufflepuff trying to get into the common room. Deciding you two needed somewhere more private, you took his hand and led him down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asked, squeezing your hand. However, he made no effort to let go of it, and instead just laced your fingers together.

“Undercroft,” you informed.

“Great idea,” he said. “Maybe we can talk about the match later.”

“If we have time,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “I think we’ll be a little busy. We have a month or two to catch up on, don’t you think?” He laughed, tugging you closer, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you walked.

“Definitely,” he agreed. The two of you were all smiles as you walked down the halls, and you were just glad the two of you were on the same page again. It was even better that the page you were on was one where you were the two of you were planning on spending significantly more alone time together from now on.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #f: hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy

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h0rnyshakespeare · 3 months ago

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Love’s Grave

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x gn!reader (Izuku has a crush on reader) , Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader (reader has a crush on Bakugou) hehehe love triangle~

Genre: angst

Word Count: idk mannnn it’s long

Warnings: Hanahaki disease

A/N: I realized I haven’t written a fic for Midoriya yet and I was like wHAT HOW DARE I- ahem anyway, onto the fic :)

“I have feelings for Katsuki.“

Midoriya’s heart shattered at your words. “W-what?”

You smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah. It felt weird to admit it out loud, but now I know for sure.”

Midoriya wanted to break down from the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling, but kept it together for your sake. “So, um, why’re you telling me?”

“You’re my best friend, Izu, I’ve known you and Katsuki since we were kids; I’m comfortable around you.”

Despite the emotion-wrecking news you had just told him, those few words slightly sped up his heartbeat. “They’re comfortable around me?”

He immediately hated that he’d thought that. Oh, how he hated how much he liked you. But as much as he tried to convince himself this, he knew he loved it. He loved hearing your voice, he could listen to you for ages on end without ever getting tired of your sound. He loved how your smile had his heart do somersaults in his chest. He loved how you were always so patient between him and Bakugou; how you managed to salvage the three of your’s friendship. He loved to fantasize about how you would feel in his arms, how his hands would feel locked with yours, how your lips would feel against his, melding perfectly together.

But as fun as it was, it all had to come to an end. You liked Bakugou, there was no getting around it. Midoriya wanted to punch himself; Bakugou had yet beaten him to something he wanted so badly. Someone he craved, someone he felt at home with. Somebody he loved.

Still, he managed a weak smile for you. “You should confess to him.”

“Oh, um, I was actually planning on waiting it out,” you said, biting your lip. “Someone like Katsuki would definitely only ever see me as a friend, I mean, he’s him and I’m me. Plus, he’s focused on his goals right now, and I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“I see,” Midoriya answered. Silence settled in the room, before Midoriya could not stand being in your dorm room anymore. “I have to go Y/N, it’s close to curfew. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Ok, good night Izu,” you smiled softly at him, shutting your door.

Midoriya ran back to his, crying himself to sleep that night.

The first petal appeared on a school morning. Midoriya was brushing his teeth, getting ready for the day when he started coughing, mildly at first but gradually becoming uncontrollable. He retched into the sink, coughing out a single, yellow petal in the midst of a few crimson droplets of blood. Midoriya’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no,” he muttered. He had heard of the disease before. Hanahaki. The curse of unrequited love. “As if love itself was not a curse already…” Midoriya almost wanted to laugh. He knew the disease was rare, so rare that a cure had yet to be found. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m going to die.”

He felt strangely calm about the whole ordeal. Midoriya decided on one thing: he’d never let you find out until the end. He knew you would blame yourself, holding yourself guilty for feelings you could not help. “It’s ok, Y/N,” he whispered, unsure of whether or not he was actually trying to calm himself down. “It’s ok.”

You had noticed something was off. Midoriya was never one to excel at hiding things, especially from people close to him. He had been acting rather odd lately. At first, it was little things such as locking his door (something Izuku never did usually) and taking bathroom breaks quite frequently during class. You had not questioned him, respecting his space; once he started subtly spending less time with you, however, was where you began to worry. Was it something I did?

You kept trying to find time to talk to him alone, but each time was diverted. You were confused, and decided to confront everything once and for all. You walked to his dorm and knocked on it lightly. “Izuku? Can we talk?”

You heard some movement behind the closed door, letting you know Midoriya was inside. “J-just a minute!” you heard him stutter, the door opening a few minutes later. “Oh, hey Y/N,” he said, looking nervous. “Hi, Izu, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you said, noting how Midoriya’s eyes refused to meet yours. “Oh, um, sure! Come in, what’s up?” he asked as the two of you walked into his dorm room. “‘Zuku, um,” you began; his heart melted yet again at the nicknames you called him. You exhaled slowly. “I hate confrontation but… are you avoiding me?”

Midoriya’s eyes widened. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but you’ve been acting kinda off lately… ‘specially around me. I didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, did I?” “No, no you didn’t, Y/ N!” Midoriya replied, arms waving in denial. “It’s just… we’ve been working a lot harder recently, I think I’m just tired.” “Idiot, remember to take care of yourself,” you reprimanded, hitting him lightly on the arm. He chuckled, before feeling another coughing fit coming in. “O-oh! I just remembered I had to give Todoroki his book back today. I need to go do that now, sorry Y/N.” “Okay, no worries! I’m glad I got to talk to you, Izu,” you smiled at him, heading back to your room. Midoriya waited until you were out of sight, then bolted towards the bathroom. He barely made it to the commode before coughing violently. The number of petals had only grown; Midoriya could feel the thorny stems scratching their way up his throat. The inside of the toilet was a mess of blood, bile and golden petals, which Midoriya had previously identified as marigold petals. Marigolds, which symbolized despaired love. Midoriya sighed, hugging the porcelain bowl. Why was this so painful? “It’ll be over soon,” he told himself.

It’ll be over soon.

Soon…

Midoriya woke up in a familiar room. He did not remember passing out, and if he was in the hospital bed he so frequently ended up in, that meant…

‘Someone found me passed out,’ he thought, his blood running cold. Shit. This was supposed to be secret. “Izuku?”

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse. He turned his head to see you. His heart constricted painfully at your expression. You looked so… despaired. “H-hey,” he smiled. Your eyes filled with tears. Before either of you knew it, your hand had slapped him across the cheek. He stared, mouth slightly agape. “When were you gonna tell me, idiot?” you yelled through your tears. He looked down at his hands quietly. “Who is it?” His head shot back up. “What?” “Who the hell is causing you so much pain?” you asked, firmly.

Midoriya sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” “Izuku-” “Just leave, Y/N,” he whispered. You shook your head stubbornly.

“Listen, I’ve talked with Recovery Girl, you have three options. One, you confess to this person and they realize their feelings for you, two, you go through the surgery… but you’ll lose your memories of them, and three, y-you die. Which I’m not allowing, by the way, so really you only have two options.” Midoriya laughed in spite of himself. “Confessing isn’t gonna work, Y/N… they’ve already told me they like someone else.” Your expression softened. “Hey, it- it wouldn’t hurt to try?” And for a split second, he considered it. Considered telling you. But he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I can’t, Y/N. You’d understand if you knew,” he smiled. You sighed. “Okay then… I guess surgery it is.” Midoriya’s eyes widen in panic. “W-wait, what?” “I told you, dummy. Either confess or surgery. Option 3 is not an option.” Midoriya panicked. Yes, he didn’t want to die but if he went through with the surgery… he’d forget you. All the memories he’d made with you since you both were five. And then you’d know. But the way you were looking at him, expression firm… god he loved you. And he didn’t want to hurt you. So he nodded. The sigh of relief you let out almost made it seem worth it. “I’ll go get Recovery Girl,” you muttered, standing from where you were sitting by the side of his bed. “Wait, now?” Midoriya asked, breaths quickening. Damn, he wasn’t ready. Not now, not ever.

You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Recovery Girl said that we need to take action quickly, Izu. You don’t have a lot of time left…”

Midoriya could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the ringing in his ears drowning out his words. He didn’t think it’d happen this fast. He wasn’t ready to let go.

“Y/N?”

You pause in your tracks. “Yeah?”

“What if… the memories are too important to say goodbye to?”

You looked at him, devastation written in his eyes, wishing you could do anything to remove the pain your best friend was going through.

“No memories are worth a life, Izu. And you’ll get to make new ones with this person, whoever they are. Although personally, anyone who’s making you go through so much doesn’t deserve to be in your life.”

Izuku smiled sadly at your words. If only you knew.

“Okay.”

Midoriya’s eyes fluttered open, wincing in pain as they adjusted to the bright hospital lighting.

“Look who finally decided to wake up from their beauty sleep,” a familiar voice drawled.

Midoriya turned to see Bakugou, his friend from childhood, and… a person he didn’t recognise.

“Kachchan, what’re you doing here? What… what am I doing here?”

“You had surgery, silly. The doctor will explain, she’s on her way,” the person smiled and said to him. He smiled politely and bowed his head in greeting. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

The smile dropped from their face immediately, replaced with shock. “I- what?”

Midoriya felt confused and weirdly guilty. Had he said something to upset them?

“I-I’m sorry-”

They didn’t reply, instead turning to Kachchan in a horrific realisation. “‘Tsuki…”

Kachchan’s face looked grim. Midoriya didn’t understand. Did Kachchan know them?

They coughed and attempted to recover themselves.

“Sorry, I was just a bit confused, I thought you were someone I once knew. I’m Y/N L/N.”

#mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha angst #hanahaki #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #midoriya x reader

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years ago

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Forever Valentine

Pairing: Rooster x Fiancée!Reader

Author’s Note: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything for the Bradshaws, huh? I had a weird anxiety about writing this one, which I think was due in part to the fact that I haven’t written for them since Christmas. But I’m happy with how this little story came out! It was written for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm challenge! The song that inspired it is Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Pre-wedding stress, a smidge of angst, and a whole lot of fluff.

You felt like you were going to cry.

You couldn’t remember ever feeling so stressed out about anything in your life, and that included the time you registered for that anthropology class in the spring semester of your senior year thinking it would be an easy three credits, only for it to end up being more work than all four years of college combined. At least your stress had made sense then—bioarchaeology wasn’t necessarily the most chipper of topics. But now? This was supposed to be the most exciting time of your life, and you felt like you were ruining all the joy by letting yourself get so worked up.

In a little over a week, you would be walking down the aisle to join your life forevermore to the man you loved more than anything in the world.

And yet, you were frantic.

Despite the fact that you and Bradley had been engaged for over a year, and that you’d been planning your wedding for nearly as long, it still felt like there wasn’t enough time to get everything done. The past month alone had felt like a whirlwind, an endless marathon where you kept running and pushing, and yet somehow never made it past the finish line.

Bradley had been amazing, as he always was. While he couldn’t really care less about wedding details—he would have been just as happy getting married in bathing suits at The Hard Deck as he was to get married in his dress whites at the church you’d booked last year—he never failed to offer his unending support and encouragement. He went with you on every venue tour, tasted every flavor of cake imaginable, let you drive him to the brink of insanity comparing floral arrangements, sat up with you all night making seating charts, left you encouraging notes when you went dress shopping, and held you tightly whenever the stress of it all became too much and you just needed to bawl your eyes out.

If you had ever doubted that Bradley Bradshaw was the man for you—which you hadn’t—his devotion and patience during the wedding planning process would have sealed the deal for you. You still weren’t sure how you had ever gotten so blessed, but at least now you’d have the rest of your life to thank your lucky stars for it.

At the moment, however, you weren’t exactly feeling blessed. Stressed was probably the more appropriate term.

In just a week and a day, you and Bradley would finally be saying “I do,” but it felt like there were a million things that needed to be done before that time. Penny and Phoenix had been an amazing help, and your mom would be here in a few days to help tie up some of the last minute details, but you’d always had a hard time delegating and ended up putting too much pressure on your own shoulders. Bradley affectionately scolded you about it all the time.

“Honey, why don’t you let Penny help you with this?” he’d asked one night, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he watched you fuss over the menu options for the reception. “You know she’d be happy to.”

“I know,” you’d nodded in response, brow furrowed in concentration. “But I don’t want to bother her.”

“Can I do anything?” he asked on other occasions, always looking a bit terrified by all the checklists and folders you had scattered around you at any given time.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you always rushed to reassure him. “I’ve got it.”

Still, he always stayed with you and made sure, in the midst of everything, that you were eating enough and drinking plenty of water. And that mattered so much more than anything else he could have done.

Your heart was pierced with guilt now as you sat in the living room of your apartment, making final confirmations with vendors and going over your checklists for the one hundred millionth time. Your fiancé was such a good man—the best man you had ever known. And he had been your rock through all of this. Not only were you concerned about the wedding and your honeymoon plans, but you and Bradley had also recently closed on the apartment where you were going to begin your lives together as husband and wife, and planning for that move was taking up a good chunk of space in your brain. Still, he had never once complained about how scatter-brained you’d been recently. On the contrary, he’d spent the past several weeks trying everything in his power to lift some of your self-imposed pressure off your shoulders. Bradley had done nothing but show his love for you at every turn.

And how did you repay all that love and kindness? You’d forgotten that today was Valentine’s Day.

Bradley had stayed over at your place the night before, as he often did, but you had been up so late, talking on the phone with your mom for hours, that you’d slept through both of his alarms this morning. Evidently he hadn’t wanted to disturb you, because you had no memory at all of him climbing out of bed and getting ready for work. When you did wake up a few hours later, however, you walked into the kitchen to find a yellow rose—your favorite—sitting beside the coffee pot, along with a little handwritten Post-it note stuck to the machine.

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey! I love you so much and I can’t wait to be your husband. Just 8 more days!

You felt like you’d been hit by a freight train. Despite all your careful planning and compulsive checklists, you’d somehow completely overlooked the fact that today was February 14th. You felt like the world’s worst fiancée.

In all fairness, you and Bradley had already talked about how you weren’t going to do anything big for Valentine’s Day this year.

“I know it’ll be a week before the wedding, and you’ve got so much going on, so we can keep it simple this year,” Bradley had murmured as the two of you had been lying in bed together. “We’ll just get to celebrate double next year,” he added with a grin, kissing your forehead.

“Sounds like a plan,” you had laughed in response, snuggling against his chest.

But this went beyond keeping it simple. You hadn’t even remembered. Bradley had been sweet enough to still find a way to make you feel special, and you hadn’t even woken up to give him a kiss goodbye this morning.

Hurrying back to your bedroom, you snatched up your phone and immediately opened your messages with Bradley.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby! I love you! ♥️

A few minutes later, you heard your phone buzz and glanced down to see your fiancé’s response.

See you tonight, honey 😘

Bradley didn’t even necessarily know you had forgotten, but you still felt horribly guilty all the same. That afternoon, in between making phone calls, you raced out to the store and picked up some of his favorites candies and treats. You also placed a take-out order for dinner from his favorite restaurant, knowing you wouldn’t have time to cook for him this year.

You loved him more than anything, and you wanted him to know that. As special as he always made you feel, you wanted him to be confident in the knowledge that he was just as special and precious to you.

Thankfully, you managed to arrive back to your apartment with dinner before Bradley returned from work. Having already set out the candy you’d bought for him on the kitchen table, you popped the food into the oven to keep it warm for when he was ready to eat.

Plopping back down on the couch, you only had a few minutes to review your venue contract before you heard the front door to your apartment opening, Bradley using the key you’d given him before the two of you had even gotten engaged.

“Honey?” he called out, his deep voice causing goosebumps to rise on your arms immediately. You could definitely get used to hearing that greeting every night for the rest of your life.

Dropping the contract and jumping up off the couch, you hurried to the entryway to greet him, flinging your arms around him and kissing him deeply. You could feel his mustache tickling your upper lip, which made you giggle against his mouth.

“Well hello,” Bradley grinned when you finally pulled back, his arms settling snugly around your waist. “That was quite a greeting after a long day of flight maneuvers,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours as he leaned in closer.

“I missed you,” you told him, cupping his face in your hands and brushing another kiss, softer this time, against his lips.

Bradley smiled into the kiss, squeezing your hip affectionately. “Mmm, I missed you, too. You looked so tired that I didn’t want to disturb you this morning, but I missed getting to give you a proper goodbye before I left,” he admitted, peppering your jawline with gentle pecks.

His words were full of tenderness, but you felt a stab of guilt once more. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around him more tightly and hugged him close.

Surprised, Bradley chuckled lightly and dropped a kiss on the top of your head. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby. I know you were up late.” His large fingers brushed up and down your spine comfortingly. “Hope you treated yourself to a nice, big cup of coffee this morning.”

You nodded, your face still pressed in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. “I did. Thank you for the rose and the note. It made my day,” you said softly, your lips ghosting across his shoulder.

“Of course,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. “I know we said we weren’t going to do anything too big, but I still wanted to do something for you for Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry it wasn’t much,” he apologized.

“Don’t say sorry,” you insisted, pulling back and looking up into his dark brown eyes. “It was perfect.”

“So are you,” Bradley grinned, kissing you gently.

Trying to push away the minor guilt that was still gnawing uncomfortably at you, you took his hand and led him into the kitchen. “I picked up dinner for you, if you’re hungry now,” you told him, thinking of the chicken pot pie that was resting in the oven. Bradley always said that it was the only pot pie he’d ever tasted at a restaurant that reminded him of his mom’s. “Chicken pot pie from Duncan’s.”

“Oh, wow, really? Thank you, honey!” he said excitedly, squeezing your hand as he stepped into the kitchen with you. “Damn, and all this, too?” he added, his eyes widening as they took in all the candy and snacks you’d laid out on the table. “You’re spoiling me tonight, baby. You definitely beat me at the Valentine’s Day game this year.”

You weren’t expecting it, but Bradley’s words suddenly had you bursting into tears, covering your face with your hands as you stood over by the oven.

Dropping the pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that he’d been holding, Bradley was by your side in an instant, wrapping you up in his arms and tucking your head underneath his chin. “Hey, hey, shh,” he murmured soothingly, rocking back and forth lightly. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s wrong?”

“I’m the worst fiancée ever!” you sobbed, hiccupping into his chest. “I don’t want you to think I’m so good! I totally forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” you confessed, sniffling loudly. “I only remembered when I saw your note this morning. So trust me, I most definitely did not beat you at the Valentine’s Day game.”

Bradley’s eyes widened as he listened to you ramble, one large hand moving up and down your back with firm strokes. Then, without warning, he started to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed, your face mottled with tears as you pulled back to glare up at him. “You do everything for me, and you’ve been so amazing, especially with all my wedding craziness, and I can’t even remember to buy you a piece of candy on Valentine’s Day? Some wife I’m going to make!” you cried irrationally.

Bradley sobered immediately at your outburst, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look up at him. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, waiting until you made direct eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have laughed. I know you’ve been under so much pressure lately,” he went on, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “Between the wedding and the new apartment and everything else that you have going on, who cares that you forgot Valentine’s Day? I certainly don’t!”

“But I do,” you sniffled, reaching up to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I love you. I love you so much. And I want you to know that,” you explained, your voice trembling with further unshed tears.

“I do know that,” Bradley replied gently, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand. “It would be kind of crazy of me to doubt it considering we’re getting married next week,” he added with a soft chuckle. “Baby, you forgot one Valentine’s Day. Considering everything else you’ve been juggling—and juggling perfectly, I might add—it’s pretty amazing what you’re able to do on a daily basis. It doesn’t bother me at all that this slipped your mind.”

Crumpling, you buried your face in his chest and started to cry all over again.

“I think I know what this is really about,” Bradley murmured, resting his cheek against the top of your head and holding you close. “You’ve been way too stressed out about the wedding lately. And that’s my fault. I’ve been too preoccupied with work, and letting you deal with too much on your own.”

“No, that’s not true. You’ve been—”

Bradley silenced your interruption with a kiss, stroking your hair tenderly. “Our wedding is supposed to be a happy day, baby. The happiest day of our lives. I know it’s going to be for me because it’s the day I get to call you mine forever. And I want it to be for you, too. I want you to get to enjoy all the hard work you’ve been putting into making this such a special day for everyone. It should be a special day for you above everyone else.”

“It will be,” you promised, offering him a watery smile. “Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

He smiled, dropping another soft kiss on your lips. “No more stress, honey. No more worrying. No more planning. No more checklists. No more trying to do everything by yourself. I’m here for you. And I want to help you. It is our wedding, after all,” he told you with a teasing grin.

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding your head slowly. “You’re right,” you agreed softly.

“And no more beating yourself up about forgetting Valentine’s Day either,” Bradley insisted, resting his hands on your shoulders and shooting you a pointed look. “We’re going to have so many Valentine’s Days together, baby. If we remembered every single one, we’d run out of things to do. Trust me, I’m more than satisfied knowing that you’re my forever Valentine,” he smiled, curling his finger under your chin and lifting your face so that your eyes met.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” you pouted playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Bradley threw back his head and laughed at that, beaming. “You know, my mom used to say that she would ask my dad that same exact question. Usually, it was when he was managing to get out of trouble. Guess it’s just a Bradshaw quality.”

“Oh, well, thank goodness I’m marrying into such a good family then,” you giggled, leaning up to kiss him sweetly.

“You’re going to be the perfect addition to the Bradshaw clan,” Bradley smiled, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You sighed softly, contentedly, as you snuggled up against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much,” you whispered.

“I love you right back. More than words could ever say,” Bradley responded, turning his head so that his lips could brush against your forehead.

The two of you stood like that for a while, perfectly content to remain wrapped in each other’s arms as the tension of a long day seeped out of your bones. There was no place that felt safer than one another’s embrace.

You finally pulled back, giggling, when you heard Bradley’s stomach rumble.

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Guess I’m hungrier than I realized.”

“Let me get dinner on the table for you,” you told him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you go freshen up?”

He nodded, dropping a quick succession of kisses on your mouth before stepping out of the kitchen.

Smiling, you cleared the kitchen table of all the candy you’d purchased, setting out plates and utensils before moving over to the oven to take out the food you’d ordered. Before you could place the food on the table, however, you suddenly heard music begin blaring from the speakers in the living room. You recognized those familiar strains.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At that moment, Bradley reappeared in the entryway to the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s this? A little mood music for dinner?” you laughed, resting a hand on your hip.

Stepping towards you, Bradley held out his hand with an infectious smile. “Dance with me,” he said, waiting patiently.

You didn’t hesitate as you slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you close to his chest as he spun you around the kitchen to the musical stylings of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

“I love you, baby,” he sang against your ear, his voice melding with the music so perfectly that you were tempted to tease him about becoming the Fifth Season. But instead, you closed your eyes and let his soothing voice drift over you, washing away all the stress and anxiety that had been building up inside you these past few weeks.

You couldn’t wait to marry this man, this man who danced with you in the kitchen even when you had forgotten Valentine’s Day, and who spent every moment of every day reminding you how loved and cherished you were.

The day you became Mrs. Bradshaw would be the happiest day of your life. And it would have nothing to do with the floral arrangements or the wedding venue or the flavor of the cake. Instead, it would have everything to do with the man who was waiting for you at the end of the aisle. The man who wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you, the same way you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off him.

“I love you, Bradley Bradshaw,” you told him, beaming up at him as the song slowly started to come to an end.

“I love you, too, honey,” he smiled, kissing you deeply. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#love is in the air tgm #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x future wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 10 months ago

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a/n: my @wyattjohnston winter fic exchange fic for @senditcolton (whose writing i am OBSSESSED with - praise you like i should made me see the light on matty t) 🥰 i’ve never written for tyler seguin and my only familiarity with him was him showing his own headshot to get into the arena which immediately made me love him lol. i had fun writing this one and i hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 12.1k

tw: drinking , fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, hangovers, mild cursing

summary: new year’s eve in las vegas gets out of hand when you meet tyler, a gorgeous stranger in the club

After your divorce papers are signed, sealed, and delivered - on Christmas day no less, leave it to your jackass ex to find the only lawyer in the entire Fort Worth area willing to work on a national fucking holiday - your best friends appear at your front door with suitcases, bottles of champagne, and round trip tickets to Las Vegas, leaving on the 27th.

“No,” you tell them flatly, arms crossed over your flannel shirt, hair in a three-day old knot on top of your head. “I’m not in the mood to go anywhere, much less Vegas.”

You hadn’t even taken your parents up on the offer to pay for a plane ticket back home to New York for the holidays. It was too much to face them after your marriage had imploded and getting the third degree from your relatives wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do. Spending the holidays alone had seemed like a better option, even if the day had been a little lonely. But a spiked hot chocolate and a string of Christmas movie classics had kept you from getting too depressed.

“Honey,” Nora says, in her Christmas sweat set, the cartoon Grinch blazoned across the front giving you a nasty smirk, a patient smile on her face, “now is exactly the time to get away. You just shed a hundred seventy five pounds of jackass, you need a distraction.”

She muscles past you and nearly drags her rolling suitcase’s wheels over your bare toes. You pull your foot back and lean against the wall as Katie and Nic follow her inside, a makeshift parade to celebrate your divorce. Nic at least has the decency to shoot you an apologetic look as she passes, whispering, “I tried to get her to settle for a little trip to a spa, you know, manis, pedis, massage. But you know Nora…”

“Never Takes No for an Answer Nora,” you finish when Nic trails off, smiling a little despite yourself. Nic gives you a little smile and bumps your hip with hers.

“Seriously though,” she says as you close the door behind her, “if you really don’t want to go, Nor will understand.”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, I…it’s probably good for me to get out of town,” you admit reluctantly. It’s been a depressing few months, full of anger and tears and tense phone calls and curt emails. You’re tired of being sad, of being angry, but mostly you’re tired of being in the same city as your asshole ex-husband. Even though you moved out of the house you shared and into an apartment, the entire city holds reminders of your relationship. Now that the divorce is official, you’re starting to wonder if staying in Fort Worth is the right move. Your friends and your job are here, but the risk of running into Jason is astronomically high and maybe a change of scenery would be good. You rub at your forehead - that’s a problem for the new year.

The girls leave their suitcases in a pile in your front hall. Two pairs of Nikes and a pair of Ugg platforms join the suitcases and you’re pulled into a pile on your couch - the college tradition for a broken relationship. Back then it had been cheap wine coolers and binge watching The Bachelor. Now, Nora hands you a bottle of champagne, cheers when you pop the cork, and drops her head to your shoulder after you take a huge gulp. You drape your legs over Katie’s lap and rest your cheek on the top of Nora’s head. It’s not the way you thought you’d be spending the holidays, but you’re so grateful for your friends.

“In about an hour, we’re going to start helping you pack,” Nora says, taking the second bottle of champagne from Nic and swigging from it. “But right now, it’s time to tell us every single negative thought you’ve had about Jackass Jason and didn’t want to say before.“

“Have to cleanse the energy,” Nic says, “by putting all his negative traits into the air and I’ll light some sage.”

“Sage?” You lift an eyebrow, warm and cozy in the cocoon of your friends.

Nic digs into her giant purse and pulls out a wad of sage, tied up with white string. She beams. “Sage! It’s very cleansing.”

Katie cackles a laugh. She kicks Nic’s thigh lightly and grins, “never change those hippie ways, Nicky.”

“Pass me a lighter,” Nic holds out her free hand and wiggles her fingers. Nora drops a well used plastic Bic onto her palm and you lean in to cup your hands under the sage bundle. The last thing you want is ashy smudges on your couch.

It takes two tries, but eventually Nic manages to get the lighter to catch and she holds the flame to the top of the bundle. It immediately starts to smell of the burning herb and smoke rises to the ceiling when she blows out the small fire. You cough a little, the scent of sage stinging your nose. Nic rolls off the couch and begins to wave the stick around, explaining what she’s doing as she goes.

“So, we’re getting rid of all of Jason’s negative energy and karma,” she waves the stick and you wince when a little clump of ashes falls to the carpet and then sigh when Nic’s bare foot grinds them further into the fibers.

“Jason never lived here,” you point out reasonably, the bottle of champagne lighter in your hand as you take another drink. Your chest already feels lighter and less knotted with grief and anxiety.

Nic looks at you like you’re an idiot and you feel strangely chastened, taking another swig from the bottle. “Honey, his negative energy and toxicity was absorbed by you and all the stuff you took from the house. We have to just, like, get his energy out of here.” She cocks her head at you, squints, asks, “would you consider cutting your hair? Hair holds onto a lot of trauma.”

“No!” You yelp, hand flying up to clutch at the knotted mess on top of your head. “I thought you were the ones to talk me out of breakup bangs when he first left? Now I’m supposed to cut my hair?”

“Just a suggestion,” she says, even as the other two chime in from the couch to encourage a change in your hairstyle. Nora mentions a bob and you resist the urge to kick her.

With a roll of your eyes, you say firmly, “I’m not cutting my hair. Let’s move on from this.”

Nic nods and finishes sageing the apartment, leaving a faint haze of smoke in the air and you’re honestly very grateful when she puts the bundle in a ziploc bag and stashes it back in her purse. “Okay,” she beams, dusting off her hands, “bad energy officially cleansed. We can move onto the fun part!” She drinks from the bottle that you’ve mostly emptied on your own and before you can ask what the fun part is, you’re being pushed into your bedroom and the girls are rummaging in your closet for your suitcase.

They work in coordination, while you’re sitting stupid in the middle of your bed, to throw your skimpiest clothes into the opened suitcase. You watch as a colourful array of fabric is tossed from your drawers and wonder what, exactly, they have planned for the trip.

“This one, for sure,” Katie’s voice is muffled from deep in your closet. Her hand appears, the mirrored minidress you bought and wore for the Eras Tour swinging from its hanger. The mirrors sparkle under the hi-hats in your room and throw discs of light onto your bedroom walls.

“What are we doing in Vegas?” You ask finally, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I mean, I love that dress, but can’t this just be a chill trip? Like what if we just got tickets to see Adele? And I can cry to her music?”

“Absolutely not,” Nora shakes her head and Katie shakes the dress at you again. “We’re going to get you to forget about the jackass and the divorce one way or another. Whether it’s drinks or dick, that’s your choice, but you deserve to let loose after taking care of him all these years.”

“Besides,” Katie pipes up, “how good do you think we are that we could get last minute Adele tickets? That shit was sold out months ago!”

Tears prickle at your eyes, your nose burning a little. Divorced at 27 isn’t exactly how you pictured your life going after meeting Jason in college, getting married at 22, and supporting him all throughout his time in law school, but you’re beyond grateful for your girls.

“No dick,” you murmur, a shaky smile on your face. “I’m not ready for that, but drinks I can do.”

The trio cheers and starts tossing more clothes into your suitcase.

——

The next day is spent nursing your mild hangover and repacking the drunken mess you’d all made of your suitcase the night before. Once you’re packed to your satisfaction - mirrored mini dress and platform heels included - you run out for a quick wax before meeting the girls for a manicure.

“I meant to say it last night,” you say watching your crusty old gel polish disappear into dust, “but let me know what I owe you, for the flight and hotel and everything. I’ll Venmo you.”

Nora waves you off, apologising quickly to the manicurist when she complains as Nora’s hand is ripped away. “Don’t even worry about that. I used miles for the flights and -“

“The guy I’ve been seeing?” Nic cuts in. “The hedge fund guy, Mark, he’s treating for the hotel suite.”

Katie’s eyebrows shoot up along with yours. Clearly she didn’t know about the hotel connect. “Whoa,” she grins, “Nicky with the high roller! Hold onto him with two hands.”

Nic blushes. “He’s really sweet too.” She continues talking about him for a few minutes until she stops herself and looks at you with wide eyes and an apologetic expression. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Here I am rambling on and you’re going through -“

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” You cut her off. “I’m okay! I want to hear about the guys you’re dating. Just because I’m single again doesn’t mean I want death to love for everyone.” You snort a laugh that sounds a little forced even to your own ears. The girls share a look that you hate, but continue talking about the dates they’ve been on and the mediocre sex they’ve been having. Truthfully, you tune them out a little bit, cranky about the divorce, about the trip that was sprung on you, and embarrassingly enough, jealous that they’re having sex at all.

Even before Jason started the divorce proceedings six months ago, it had been nearly eight months before that the last time you had sex. You should’ve realized he was seeing someone else on the side because there was no way he had gone that long without sex. And yet. You’d been caught off guard by the cliched texts found in his phone, the lacy thong found in his car, and the divorce petition delivered to you while he was “working late.” Thinking back on it, you feel supremely stupid.

Now that the paperwork is signed and you’re officially, legally single again, you’re just glad you didn’t have kids or anything really significant to fight over. It’s almost a blessing that the process wasn’t as drawn out as it could’ve been.

You make a conscious effort to push all thoughts of Jason from your mind and try to be in the moment, a task made easier once you’re in the air en route to Vegas and then actually in the city itself. It’s both like the movies and not, colorful and loud and a little sketchy. But you immediately make twenty bucks on a slot machine in the airport, so you figure that’s a good omen for the trip.

The first four days of the trip pass in a blur - all you can eat buffets, drinking, dancing, spas, too little sleep, and too much gambling. You’re up nearly three hundred dollars after being down almost a thousand the day before, so that’s cause to celebrate with drinks. Not that you really need an excuse - you’ve had more alcohol in the last four days than in the last four months. You’re exhausted, but you’ve also laughed more than you have in a year and your face hurts from smiling. The entire city has a numbing effect on your lingering emotions and you feel yourself starting to rediscover who you were before the Jason of it all.

“Time for the mirrorball dress!” Nora singsongs, dancing around the suite in her plush robe. It’s New Year’s Eve and the city feels even sparklier than usual. The streets have been packed with people and the casinos are at capacity - apparently there’s a hockey game tonight too, so the sports bettors are having a field day. You’ve been going to different hotel bars and clubs the past few nights, but tonight is the big night out before you fly back to Texas tomorrow night.

The entire Strip is shut down to traffic for the night and you’re planning on going to TAO for dinner and dancing since it’s inside the Venitian, where you’re staying. It’s a major splurge, but fuck it, you’re about to get alimony from your corporate lawyer ex-husband. You still have Jason’s credit card, so you’re fully planning on putting dinner on his tab, before he realizes that the card is in your possession. For all the little details Jason remembers, he’s surprisingly bad about his finances.

For now though, you dig your hand into the pillowcase that had been full of the little shot sized bottles of alcohol four days ago and is now mostly empty. You groan when you pull out a little bottle of Pink Whitney, the pink lemonade vodka is your least favorite drink. You knock back the shot while the girls cheer you on, all three of them already in various states of tipsy. It honestly feels like you haven’t been completely sober since you left Texas.

Nic blasts a classic 2000s playlist while you’re getting ready and you dance around the huge suite, feeling light and floaty.

It’s complete chaos out on the Strip, even though it’s barely after 7. You could’ve gotten to the restaurant directly through the hotel, but you decide to walk outside for a bit to see what’s happening. It’s chillier than you expected, so by the time you get to the restaurant, you’re more than ready for a drink and dinner. You fill up on sushi and expensive drinks, gossiping about people you knew in college, spilling some more of the more extreme details of Jason’s cheating when you’re finished with your third TAO-tini.

“FUCK HIM!” Katie shouts in the middle of the restaurant, drawing attention to your table. You giggle and shush her drunkenly, waving a hand to get her to lower her voice. “No,” she shakes her head, only marginally quieter, “you really are so much better than that douche. When we get downstairs, we’re finding a man and you’re fucking him!”

Nic giggles and leans a little sideways in her seat, “new dick to cleanse Jackass Jason from your vagina!”

You flush with embarrassment as more people look over, but thank god the waiter comes by with the check. You toss Jason’s platinum AmEx onto the little dish and grin wickedly as you tell the girls, “dinner was on Jason.” They cheer and Nora laughs, “I should’ve ordered another drink!”

Once the bill is paid, with a generous 30% tip added, you traipse downstairs into the club part of the restaurant. The lights are low and the music is loud, plenty of people already drunkenly dancing just three hours before midnight. Nic and Nora join the fray immediately while you and Katie detour off to the bathroom quickly where you fix up your makeup and fluff up your hair, inspecting your face in the mirror. You look tired, but there’s a spark in your eyes that you hadn’t noticed was missing in the last year of your relationship with Jason.

“I’m serious,” Katie says, her solemn tone betrayed by the slight slur to her ‘s’. “Pick a guy in here and I will make sure you fuck him. You deserve a little fun.”

“I have been having fun,” you assure her, your reflection grinning at hers. The alcohol is making your brain pleasantly fuzzy, thoughts drifting away as easily as they come. “I don’t need a man right now,” you continue. “Even for the night. I just want to dance.”

“Okay!” Katie chirps, grabbing your hand and pulling you back out into the club. “Let’s dance!”

And you do. You find Nic and Nora and for a handful of songs, the four of you are jumping and screaming and having a blast.

Sweaty and thirsty, you break off from the girls and wobble towards the bar, weaving in between the throngs of people. The line for the bar is two or three people deep, so you settle in for a wait, looking around the room and people watching. The crowd seems pretty typical for New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, but your gaze lands on a group of men and your heart skips a beat.

There’s at least four of them huddled together, maybe five, and you know you’re drunk, but you didn’t think you were drunk enough to be seeing double. You blink and they come into sharper focus - not seeing double, just two incredibly handsome, dark haired and bearded men. Another dark haired man with no beard and a curly haired blond man. They’re all in slacks and white button downs in various states of unbuttoned, like they came from the office or something. They don’t look out of place in the club though, with drinks in their hands and the way they’re grouped together.

They’re laughing and shoving at each other, like overgrown frat boys, and you can’t look away. You’re captivated by the way they hold themselves, clearly confident in their bodies. Even in the dark of the club, you can see the faint outlines of ink through the white fabric of one of the guys’ shirts.

You’re still staring like a creep when the tattooed guy turns and looks directly at you, making and holding eye contact. A little gasp slips from your lips and your stomach flips, the familiar and nearly forgotten feeling of arousal sparking to life in your stomach. His friends shove at his arms, laughing. You blink and look away, feeling shaky and not from the alcohol. A faint flutter between your legs has you pressing your thighs together. “This is stupid,” you mutter to yourself. Ten seconds of eye contact shouldn’t have had you reacting like this. Yes, it had been a while since you last had sex, but jeez.

You rub your fingers over the bridge of your nose and nearly jump out of your skin when a deep, unfamiliar voice says, “what are you drinking?” right in your ear.

“Oh!” You turn, stumbling just enough that a hand shoots out and grips your elbow to steady you. A warm, broad hand. Attached to a tanned, tattooed forearm. Attached to a broad chest barely covered by an obscenely unbuttoned white shirt - tattoos and chest hair exposed and making your body react. Attached to the dark haired man you had made eye contact with. You blink up into warm brown eyes and ignore the way your stomach clenches up. His thumb brushes against the inside of your elbow and your skin feels like it’s on fire.

His mouth, full lower lip and thinner upper lip surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, quirks up at the corner. “In case I wasn’t clear,” he says and you can hear the laughter in his tone, “can I buy you a drink?”

A faint smile touches your own lips and you nod. “Double vodka cranberry,” you say, voice a little raspy from screaming along to the music.

Mystery Man nods, smiling, “good choice. Come with me?” Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand down your forearm and laces his fingers with yours to pull you behind him while he uses his broad shoulders to muscle past the crowd around the bar. When you reach the bar, he does a quick maneuver, dragging you in front of him so you’re sandwiched between the bar and his chest, heat pouring off his body. He leans forward a bit, pressing against you, and catches the bartender’s attention. Your entire body feels too warm, the thin fabric of your thong growing damp from the solid mass of his chest against your back.

“Double vodka cranberry for the lady,” he orders. “And double scotch on the rocks for me.”

His forearms come to rest on the bar top, trapping you in the circle of his arms. The alcohol is lowering your inhibitions and your intrusive thoughts win out and you arch your back a little, pressing your ass into his crotch, turning your head to look back at him. He wears a shit eating grin on his face.

“I don’t usually let strangers buy me drinks,” you say, heart pounding in your chest. He doesn’t feel like a threat, doesn’t feel like someone you should be afraid of. You lean a little closer to him, something crackling in the air between your bodies.

Something flitters across his expression, but you’re just this side of drunk and can’t manage to identify it before it’s gone. “Tyler,” he introduces himself, trailing a finger over your arm and up to your shoulder where he plays with the thin silver strap holding your dress in place. “Not a stranger now.” Goosebumps lift on your arms as his fingertip twists in the skimpy strap. His gaze is searing, flickering from your eyes to your lips to the hint of cleavage exposed by the draping of your dress. Your nipples tighten under the fabric, pinching almost painfully.

You offer up your own name in return, taking the drink directly from the bartender when he returns. You sip at it and it tastes stronger than a double or maybe that’s just Tyler’s proximity that’s clouding your senses.

He takes a sip of his own drink and leads you away from the bar, giving you another opportunity to watch his back muscles move under his shirt as he works his way through the crowd. A gym rat, you think, with the way he’s all lean muscle and quiet strength. He’s muscled, but not disgustingly so.

“What are you doing in Vegas?” He asks, when you’re alone again, just off to the side of the bar. You can see the girls out of the corner of your eye, staring at you with matching ‘you go, girl!’ expressions on their faces. You giggle a little.

“Celebrating,” you reply vaguely, taking a sip of your drink and fluttering your lashes. You’re flirting, you realize. You haven’t flirted with anyone since Jason. The bubbly feeling in your chest expands and you smile up at him.

“Huh,” he laughs warmly, “what do you know, me too. And the only thing my night was missing is a pretty girl.”

Alcohol fuels your confidence, along with the hungry way Tyler’s gaze takes in your body, and you reply, “good thing you found me then.”

Your gaze lingers on the notch of his collarbone, the dusting of hair over his chest, the dark lines of his tattoos. Your cunt gives an enthusiastic throb and you swallow heavily.

Tyler leans in a little and you catch a whiff of spicy cologne mixed with the scotch on his breath. This isn’t his first drink of the night either. “Would your friends mind if I monopolized your time tonight?”

Biting your lip, you look over at the girls. Katie is moving her hand near her mouth in the universal sign for blowjob and Nic is giving you the biggest, most encouraging puppy dog eyes. Nora flashes you a double thumbs up, spilling some of her drink in the process. A laugh huffs through your nose and you look back up at Tyler, “no, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Good,” his smile is adorable, his hand lands on your waist, and you completely forget why you told Katie you weren’t interested in a hook up tonight. “Want to dance?”

You’re not quite sure how it happened - one minute you were dancing with Tyler, one of his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hips gyrated against his pelvis, the hard bulge of his cock obvious every time you moved and the next minute you found yourself pressed up against a wall in the VIP section of TAO, with Tyler’s tongue deep down your throat and his hand sliding up the side of your thigh, fingertips playing at the hem of your dress. Your hands are fisted around the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close as you can while you moan into his mouth and cant your hips towards his, spreading your legs a little to encourage his hand’s exploration.

His fingertips make contact with the soaked fabric of your thong and you whimper, knees going weak. Tyler’s lips turn up in a smile against yours and he uses more pressure, finding your clit easily through the fabric until you have to pull back and gasp for air, your head thrown back while you pant.

“Jesus, baby,” he mutters, kissing a trail down your jaw and over your throat. “You’re fucking soaked.” He sucks gently at your pulse point, your heart hammering in your chest.

He slips his fingers under the fabric, rough pads of his fingers catching against your slick folds. “Oh my god,” you mutter, grinding against his fingers. “More, please, Tyler.”

He obeys, thumb catching on your clit and middle finger teasing at your entrance before sliding inside easily. A whine catches in your throat and it feels so good, too good. Between the alcohol and the lust and the months long celibacy, you’re at the edge of an orgasm in less than a minute, dripping around Tyler’s fingers before you can even process that you’ve come. White spots dance in your vision and it could be the strobe lights or the searing pleasure from having your clit rolled between Tyler’s thick fingers.

“Good girl,” he grins against your neck, beard and teeth scraping against your skin. Your face already feels rubbed raw with beard burn, but you don’t want him to stop. “Think you can do it again?”

Truthfully you think that you’re so worked up and horny you could come just from Tyler looking at you, but you nod and squeak out a yes.

Tyler bites a mark against your collarbone and drops to his knees, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and forcing them apart. He looks up at you from between your legs, dark eyes even darker with lust and a wicked grin on his face, “hold on, baby, gonna make you see fireworks for the New Year.”

You laugh at the corny line, choking off into a prolonged moan when he buries his face between your legs and presses his tongue flat against your cunt, the wet heat of his tongue pressing your damp thong into your sensitive clit.

You’re beyond thankful for the darkness of the VIP area and the loud music because you can’t contain the noises that Tyler’s drawing from your mouth. You tangle one hand in his hair - fuck, it’s so soft - and hold his face up against your cunt. The other hand reaches blindly for the magnum bottle of champagne you’d been sharing. Technically it’s the second bottle and it’s more than half gone when you tip it up to your mouth for a drink.

“I - ah! I don’t usually doooooh my god, right there - this,” you gasp, writhing over Tyler’s face. His nose is pressed against your clit and his tongue is flat against you, licking with purpose. You grind against his face, making sure the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.

“What,” he pulls back with a wicked grin that only grows when you whine and try to push him back in place with your grip on his hair, “get your pussy licked?”

The bottom half of his face is glistening in the strobe lights and you feel the blush rise on your chest knowing that your body did that to him.

“Um, yes,” you admit quietly, “and the whole, uh, stranger in a club thing too.”

His smile turns a little soft, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Happy to be your first then,” he kisses the inside of your thigh and lifts your leg so it’s draped over his shoulder and you’re spread even wider for him. You’re impossibly exposed to him and all it does is make you wetter. Tyler tilts his head back a little and opens his mouth, you instinctively pour some champagne into his mouth, the both of you laughing when it splatters onto his face and shirt, making the white fabric nearly see-through. He wipes a little at his face, fingers scraping at his beard, and he shrugs. “Was gonna get all wet and messy anyway.”

He holds his champagne covered fingers up to your face and you lick at his skin, sucking his fingertips into your mouth and letting them rest on your tongue for a moment before he pushes them a little further past your lips, until saliva is dripping down his palm.

Tyler’s head is back between your legs, a strong hang gripping at your thigh, his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucks at the swollen bud and your leg kicks out, the heel of your platform smacking against his back with an audible thunking noise. He grunts into you and you moan an apology, his fingers falling out of your mouth so you can take another gulp of champagne. The bubbles fizz on your tongue and burn going down.

He buries his wet fingers into your cunt, curling and pumping, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Not that anyone would hear you with how loud the music is in the club. You grind your hips against Tyler’s face and feel him smile, the coarse hair on his face scratching against your inner thighs when you subconsciously try to close your legs around his ears.

“Gonna kill me,” he pulls back and mutters, nipping at the junction of your thigh. You jolt when his hands squeeze at your asscheeks, the scrape of the sequins on your dress adding more overwhelming sensation. He adjusts your thigh over his shoulder, his other hand trailing down your leg and wrapping around your ankle. He pulls back a little and you whine at the loss of sensation. “I like these,” he says, his fingers tapping against the sparkle of your platforms. “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.”

You laugh, about to deny that this is going any further than the club, when his mouth is back on your cunt, tongue stiff and warm as he licks at your clit. All thoughts are gone from your head, aware only of the pleasure Tyler’s giving you. His hands are all over your body, fidgeting from your thighs to your ass and back again, calloused fingertips ghosting over your skin and making you shiver.

You close your eyes against the pleasure building in your body, tears pooling at your waterline. How the fuck did you go this long in life without realizing that you’ve never had a satisfying orgasm? And some random, gorgeous man in a club in Vegas is the one to satisfy you over and over? It’s a shame this is a one night thing.

—-

Sunlight streams in through the windows and you screw your eyes shut tighter, nausea rolling your stomach even though you haven’t moved. It’s like an ice pick is stabbed into your temple, the throbbing somewhere deep in your brain a harsh reminder that you’re not 21 and immune to hangovers anymore.

You press your lips together and lift your hand to rub at your temple, trying to keep your movements as slow as possible so you don’t vomit. Something hard and sharp knocks against your brow bone and you crack one eye open to see what the hell it could possibly be since you don’t remember putting any jewelry on last night. A huge twinkly diamond ring stares back at you from your finger.

The ring finger.

The left ring finger.

…fuck

Your eyes fly open and you ignore the wave of nausea and shooting headache to look around the hotel room. The unfamiliar hotel room. The sheets slide down your chest, exposing you to cold air and making you shiver. Your nipples pebble from the cold and you look down, eyes widening at the little bruises and bite marks scattered over your chest and stomach. You’re naked under the sheets save for a pair of black boxer-briefs looped around one thigh, like you tried to put them on last night and got tired halfway. The fabric is soft and worn and they’re absolutely not your underwear.

“Fuck!” You yelp, gaze landing on Tyler’s prone form in the bed next to you. He’s flat on his back, one arm thrown over his face, the other out to his side with his fingers curled in your direction. “Oh my god!”

His chest is bare, tattoos a stark contrast against the white sheets and his tan skin. He’s got purpling bruises on his chest and stomach too, marks that you must’ve left on him. Marks that make a trail from his collarbone over his pecs, down his stomach, barely hidden by the sheet that rides low over his lap.

If you’re half wearing his briefs, he’s definitely completely naked from the waist down too. Before you can comprehend the thought, you wonder if you left marks lower on his body too.

Your head is moving around like it’s on a swivel, taking in all the details of the room that you’re pretty sure is Tyler’s. There’s a black suitcase in the corner and your dress is a shiny pile on the floor. Your thong tossed over the lampshade on the bedside table. You can’t find your shoes, until you notice them at the foot of the giant bed, left in a haphazard pile and you remember, faintly, Tyler’s words from last night - “When I fuck you later, I want you to keep these on.” They look like they were discarded in a rush, one ankle strap not even fully pulled from its buckle. His clothes are everywhere, tossed in a trail from the door that speaks to how fast you were trying to get him naked.

The hangover is clouding your brain, making it feel like your head is stuffed with cotton, and you haven’t even begun to consider what the ring on your finger means. Maybe it was just a joke? It had to have been a joke.

Tyler shifts, grunting a little in his sleep, and reaches his hand out in your direction like he’s trying to find your body. His movement startles you.

“Ah, fuck!” You yelp, scrambling out of the bed, legs all tangled in the sheets. The briefs slip down your leg and tangle around your ankle. You kick your leg wildly, the black fabric going sailing across the room with the force of your kick. Frantically, you yank at one of the blankets crumpled at the foot of the bed and wrap it around yourself like a toga. Your hands shake a little.

Tyler stirs and blinks sleepily, stretching his arms over his head, giving you a show with how the black ink of his tattoos move. His gaze is unfocused when his eyes finally open, landing on your blanket-wrapped form. A slow smile graces his lips and he rasps, “hey, morning.” There’s a smudge of your dark lipstick on his cheek, partially hidden by his beard. A bruise is sucked into the underside of his bearded jaw and you notice, for the first time, the ragged red nail marks on his shoulders and biceps. He looks like he was attacked by a feral animal - and it’s a jolt to the system when you realize that feral animal had to have been you.

You can’t even find words, mouth gaping open and shut at him like a fish. Now that you’re standing, you finally stop for a second to take stock of your own body. Sticky between the thighs, sore like you’ve never been sore before - in a pleasant, well taken care of way. Your inner thighs feel raw and you know that when you look later, you’re going to find beard burn on the sensitive skin. You can already feel it on your chin and cheeks.

“What is this?” You hold your left hand out to him, the gaudy ring - because now that you’ve gotten a better look at it, it’s not a real diamond, thank god. It’s cubic zirconia or something cloudier than a real diamond and it’s a huge oval, spanning the entirety of your knuckle - glinting in the early morning sunlight.

Tyler squints at you, rolling onto his side before sitting up, either unaware or unconcerned that he’s completely naked and the sheet pools low enough in his lap that you can see the trail of dark hair leading down to his dick and the hair at the very base of him. You try to keep your eyes from looking, but he reaches a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck, making his bicep pop and the sheet move around and you’re only a woman, you can’t help yourself from looking. Your clit throbs between your legs, clearly remembering what happened last night even if most of it after getting eaten out in TAO is a little fuzzy to your brain.

“It’s a ring,” he replies simply, looking like his brain is trying to come back on-line too. He shifts his hand and his eyebrows lift. “Oh, shit. I’ve got one too.”

Your gaze lands on the band on his left ring finger. It’s yellow gold, or something cheap that looks like yellow gold, and you hate that your immediate thought is that it looks good on him. The band contrasts nicely with his skin and he spins it with his thumb, your eyes tracking the rotation.

A little chuckle slips past his lips and you blink at him. He takes in your expression and laughs outright. “Come on, you can’t possibly think we what? Got married last night?” His laugh is warm and too familiar for someone you’ve known less than twelve hours. “That’s a Vegas cliché if I’ve ever heard one.”

You shake your head. “Right, no. Yeah, I’m just being stupid. It’s just—“ you hesitate, glancing around the room again, avoiding looking at him, noticing the - oh god - four condom wrappers discarded on the floor. No wonder you’re so sore. The tenting of the sheet in his lap isn’t doing much to hide his morning wood, the shape of him obvious even with the quick little glances you’ve been sneaking. Four times. It’s a minor miracle that you’re not walking bowlegged.

Tyler stretches again and looks around for something - his clothes, his phone, who knows - while clearly not caring that the sheet is covering next to nothing. “Hey, do you see my phone?” He asks, drawing your attention back to his face. “Just wanna check the time.”

He’s remarkably chill and you’re starting to feel a little crazy for overreacting so much to silly rings bought in a drunken haze. There’s a phone on one of the little decorative tables in the corner of the room and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his, but when you pad across the room to get it, you step on a piece of paper, crumpling it under your heel. Leaning down to pick it up, you fall back on your ass in shock when your eyes land on the words at the top.

Clark County Marriage License

“You okay?” Tyler asks, sounding concerned.

“No,” you manage to squeak out the word around the block in your throat. There in black and white - your name and Tyler’s. Tyler Paul Seguin, apparently, if the document is to be believed. You feel your stomach lurch when you see the date on the license. Last night, New Year’s Eve.

How drunk had you been?

Who the hell had let you get married?

You’re so caught up in the implications of the piece of paper you’re holding that you don’t realize Tyler’s out of bed and squatting next to you, wearing his briefs, thank god.

“Whatcha got - oh,” he cuts himself off, reading the words over your shoulder. “Oh. Shit. Wow.”

He sits down on the floor next to you and you look over at him, eyes wide. “We actually got fucking married in Las Vegas,” you breathe, chest tightening in panic.

“I mean, maybe we didn’t?” He says hopefully. “That’s just a license, doesn’t mean we actually did it.” He taps his fingers absently over one well-muscled thigh, an irregular beat that you somehow sync your breathing to. With a huge effort, you drag your gaze away from his fingers - long and thick and the last you remember, stuffed up your cunt and dragging an orgasm out of your body - and steady your breathing. One hand presses against your chest, fingers digging into your skin like you could reach in and squeeze your heart back into a normal rhythm.

The phone on the tabletop starts buzzing and Tyler reaches up to grab it - “mine,” he says, glancing at the screen and jabs his finger to silence the alarm. He reaches his hand back up on the table and comes back with a handful of Polaroids. He splays them out like a deck of cards and you look at them. “Huh.”

Each picture is blurry as hell, but they’re unmistakably wedding photos. You’ve got a little fluffy veil on. Tyler’s shirt is unbuttoned past is sternum, but tucked neatly into his pants. He’s got you dipped back at the waist, kissing you dramatically. You’re on his back, holding a bouquet of flowers in the air as you kiss his cheek. He’s holding you, chest to chest, one large hand splayed over your bare back, your hand slid underneath his shirt. The Little White Wedding Chapel sign behind you and Tyler in one photo makes what happened last night unavoidable.

“I think we got married,” Tyler states the obvious and you burst into hysterical, gasping laughter. He looks at you, concerned for a beat before starting to laugh himself. It’s not funny at all, but if you don’t laugh, you think you’ll cry.

Once you catch your breath, you hiccup a little noise that sounds like a sob and carefully put the license up on the table. Tyler watches you and then glances back down at his phone, wincing at the time. “So, uh, hate to get married and run, but I have to go,” he taps his phone screen. “I’m on a flight to San Jose in an hour and I really can’t afford to miss that.”

You catch a glimpse of his lock screen and it’s a picture of him cuddling three dogs, which makes you feel marginally better because at least it’s not a woman that he’s cheating on and any man that has his dogs as his phone screen can’t be a total sociopath. A little bit of the knot in your chest unravels.

“San Jose,” you repeat, finally catching onto what he said. “Is that where you live?” You ask the question realizing you know nothing about this man that you’ve married. You didn’t even know his last name until five minutes ago. Oh god. You’re going to have to manage a time difference while filing for divorce. Your thoughts spiral out. Can you even get divorced in a state that’s not Nevada? You should know this, you’re probably the divorce expert in the room. He isn’t giving off divorced man energy, but do you give off divorced woman energy? You hadn’t thought about that and now it’s all you can focus on.

Tyler laughs a little, drawing your attention and stopping your panic attack. “No, thank god. I’m, uh, not to sound conceited,” he says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but you really didn’t recognize me?”

“Should I?” You frown, studying his face. Maybe he looks familiar? But in that way that most dark haired white men look alike. You’re almost positive that you’ve never seen him before.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “This is awkward. But I play for the Dallas Stars, the hockey team? We played Vegas last night, San Jose tomorrow.”

You cock your head at him, this new information sinking in. Dallas. Just thirty minutes from your place in Fort Worth. You’ve obviously heard of the Stars, you don’t live under a rock, but you’ve never been to a game, never cared about sports enough to learn any of the players’ names. It would be a weird thing to lie about, but - “prove it.”

“Prove it?” Tyler repeats incredulously. You nod. He frowns and looks like he’s trying to make a decision. After a second, he huffs a little laugh to himself and mutters, “well, it already worked once,” before unlocking his phone and typing away on the screen. A second later he holds it up next to his face, a Google search open on the screen. A headshot - Tyler’s headshot in a green jersey - looks back at you. He grins wryly, “proof enough?” The search bar at the bottom of the screen shows that he typed in ‘tyler seguin dallas stars headshot’ and misspelled his own name as ‘tylor’ - you don’t know why, but it makes you bite your lip to smother a laugh. The little typo is endearing.

You look back and forth between the screen and Tyler, long enough that he starts to genuinely laugh. “C’mon,” he teases, putting his phone down on his thigh, “you’re a tougher sell than security at the arena.”

“Okay,” you offer him a tiny smile, “I believe you. I’m just, um, a little overwhelmed. I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever done it before either,” he replies, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m going to be on the road for a bit, west coast swing, but if you put your number in my phone, I’ll have my lawyer start working on the paperwork.”

“Paperwork?”

He coughs a little awkwardly. “The divorce? Or annulment? Divorce though right? ‘Cause we obviously slept together,” he gestures at the condom wrappers, “so we can’t just sweep it under the rug. Like Ross and Rachel in Friends.”

“No!” The word slips out before you can stop it and Tyler frowns.

“We can annul it? My knowledge of ending Vegas weddings is pretty minimal.” He pauses and then as if to reassure you, says, “my knowledge of ending marriages in general is pretty limited too.”

“No,” you chew at your lip, “it’s still a divorce. But, fuck, this is mortifying. A second fucking divorce before I’m even 28. Good fucking job with your life.” You mutter the last bit more to yourself than to Tyler, tears welling up in your eyes. That would be the last thing you need, to tell your family and friends about this whole debacle. Literally a week after your first divorce is finalized, you go out and get married again. Drunkenly. In Las Vegas!

Tyler’s eyebrow lifts and he doesn’t ask the question he so clearly wants to ask. You scrub a hand over your face, nausea returning but you’re not sure if it’s the hangover this time or the way he’s looking at you.

“What if,” he says slowly, studying you carefully for a reaction, “what if, we just…didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” You shift, the floor uncomfortable under your sore ass. The blanket wrapped around your body isn’t the softest and you’re starting to sweat a little despite the cold air pumping into the room. Tyler’s presence next to you is becoming distracting, the movement of his chest muscles, the rasp of his voice. Your body wants more of him.

“Didn’t get divorced…” he tilts his head at you, keeps looking you in the eye, even after your jaw drops and the blanket slips a little. “We could, I don’t know, just -“

“Stay married?” You finish for him, eyebrows up in your hairline. He nods, shrugs - why not? “Oh my god.”

Tyler’s phone vibrates on his thigh and he glances down at the alarm. It reminds you that you have no idea where your own phone is and you really, really need to talk to the girls. He jabs at the alarm again and looks apologetic. “I really do have to go,” he gets to his feet and holds out a hand to pull you up. A spark shoots up your arm when his fingers clasp around yours. He doesn’t let go right away, his thumb rubbing against the backs of your fingers. “Think about it,” he looks at you more softly than you think he really should be in this moment. “You said you don’t do this kind of thing,” he continues, “but new year, new you?” The tiny smile he gives you sends your heartbeat into overdrive and this cannot be good for your health.

“Drunk married in Vegas would be a really new me,” you reply faintly. His hand finally falls away from yours and you’re mildly concerned to realize that you miss his touch. Your fingers flex at your side.

His smile doesn’t waver and he reaches out to brush a piece of hair off your cheek, fingertips lingering on your skin. “I’ll be back in Dallas in two weeks. Think about it, I’ll take you to dinner and we can just…go from there.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing. Strangely enough, you do feel calmer than you had a few moments ago, Tyler’s steady calm rubbing off on you.

“Okay,” you nod, repeating yourself. “Okay. I’ll…two weeks.”

Tyler grins a little wickedly. “At least we know we’re good together in bed,” he teases, kicking at a condom wrapper with his bare foot.

A laugh startles out of your chest and you find yourself nodding in agreement. “I, ah, definitely agree with that,” you murmur, your entire face flaming with heat.

——

One Year Later - New Year’s Eve. Dallas. TX

Tyler greets you at the door, suited up and bouquet of flowers in hand. “Hi, Mrs. Seguin,” he grins at you.

“Mr. Seguin,” you laugh back, leaning in to loop your arms around his neck and kiss him soundly, nipping at his lower lip. When you pull back, you’re breathless. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

His hands roam up and down your back, catching in the fabric of your sparkly white minidress, sliding up under the hem to knead at the flesh of your ass. He grins wickedly when his hands don’t find any fabric covering your ass. You smirk at him and wink, giggling when he pinches a cheek.

You lean into his touch with a contented purr. If it wouldn’t make you late for your own party, you’d pull him inside the house for a quickie. You’d already had sex this morning - a wedding present, according to Tyler when he’d given you back to back, mind numbing orgasms with his tongue and dick before you’d returned the favor with a blowjob that had rendered him speechless for twenty minutes - but you would never get enough of being in Tyler’s arms.

“Does it count as bad luck if none of the guests know they’re coming to a wedding?” He asks, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Or a vow renewal, technically.”

The last twelve months have been a little insane and honestly, looking back, you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

After getting dressed quickly, Tyler had found your phone wedged in the cushions of the hotel room’s armchair. The battery was nearly drained but your screen was lit up with more than a hundred texts in the group chat with the girls and nearly as many missed calls. When you had finally called back, all three had shrieked that they were twenty minutes away from reporting you missing. You’d kept the little surprise of legally binding matrimony to yourself, but had admitted to the girls that you’d spent the night with Tyler and that he lived in Dallas and that you were going to see where it went. The flight home was full of whispered shrieking and more questions than you had honestly had answers for at the time. The gaudy engagement ring was buried in the bottom of your toiletry case, acting like the tell-tale heart, blood rushing in your head every time you thought about it.

When you got home, you’d shoved the ring in your jewelry box, determined not to think about it, but found yourself absently running the pad of your thumb over the underside of your ring finger when you let your mind wander to Tyler.

After Tyler had returned to Dallas from his two week road trip - during which you’d basically internet stalked him and spiralled out quietly about not filling for a divorce right away - you’d finally decided to give it, give Tyler a chance. He’d texted nearly every day he was gone, sending stupid jokes or a picture of something he thought would amuse you. Worst case scenario, you filed for divorce and went through the process all over again. By the time Tyler took you out for dinner at a quiet dive-y taco place in Fort Worth where you could actually hear each other, both of your memories of the wedding night had returned, although yours were coloured in a hazy film that made the whole thing seem like a fever dream.

The little ceremony had been officiated by an Elvis impersonator, another Vegas cliché, a fact that you’d learned when Tyler had found another Polaroid in his wallet when he was on the plane to San Jose. You’d cracked up when he finally showed it to you in person - Elvis in the middle, clearly past his prime, with you and Tyler on either side of him doing your best air guitar? Maybe?

“I think I’m trying to do an Elvis hip swivel,” Tyler had laughed.

“Whatever it is, it looks like we’re both mid-seizure,” you’d nearly snorted your drink out of your nose. Looking at the photographs was fun now, a little warmth building in the pit of your stomach, not the tight, nauseous coil of anxiety that you’d experienced when you had first seen them.

Other wedding details were still a little hazy, like where you had picked up the rings or what exactly the ceremony had consisted of, beyond being declared man and wife and being told to kiss and cement your “burning love.”

(What you remembered and what Tyler made sure you didn’t forget was just how good you were in bed together. The four condom wrappers on the floor were not an anomaly with Tyler.)

He’d gotten you tickets for games, right up against the glass so he could skate by you during warmups and tap his glove against the glass to capture your attention. After a few games, once you’d decided to really commit to the relationship and were official within your friendship circles, he picked up the habit of blowing you a kiss, grinning when you’d blush.

He’s really good at his job and you’re only a little surprised to find that you actually love watching him play. It’s horrific watching him get hit or tossed into the boards, but when he scores a goal and celebrates in a big hug with his teammates you’re always the first one on your feet, screaming your head off.

You’d brought the girls to a game early on in your relationship and all three of them had been surprised at how comfortable you were in the arena and how quickly you’d picked up the rules of the game. It was hard to explain that you weren’t just trying to make a regular relationship work, but a whole marriage. The stakes were just a little bit higher than usual.

The league had a break for the All-Star Weekend in early February and Tyler had surprised you with a trip to Mexico, where you’d soaked up the sun and gotten to know each other better, giving him all the sordid details about your divorce and sharing stories from your childhoods over icy margaritas and more tacos than your body knew what to do with. He’d told you about his early career, his misbehavior in Boston and how much he loved being in Dallas. The long weekend was slow and lazy, leaving so much time for the two of you to really talk and get to know each other. The experimental sex in a hammock on the beach was the icing on the cake.

After that, it was like a switch flipped and all you wanted to do was be with him. Truthfully, you sometimes forgot that you were thrown into the relationship with a marriage and settled comfortably into dating Tyler, folding each other into your lives, moving in with him, telling him you love him and hearing him say it back, cheering him on when Dallas made it all the way to the Western Conference Finals before being bounced in seven games by, of all teams, the Vegas Golden Knights.

Summer break meant a road trip to Whitby to meet Tyler’s family. A drive that should’ve been two or three days took nearly a week because you kept making random stops to see the silliest monuments advertised on the highways. You’d nearly killed him driving through Illinois, convinced this was the end of the relationship and you’d have to pull the trigger on the divorce, and then he had surprised you by stopping at a corn maze and getting lost in it with you almost immediately. Your stomach had hurt from laughing with him and making out like teenagers.

The trip to his hometown had been beyond fun, getting Tyler to show you his childhood haunts and seeing all the baby pictures of him with his mom telling you stories too.

On the drive back to Dallas, halfway through Oklahoma and in the middle of the night, while you’re pulled over on the side of the road to look at the stars, Tyler asked you to marry him. Again.

This time you had the moment committed to memory, the way Tyler’s hands had been shaking slightly with the black velvet box popped open in his fingers. The way Tyler’s speech rambled, like he hadn’t prepared anything or had forgotten his words just as he started talking, explaining how your relationship had started in an unconventional manner, but he couldn’t picture his life without you now. The way you’d started crying almost the second he had turned to you on the hood of the car with that gorgeous ring glinting at you in the moonlight and how you hadn’t stopped until he’d slid the ring home on your finger and kissed you like he’d never kissed you before.

Over the months, the wedding plan shifts and changes, from a summer wedding so you can have a real ceremony and party, the whole nine yards, to what it actually ends up becoming - a quiet inside joke with the two of you in order to keep your anniversary date, a New Year’s Eve party for your closest family and friends to be surprised at midnight when you and Tyler recite your vows.

It’s much easier to plan a party in six months than it would’ve been to plan a wedding.

Jamie Benn, Tyler’s best friend and the dark haired man in Vegas you had initially thought was just you seeing double, is tapped as the officiant, getting ordained online and getting really into his role, not knowing it’s basically all just a front. He just loves that he’s the only one in on the secret, constantly wearing a shit eating grin any time any of your other friends discuss wedding plans for a summer wedding that’s not going to happen.

“I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces,” you admit, hooking your hand in the crook of Tyler’s elbow and letting him lead you out to the car. He does a double take when he notices your hand.

“What’s that?” He taps on the ring nestled on your ring finger. Your original wedding ring from a year ago had been replaced with a real diamond, still an oval, but smaller and more tasteful. But that’s not what you’re wearing right now.

Your lips twist up in a sly smile. The huge, gaudy cubic zirconia is back on your finger, your second engagement ring tucked safely in its box in your drawer. “It didn’t feel right to get married without it,” you admit, flexing your fingers against his arm so the fake gem will sparkle.

Tyler’s laugh is contagious. “Everyone’s going to ask about it,” he warns you.

“Let them,” you shrug. “I want to wear my original ring on my anniversary.”

Hours later, when the surprise has been pulled off and Jamie announces that Tyler may kiss his bride, you fall into your husband’s arms, kissing him with all that you’ve got.

Fireworks go off outside the venue, the countdown to midnight at less than a minute.

“Happy anniversary, wife,” Tyler grins against your lips, quiet enough that only you can hear him.

Around you, the countdown continues, seconds ticking away until it’s January first.

“Happy New Year, husband,” you whisper back, laughing when he dips you back dramatically.

The party continues well into the early hours of January first, you and Tyler having had the foresight to rent out the venue for twice as long as a normal party. You spend the night flitting between dancing with your friends and cuddling up against Tyler’s side, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your cheek is pressed against Tyler’s side, the wrinkled fabric of his button down soft under your skin. Your fingers play with the buttons, slipping them from their holes one by one until his shirt is more unbuttoned than not.

Tyler smirks down at you, his hand rubbing an arc over your hip, rucking up the fabric with each upward stroke of his hand, exposing your thigh inch my inch. “Undressing me already, wife? Can’t wait for the wedding night?” He winks at you and you laugh into his chest.

“I think that ship has sailed,” you murmur, sliding your hand under the unbuttoned shirt and over the smooth skin of his stomach, ridged muscles dancing under your touch. You yawn a little, the weird combination of overtired and wide awake making your brain buzz.

Tyler holds you close and leans down a little to whisper in your ear, “want your anniversary gift?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “I thought I already got my gift this morning?”

“That was a wedding gift,” Tyler teases. “This is an anniversary gift, and no, it’s not in my pants.”

You giggle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “Shame, I like what’s in your pants.”

“I’ll give you that later,” he promises, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, I stashed it in the coat closet.”

He tangles his fingers with yours and leads you off, getting stopped every few feet by someone else who wants to gush about what a great surprise the party was. “Just couldn’t wait another minute to marry her,” Tyler grins in response every time, making you laugh at his side, the inside secret of your Vegas marriage a warm fizz in your chest.

When you finally escape off to the coat closet, you try to loop your arms around Tyler’s neck and lift up on your toes to kiss him. He obliges you happily, cupping the back of your head and giving you a searing kiss before pulling away. You whine, “I thought we were sneaking off for a wedding night quickie?”

“I literally told you that your gift wasn’t in my pants,” Tyler laughs, kissing your cheek. “Why would you think I wasn’t being serious?”

Your hands find their way underneath his shirt again, fingertips digging into the muscles of his back, and drawing yourself closer to him. “Because I wanted you to be kidding,” you reply. “A little coat closet quickie would be a fun way to start the year.”

“And normally, I’d agree, baby. But I think you’re gonna like this gift,” he leans forward and reaches behind you, giving you the opportunity to press your nose against his collarbone. When he pulls back, he has a fairly large, flat wrapped package in his hand.

“What’s that?” You ask, taking the gift from Tyler as he leans back a little, shoulders resting against the wall, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The package is lighter than you thought it would be.

He nudges your foot with his, “open it.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” you chew at your lower lip. Neither of you had really discussed the fact that it’s your anniversary or gift giving and now you’re a little embarrassed that you hadn’t thought about it. You sway a little on your feet, fingers ripping a little at the corners of the paper until it crumples under your touch and the corner of the gift pokes through.

Tyler shakes his head. “Don’t care. It’s kind of something for both of us anyway,” he says and you wait for the little joke, the tease that you can let him unwrap you later, but it never comes and that’s how you know your husband is about to make you cry with whatever this gift is.

You can feel Tyler watching you as you pull back the paper - leftover Christmas wrapping that’s so clearly been wrapped by a man, too much tape and messy folds. God, you love him - and expose a frame. It takes you a second to process what’s behind the glass, but when you do, you hiccup a little gasp and tears well at your lash line.

Behind the glass is your marriage license with last year’s date and your pair of wobbly signatures. The Polaroids you’d taken that night surround the license and you trace trembling fingertips over the image of you kissing Tyler on the cheek.

“Tyler…” your voice cracks on his name and he gives you a soft little smile.

“This year his been batshit insane, baby,” he leans into your personal space and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “But I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married.”

Tears are sliding down your cheeks and you nod, “I’m really glad you’re the one I drunk Vegas married, too.”

His laugh is muffled by all the coats surrounding you, but it’s warm and it feels like home. He pulls you into a hug, the frame smushed between your bodies and digging into your stomach, but you don’t care. Tyler’s hand curls around the back of your neck and you wipe at your eyes with the back of your wrist, black mascara smudges streaking across your skin. You giggle a little wetly, “I’m such a mess, oh my god.”

“Everyone will just think you dragged me off so you could have your wicked way with me,” Tyler teases, smirking at you.

“Coat closet quickie for the newlyweds,” you reply, grinning. You settle the frame on the floor, the back of it leaning against your leg, and really wrap your arms around Tyler’s neck, pressing a kiss against the hollow of his throat. The spice of his cologne invades your nostrils and you press your nose harder against his throat, enveloped in his warmth.

Tyler rests his chin on the top of your head and hums, rolling his hips against yours lazily so you can feel the bulge behind his fly. “I could give you a real quick one, just to make sure you don’t have to lie,” he ducks his head to whisper in your ear, kissing at the hinge of your jaw. His hand slides down to graze your ass and you’re nearly ready to say yes, suddenly desperate for him, when a loud bang on the door has you jumping back, heart pounding from the shock, nearly cracking Tyler’s chin with your head. The frame bounces off your leg with your movement, falling to the floor with a little clatter that you hope isn’t broken glass.

“Fuck!” He yelps and you clap your hands over your heart, gasping. “Jesus, who is it?”

Jamie’s voice is choked with laughter as it comes through the door. There’s a slight slur to his words too, as he shouts, “stop fucking on everyone’s coats, we’re doing body shots.”

Your jaw drops open and Tyler rolls his eyes at the interruption. He bangs on the door with a hand and shouts back, “fuck off! I’m trying to spend some time with my wife.”

“Actually,” you say slowly, a little smirk forming on your face, “body shots could be fun…”

“Yeah?” Tyler lifts an eyebrow at you, palm flat on the door.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a wicked grin, “you know I like the way champagne tastes on your skin.”

Tyler’s eyes shut like he’s in pain and your gaze slides down to see the bulge in his pants grow. “You’re a fucking menace and I’m so fucking glad you’re my wife,” he mutters, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you out of the coat closet, nearly knocking Jamie over in his hurry, your shrieked giggles drowned out by the music from the party.

The next morning, afternoon really by the time you finally open your eyes, you wake up with half of your body draped over Tyler’s completely naked one. His hip and thigh is securely wedged between your legs, his morning wood hot against the outside of your thigh. One of your arms is in the sleeve of Tyler’s button down, the rest of the fabric draped over your back like a blanket. The hangover pounds at your temples and the sunlight blinds you and it’s such a deja vu moment you almost think you’re back in Vegas, right until the moment Tyler’s hand twitches against your lower back and he rubs his bearded chin against the top of your head. You melt against him, sighing happily.

“Anniversary party slash vow renewal every New Year’s Eve?” Tyler rasps against your hair, sliding his hand up your spine.

You hum into his skin, “as long as you get me electrolytes and a greasy breakfast on January first, I’m in.”

“How about a headache relieving orgasm first?” Tyler rolls you gently onto your back, already kissing a path down your body. You shiver with each brush of his lips and your legs fall open for him to slot himself between them. He rests his chin on your hip bone and looks up at you with a soft look in his eyes that doesn’t match the hungry smirk that curves his lips.

“What?” You ask, angling your neck to look at him, raking a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was. There’s a little streak of glitter against his temple and you brush your thumb over it, wiping the smudge away.

He shakes his head a little. “Just thinking about this past year,” he lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “How fun it’s been, how glad I am that we did the surprise last night.”

“Getting soft on me, Seguin?” you tease, poking at his side with your foot. He wiggles away a little from your touch, ticklish even though he won’t admit it.

“You know I’m anything but soft for you,” he laughs, nipping at your skin. “Let me prove it.” He presses a kiss against your hip bone and then lower and then there’s no more thoughts, just you and Tyler and the rest of forever stretching out in front of you.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin x reader #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #tyler seguin x you #nhl fic

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skyshroom · 10 months ago

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My one and only OFMD ramblings post (hater moment)

I wish I could feel sad about OFMD getting cancelled and I suppose in some ways I do feel bad (fuck HBO for slashing their budget and runtime despite the crazy success of S1) but in my PERSONAL OPINION the second season did not leave me wanting more I was truly appalled at how much time out of their limited runtime was dedicated to pure fan service 😭 I love fan service but not at the cost of watering down the characters as much as they did

Jim my beloved I miss when you had like, motivations and weren’t just paired off to be in a relationship with a brand new character and forgotten about. Izzy I miss when they weren’t throwing you into an #angst fanfiction that felt like it was written by a depressed 15 y/o I miss when you were in a GOOD #angst fanfiction…Stede I wish I understood why you randomly went from being haunted by the men you’ve killed to just setting a man on fire in the street and never really acknowledging it… Edward was all over the place too their miniature breakup ‘arc’ if you could even call it that, was so underbaked me and Daniel were HOLLERING at how quickly that flew by..

the season just felt like crack fanfic for the most part and while it was beautiful in some areas it was still lacking the absolute magic they captured in s1, I know they had budget and time constraints but it’s not all that…S1 left me feeling like I had been punched in the gut (pos) and S2 just left me feeling confused and unsatisfied.. like a year ago if you told me OFMD was never going to get a season three I would have been gutted but instead I’ve been mourning this show since the day the last episode aired 😔

Rest in peace to OFMD 🪦 HBO fucked something that could have been truly beautiful and everyone in the writers room had ao3 open on their computer while they were pitching ideas… maybe someone will swoop in and salvage it

#this is not a post praising the show so if people being haters about it makes u upset do not read it #I don’t want to argue these are all my personal opinions and there was a LOT I loved about the season too so be reasonable #ofmd critical #ofmd #our flag means death #rip ofmd

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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Hey! I love what I’ve read so far! Can we get a kiss prompt #23 with Hangman x Reader? 🫶🏼

Hi Jordan! Thanks for liking all of the kisses I've posted so far! Here's Kiss #23 - in relief with Hangman and Reader!

Relieve Me Of My Burdens With A Kiss

It’s always nerve-wracking to see your babies hurt or sick and know you’re not able to do more than you’re already doing. It hurts even more to see your husband go through the same pain you are. It had started off as a fever for poor little Everly, but as a mom of three, you thought you knew exactly how to handle fevers. After all, Arabella had fevers as a baby and so did James. But this fever wouldn’t drop despite every technique you applied. You’d been near tears when you’d called Jake on the phone and told him you were loading the kids into the car to take your baby girl to the hospital.

“I’ll meet you there, Sweets,” was all he said before hanging up. Thankfully the hospital ER was mostly empty, but you weren’t expecting to hear that she’d have to be admitted to the ICU. By the time Jake blasts through the doors at the end of the hallway, hair mussed and khakis creased, you’re already working yourself into a panic attack. Arabella and James are on one of the waiting room sofas, James with headphones in his ears and Arabella reading a book. But you’re at wits end. The worry, the ever-present worry and panic that resides in your diaphragm and has ever since you gave birth to Ari is roiling. You’ve been cataloging everything you did and running your actions over and over again in your mind.

Jake takes one look at you, tugs you out of the older kids’ earshot, and wraps you in his arms.

“It’ll be alright, sweetheart. The doctors will help our Evie girl.” His voice is a rumble in his chest as you sob with your head over his heart.

“B-but what if it’s something I did? I-I can’t lose her, Jake. She’s only four months old. She’s our baby.” Jake’s lips are gentle against your brow as he kisses your head.

“Nothing is going to happen to our baby, sweets. She’ll be back to our giggling, bouncy mischievous baby girl in no time.” You sniffle even as you nod, stepping away to take Jake’s hand in your own.

His wedding band is smooth against your palm, the metal shiny and worn after years of wearing it every day. You fixate on the feeling of Jake’s hand in yours and focus on hoping that Evie will be alright.

“Captain and Mrs. Seresin?” The doctor’s voice brings your worry back to the forefront of your mind.

“How’s Everly doing, Doctor?” Your voice is tremulous as Jake wraps an arm around your waist.

“You’ve got one strong little girl, Mrs. Seresin.She’s just got a regular run of the mill viral bug, probably something she caught from her siblings. Some fluids here in the hospital tonight and a round of the medicines we prescribe and she will be back to herself in no time at all.”

Your sigh of relief goes unheard as Jake finishes speaking to the Doctor and leads you into the hospital room. Evie’s so tiny in the crib, her rambunctious fists and feet still. Your fingers are light as you brush her honey blond tresses off her forehead and kiss her little brow.

“You’ll be alright, baby girl. Mama and Daddy are right here waiting for you to wake up, okay, darling? We’re right here.” Jake’s voice is hushed and gentle and rough like he’s holding back tears.

You curl your hand around his collar and kiss him, pouring all of your love and relief into the kiss.

“She’s going to be alright, Jake. Our baby girl’s going to be perfectly healthy soon.” He blinks back tears before kissing you again soft and slow, ignoring Arabella’s tween sounds of disgust at her parents kissing.

Want to request a Kiss and a pair for me to write? Guidelines are here.

Want to see other Kisses I’ve written? Here’s the full Masterlist.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 9 months ago

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Follow Your Aro

The aromantic follow up to Perfectly Normal

Word count: 871

Rating: gen

Pairings: platonic Dukeceit, platonic or pre-qpr Intrumoxiety, background Roloceit and Moxiety

Warnings: self discovery

In honor of Aro Week (next week, Feb 18-24) I’ve written a companion to my projecting ace on Remus 💚💚🤍🩶🖤 ♠️

~~~START~~~

“JANUS!” Remus yelled as he threw open the door to his and Janus’s shared dorm room.

“Hello Remus,” Janus said without looking up from the assignment on his desk. “I’m sure the other people in our building are really appreciating your volume, thank you.”

“Any time, Snakey!” Remus grinned, throwing himself onto his roommate’s bed despite being three feet away. “Hey, I have a question.”

“I would love to help you at this exact moment, Rem, I definitely don’t have to finish this assignment before my date with Roman and Logan tonight.”

“Perfect! What are romantic feelings?”

Janus set his pencil down and turned to face Remus with an arched eyebrow. “They’re the feelings you have for a romantic partner? Are you okay?”

“Noooo,” Remus whined, sitting up and pouting. “I know what they are! I mean, like, how do you know you’re feeling them?”

“Oh…” Janus blushed. “It’s like, when you’re alone, and all you can think about is them. Or when you’re having a bad day, but when you see them, you think ‘oh, there they are’. They’re just… it’s so nice to be around them.”

“But that just sounds like friendship!” Remus huffed, flopping back onto Janus’s bed and glaring at the ceiling. “How do you know it’s different than friendship?”

“I don’t want to kiss my friends,” Janus deadpanned. “No offense.”

“Ew, none taken,” Remus stuck his tongue out at the thought of kissing Janus. “But I don’t want to kiss anyone.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Rem.”

“Eh, I’ll probably figure it out when it becomes important,” Remus shrugged.

“Sure,” Janus agreed distractedly, focusing once more on his assignment.

~•~•~

It hits Remus like a wrecking ball two years later.

He placed his game controller down on his desk, shut his console off, and walked away. He didn’t save the game, but it was okay, he wasn’t ever going to play it again.

Downstairs, he found Patton sitting on the couch in front of a DVD menu screen, so he threw himself onto the couch and buried his face in Patton’s lap.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” Patton asked, only mildly shocked from the intrusion after having been friends with Remus for nine years.

Remus just let out a long, loud groan.

“That’s okay,” Patton said, rubbing his hand along Remus’s back comfortingly.

“You’re in my spot,” Virgil complained, coming back from the kitchen with what smelled like a bowl of popcorn. Remus didn’t move.

“That’s okay, honey,” Patton said. “There’s plenty of room over here.”

The couch dipped as Virgil sat down on Patton's other side. Virgil poked at Remus’s head with his fingers, but Remus didn’t react other than to groan again.

After a moment, the movie began playing, and no one spoke further. Patton’s hand continued rubbing along Remus’s back, and eventually, Virgil’s hand found its way into Remus’s hair.

Remus fell asleep like that.

He woke up some time later. Virgil’s hand was no longer in his hair, but Patton’s hand was still on his back — though it had now stilled — and the movie was still playing.

Remus sat up groggily.

“How ya feeling, kiddo?” Patton asked quietly. Virgil was sleeping with his head on Patton’s shoulder.

“Fine,” Remus croaked. “Better.”

“That’s good,” Patton smiled. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was playing a video game, and it was making me feel icky, and I realized I’m aromantic.”

“You just realized you’re aromantic?” Virgil asked incredulously without opening his eyes.

“Shh,” Patton shushed, petting Virgil’s head. “I’m sorry your game made you feel icky, Re, what happened?”

“It made me pick a character to date, and then it made me have an awkward conversation with a different character who liked me.”

“Gross.” Virgil agreed, hating any awkward NPC interaction video games forced on him.

“Do you want to pick the next movie?” Patton offered, gesturing at the end credits scrolling across the screen.

Remus perked up and jumped to his feet to pick out a movie from the house DVD before realizing something. “I’m crashing your Valentine's plans, aren’t I?”

“No,” Virgil answered immediately.

“We like having you here, kiddo,” Patton smiled, patting the space Remus had just vacated on the couch.

“Really?” Remus asked skeptically. Patton was way too nice to ever kick anyone out, even if he was trying to have a nice date with his boyfriend.

“Really! We would have watched movies in our room if we weren’t okay with you joining us!”

That was a fair point, no matter how many lectures on the effects of watching TV at bedtime Logan gave, Patton and Virgil continued to have a TV in their room so they could watch movies alone when Virge was feeling too peopled-out.

“Pick a movie and sit down.” Somehow, Virgil’s grumpiness was even more convincing than Patton’s cheeriness.

Remus popped Coraline into the DVD player and happily joined Virgil and Patton back on the couch.

“But seriously,” Virgil said after several minutes where Remus had thought he’d gone back to sleep. “How did you just figure out you’re aromantic? Should I have told you?”

“I’m not that obvious!” Remus sniffed indignantly.

“Sure.” The eye roll was practically audible. “Whatever you say, Re.”

~~~END~~~

I spent several years trying to figure out if I was aromantic or not, but I couldn’t figure out what romantic feelings were (which honestly should have been a hint) so it took a video game forcing me to date an NPC to go “I still don’t really get what romantic feelings are, but they’re def gross”

Anyway I now avoid any video game that involves potential romance

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling

#ts sanders sides #sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #aromantic remus sanders #asexual remus sanders #aroace remus sanders #thursday writes #my writing #sanders sides fanfiction

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fallen-in-dreams · 1 year ago

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Wide Awake At 3 A.M.

Also on AO3. Pairing: Sasuke/Hinata. Summary: Sasuke didn't believe in fate but serendipity seemed to be working overtime when she walked back into his life. Written for SasuHinaMonth 2023 on tumblr. Prompt: Day 27 | "I’ve loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more.” Rated: T. Words: 9,245. Status: Complete. Author note: I love SasuHina. I don't love writing Sasuke's POV. I think I write SasuHina better from Hinata's perspective. But this had to be Sasuke's perspective so please bare with me. I did my best to make him IC/relatable, even though it's AU. Let me know if I succeeded. :) Also: The italic sections are flashbacks. But don't worry, they're not long sections. For the record: Yotsuya Uemura is a real restaurant but I've only seen it on Google so I don't know if it 100% matches how I describe it here so just pretend it does, okay? Enjoy. ^_^ Tags on AO3: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shop AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Light Romance, Romance, POV Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Pining, Pining Uchiha Sasuke, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sasuke has it bad, Past Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

It's late but before the cut-off time, for SasuHinaMonth 2023. Thank-you to @sasuhinamonth for the amazing fest and the chance to write for it. :) .

It was a dreary November morning when Sasuke Uchiha had realised that he was in love with Hinata Hyuuga.

The red-crowned cranes were enjoying the winter in the nearby marshes, visible to the hundreds of students at Konoha High School, the beautiful display of their black and white plumage blending in with the falling snow. The setting was perfect. It was beautiful. Sasuke liked winter best, despite being born in summer. And maybe in spite of it. It was a dreary reminder of the angsty, emo boy within. It was also the only thing worth paying attention to at the school.

Until he started paying attention to her.

She was his best friend’s girlfriend. Hinata had stalked Naruto for years, hiding behind poles and doors and teacher’s desks to avoid being seen; and everyone except for the dobe saw knew she was doing it. All throughout elementary school she was a ghost to the blond idiot; the shadow he saw in the corner of his eye that disappeared the moment he turned around. The sound of a thump, indicating she’d fainted was the only evidence she’d been there because he was too stupid to investigate further.

The three years of middle school went very much the same except Hinata didn’t hide so well anymore. Naruto finally noticed her. She would “eep” and faint again and he just chalked it up to her being the weird kid he’d never understand. He thought she was new to their school so he cut her a break. Having been Naruto’s friend since neither of them could walk, Sasuke could only roll his eyes at his obliviousness.

Then came high school and everything changed. Something had happened during the holidays because, come April, she had grown a spine. She still looked light-headed in Naruto’s presence but didn’t faint. She started talking; responding with small, stuttering sentences when he turned his bright, obnoxious personality on her. She was a person to him now. More than just weird.

Sasuke however, was content to just keep seeing her as the annoying girl who liked the even more annoying boy. Until the annoying people started dating and Naruto began including Hinata in their everyday activities, whether it had anything to do with her or not. He hated it at first but like an extra slice of tomato on his fried egg breakfast, she grew on him. She was a person and had likes and dislikes and hobbies and things that made her laugh or cry. He began to enjoy her voice and found himself looking forward to school. And like the red-crowned cranes that grazed in the freshwater marshes next door to their high school, Hinata became a thing of beauty in Sasuke’s eyes. By virtue of existing in an area that he couldn’t ignore.

And he both loved and hated her for it. Strong feelings were never a good thing, in any direction. Itachi had long since told him that their family had a history of letting emotions rule their lives. It was best to keep them away from the world - Sasuke's words, not his brother's. But there was only so much he could contain and control when it came to her.

And he was the selfish bastard who let it ruin everything.

.:.

Sasuke Uchiha was having multiple problems.

First problem: the hole-in-the-wall cafe he normally frequented at this time of night had closed down without warning for the foreseeable future. It had been the perfect place to hole up in for a few hours while he worked on his laptop, earphones in and fingers dancing over the keyboard. Quiet, no-one staring at him, and with waiters who respected his personal space. Company policy allowed him to stay and work as long as he made it worth their time. Now, he wasn't so sure about this new place.

Second problem: it had taken him the better part of two hours to find this newer restaurant his good-for-nothing friends had recommended to him over WhatsApp after he'd ranted calmly about the predicament, in true Uchiha style. He officially hated that app. His night was wasted walking up alleyways and hopping on buses, with the presumption of a second coming of the holy hole-in-the-wall cafe. Wasted.

Third problem: this new cafe was less hole-in-the-wall and cosy, and more ostentatious with fake wholesomeness. The promise had been for a quiet, out-of-the-way, old-fashioned service. The reality was anything but, at first glance. It was definitely off the beaten path, but he wouldn’t describe it as peaceful or discreet in any way. It made his eye twitch.

Fourth problem: he had nowhere else to go at such short notice and lots of work to catch up on.

The neon signs above the restaurant leered down at him and he did not want to go in there. He wanted to go home, put his feet up, drink his instant coffee and procrastinate as a form of protest. But the sensible side of him had Sasuke moving forward slowly, reminding himself that he couldn't keep putting this particular project. It needed to get done. So what if this restaurant wasn’t the cute little traditional Japanese hole-in-the-wall (or even a sushi or ramen stall) in the middle of bustling Tokyo that he had been promised? He told himself it didn't matter that it was high-end and in the middle of bustling Tokyo. He tried in vain to ignore that it was mocking him; lights blinked at him and he scowled at the ugly sight and he couldn't look more out of place in his casual, everyday clothes. He was surprised a butler-like person hadn't run out to shoo him away.

But this place was the last food establishment along the palisades of this busy Tokyo area that was still seating patrons (the rest were packed to the rafters), and if he went home now it would take over an hour. By the time he got home, Sasuke would be too exhausted to work. It would be annoying. Even more than actually stepping into this poor excuse for a hideaway. Sasuke debated the pros and cons over and over again for a moment before allowing himself to be carried by the line of people waiting to be seated. Decision reluctantly made, Sasuke hugged his four thousand yen Vaio laptop to his chest, waiting his turn to be seated. It looked like the kind of place that required an appointment and a line of lawyers to get in, but a sign to the left distinctly said otherwise. He guessed they would reach their occupancy limit soon and he’d be turned away.

Please turn me away.

It would remove any responsibility on himself to make the decision on whether or not to keep walking forward. He checked his wristwatch as the line moved forward again. It was just after midnight. He sighed, swallowing his anxiety as the hostess bowed to the middle-aged couple in front of him and then extended her arm to them to take their seats.

Last chance to make a break for it.

He really was being a drama queen, but Sasuke couldn't help it. He forced himself to calm down and accidentally caught the stare of the hostess. Her soft but excited voice called over to him a moment later and he stepped forward once more.

"Irasshaimase!"

The restaurant hostess bowed respectfully before looking at him properly. Her double-take, which she covered up with a light cough and a fake smile, made Sasuke’s eye twitch. Again.

Don’t tell me…

“Mr Uchiha?”

Don’t they teach manners in this place?

The woman's face looked flushed with excitement. She’d recognised him. Even without an entourage or sign above his head, Sasuke Uchiha was easily identifiable as such. It was why he preferred quieter places and dark corners. There it was; it was either a stomach ache or an ulcer. It churned inside of him and he winced. The Mr Uchiha title always made him think of his father. He loathed being recognised for his family. He was no longer the idiotic teenager who got off on it. Nursing heartbreak and lashing out had turned him into an arsehole who flaunted his superiority. But not anymore. The way the hostess was raking his body with her eyes was both unprofessional and unwelcome.

Someone behind Sasuke cleared their throat. He was holding up the line. Or rather, she was. Sasuke still had two choices: neither or which would have a happy ending.

What would Itachi do?

He’d be polite and suffer for a few hours to make others feel better.

Idiot.

Sasuke sighed deeply, nodded to the hostess, and grimaced at her juvenile reaction. “Table for one, please. Work table, out of the way.”

Hopefully, she got the hint he’d pay extra for it if necessary. Seemingly gathering herself and remembering she was on the clock, the hostess nodded and bowed again, extending her arm the way she’d done for the couple before him. She took the lead this time, however, making him cringe outwardly again. The table she chose was everything he’d wanted it to be and he offered her a small smile in gratitude. Thankfully, she didn’t make a big deal of it this time, giving him a much shorter once-over before politely leaving him alone.

His table was almost like a cubicle which suited him just fine. From ramen restaurants to Yakitori and Kare Raisu, he’d tried all the ones that Tokyo had to offer. All the good ones anyway. No matter the setup, privacy was always his top priority. He settled down, placing his laptop on the table and his bag on the chair next to him, leaving space for food and a drink. Already his mind was going over the project he had to finish tonight; Sasuke had a few hours before the final bus of the night would be running through these parts. But if he had any trouble, an Uber wouldn't be a problem. Not preferable, but not really a problem.

But first things first.

There were waitresses taking orders as well as a front counter but Sasuke didn't want to deal with either one of them and instead chose to use the QR code on the table to order on his phone. The first time he’d heard of this method of ordering it had kind of freaked him out initially, but since it would help him avoid having to interact with a potential fangirl masquerading as a professional waitress (for longer than necessary, anyway) or stand behind people or in front of someone with no respect for his personal space he would do it. It cut out the middleman, so to speak, and allowed him to get down to the important business of the night.

As he waited, Sasuke woke up his laptop and opened Atom. After about five minutes, and as expected, his drink came first. Sasuke always wondered about this; was the drink delivered first to keep the customer from leaving during the extended wait time for the food or so that when he did finally eat, he would feel compelled to order another drink to wash it down with? Or some combination of both?

The sounds of the restaurant blurred into the background and became white noise as Sasuke worked, glasses on and eyes glued to the CSS Script. He only knew it only took forty-five minutes for his meal to be delivered because he checked the time before and after. When the Okonomiyaki was finally placed in front of him and the aroma invaded his senses his stomach growled. Sasuke nodded to the waitress as she bowed to him, a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks before leaving with a Cheshire grin on her face. He just rolled his eyes. Sasuke had just finished cutting up his Okonomiyaki, preparing to eat it with chopsticks in one hand so he could continue working when something familiar caught his eye.

He didn't believe in fate but serendipity seemed to be working overtime tonight.

His heart was racing, belied by the calm on his face as he almost choked on his saliva. Sasuke coughed a few times before reaching to down the last of his ice water. He cleared his throat and looked back over at Hinata Hyuuga. Even after the passage of all these years, he would recognize that long dark hair of hers anywhere (even tied back in the mandatory style for workers of this restaurant). This entire time, in the corner of his eye, and in another seated area, had been an achingly familiar form; those slim but not stick-skinny hips with legs that rested with knees turned slightly inward, and breasts that screamed for attention without being obnoxiously in his face. Yes, he remembered the curves and the tones of the body that came with being from a martial arts enthusiastic family.

The one he'd fantasised about like a love-sick puppy when his hormones still ruled his life.

He inhaled deeply, absentmindedly stabbing his Okonomiyaki with the end of a chopstick, then let his breath out in a shuddering sigh. The sweet, innocent face that had haunted his dreams until he'd succeeded in forcing his school memories into a mental box labelled "do not open, even in the event of an apocalypse" was turned to a customer but he could still clearly spot the trademark lavender-white Hyuuga eyes. They lit up with her smile.

Sasuke didn't care that it was unbecoming of him and continued to stare as he inattentively picked at the Okonomiyaki before grabbing a bite-sized portion of the now-diced savoury dish and shoving it in his mouth. The cursor at the end of the last line of code he typed blinked at him. He ignored it. And he paid no attention to the fact that his glasses had slid down his nose an inch; they were for reading on a computer screen and had made the near-distant objects fuzzy, which he blamed for not having noticed her sooner.

Her presence begged more questions than he was willing to ask himself. But at the very least, what the fuck was the oldest daughter of Hiashi Hyuuga doing working in the service industry? It was beneath the uptight clan. He knew Hinata was not stuck up like her father but surely there were more Hyuuga-like jobs she could do? He remembered a girl who was determined to follow her own path but constantly worried about disappointing her father. Sasuke had presumed she'd find something that filled both desires. Not that there was anything wrong with the retail and hospitality industries. He'd had his own stint in them, so he knew they weren't the jobs of losers like his own father had kept saying years ago.

I'm just very confused how she got here.

This was not a future she'd contemplated and he'd know: she'd once spent an afternoon indulging Naruto in the topic when the blond idiot was whining about having failed the standardised test to get into the university of his choice. She's humoured him with all the alternative career paths, and this wasn't one they'd decided on. But that was life, he guessed, even though it made him painfully curious as to why she wasn't working as one of the many father-approved ideas she'd mentioned as she'd apparently planned.

Sasuke’s stomach churned and did somersaults as he watched her, unable to look away.

What is she doing here?

Sasuke cleared his throat and shook his head, forcing himself to look away; though she was still there in his peripherals and his traitorous eyes desperately soaked her in, from afar. He tried to focus on his work, finishing off the black coffee he'd ordered, to wash down the Okonomiyaki he'd consumed without realising during his staring spell.

I'm as bad as those fangirls.

He tried, he really did. But nothing was working. Sasuke couldn't stop wondering about her. He hadn’t thought of Hinata in a long while. Years. No, not in a long time. He’d successfully purged her from his thoughts. From his wants. From his needs. Buried her down in his mind, underneath the childhood trauma and repressed heartbreak. It had been almost like a breakup; Sasuke had gone through a period of emotional upheaval and consumed hobbies and alcohol in order to forget her. He’d moped and sulked and all those cliche things, in his own way. She was behind him, and not in the way he wanted her to be.

Sasuke had been on the road to recovery and was able to put that part of his life into a locked box in his head.

Until now.

Maybe she didn’t remember him. Maybe he could finish his work and she’d never even seen him. One could only hope it would be that easy. But no. He couldn’t risk it. He had to leave. Sasuke almost packed up his stuff and left right then and there. He had no desire to play catch-up after all this time. To hear about how good things had been since she'd lived her life with the dobe. Jealousy burned in his gut and he grabbed the carry bag for his laptop by the straps, clenching his fist over it tightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force the old but familiar feelings away. He'd done such a good job at ignoring them for so long. How could he possibly have predicted this strong of a reaction after all these years? Weren't high school love interests meant to dwindle over the years? Why the fuck did he still feel this way?

His self-flagellation was interrupted by an angelic sound. Her laughter. The melodic sound drifted over to his table and he paused. His heart was racing once more and his hands were clammy. Even now, five years later, he was still such a sucker for her. Where was the dobe? Had they married? Did he even want to know? There was a reason he didn't know. He remembered Hinata as a stuttering but determined, beautiful mess. But now, looking at her confidently interacting with strangers like she was born to it, he felt a warmth spread through his body. It wasn’t the coffee working its way through his system. This was different.

And it doesn't even matter. She wouldn't care.

Resigning himself to the inevitable, Sasuke packed up his laptop and left the restaurant without looking back. Except for that moment when he could've sworn she was looking around as if just realising she'd forgotten something. She didn't see him pause and gaze at her one last time. But those distinctive eyes seemingly searched for him anyway. In his dreams.

He hadn’t seen her since high school. He was never supposed to see her ever again.

.:.

Nobody ever accused Sasuke Uchiha of being magnanimous, sweet, or kind-hearted in any way. They didn’t confuse him for his brother no matter how much they might look alike. While Itachi was off helping the local homeless center and being the perfect Uchiha heir, Sasuke was smoking pot - or whatever had been shoved under his nose this week - and availing himself of his fangirls. Everyone came to assume he was the troubled child who acted out because he didn't get the attention from his parents that he wanted. Nobody ever accused him of being fair and altruistic to others.

Except her.

She got in his head. Hinata Hyuuga thought that because he was Naruto’s best friend that he should be hers as well. She was adamant but gentle in her attempts to woo him into her good graces. As though friendship was the most wonderful thing in the world. He wasn't an arsehole, not really. Sasuke had a heart. He just kept it hidden away. As far as he was concerned, getting emotional was embarrassing. It was for children . So pushing her away wasn't just about avoiding spending time with the girlfriend of his best friend, who he happened to be in love with, but also to keep himself from doing anything stupid.

He thought he could do it. It only took him a year to fall in love. They had two more years of high school left together. He had to do it. His father would never understand why he had to switch schools so suddenly. He wouldn't care. It would be unthinkable. Rumours, lies, or truth, would follow him and make Fugaku look bad. He was not an understanding nor forgiving man. Sasuke had to pretend: for his own sanity. Hinata was his new best friend.

So he let her greet him at the bus stop after school. He let her hug him "hello" her breasts pressing up against him every time. And on the rainy days when he was feeling particularly friend-like about the whole thing he let her borrow his second, backup umbrella. He'd started bringing a spare one because she seemed to have no idea how to check for the weather. She'd thanked him and then started humming.

"What are you doing out here, in the rain?" He'd ask her every time.

“Waiting on Naruto-kun,” she would say, and he'd go quiet to avoid hearing her gushing about the dobe in question.

That was their routine in the rainy season, which he'd grown to love almost as much as her. Except for the one time he forgot, it seemed the gods had answered his unasked question on how to change up this habit and Sasuke genuinely forgot both umbrellas. And she remembered. She'd remembered. And it kind of killed him inside. She offered to him and he was tempted to ignore her. To start off this change with abruptness and see if he could break her into going along with it. But he couldn't.

He sighed and took the umbrella gently from her hand, making sure to avoid brushing against her hand. When she shifted her hold on it, their skin grazed and she blushed at him. He dared not look her in the eye after that. Those soft, curious eyes were boring into him and he knew what she was thinking. The poor rich boy that she wanted to be okay with her relationship with his friend; why was he so rude? What did she have to do to help him be okay with her?

He didn’t know why it mattered to her.

Sasuke didn’t bother saying, “thank-you” as he stepped out into the rain and walked away with her umbrella without looking back.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to run away. And she let him go.

.:.

That weak, love-sick part of him was back with a vengeance.

Sasuke was determined to return his life to the humdrum existence it had been before she’d walked back into it, unknowingly throwing him into emotional chaos. He couldn't go back to his usual hole-in-the-wall but there were others out there. Others he'd walked past that night due to laws involving occupancy limitations; and a festival at the time, he'd realised in hindsight, which explained a lot. There were a number of small hidey-holes he could disappear into. They matched his aesthetics better and really, it was for the best. He'd avoided her for five years, never googling either of them, and never interacting with anyone who used to know anyone he'd gone to school with. He could move on to another cafe restaurant. He tried them all.

But none of them felt right anymore.

So, Sasuke gave up, just staying at home to work and doing his best to recreate the coffee shop ambiance in his kitchen. He threw open windows and let the noise of his neighbourhood blast into his home to simulate the busy Tokyo Yotsuya Arakicho district. His favourite pastime was walking. He normally walked for miles every day. He decided to double that and start earlier. It woke him up better than coffee some days. It envigorated him in a way that sex hadn't for a while. And it gave him time to think about his day while also distracting him enough to not let his mind wander too far.

But it wasn’t the same. There was something missing. He knew what it was and now that he'd gotten a sneak peek the idea wouldn't leave him alone. It left a gaping hole in his psyche. Therefore, his resolve to avoid Yotsuya Uemura Restaurant and the serendipitous siren only lasted a week. He couldn’t help himself. Like an idiot teenager in love and doped up on hormones, he lay in bed at night remembering her smile, her laugh, and replaying every moment of his up-to-date memory of her in vivid detail. Sasuke could distract himself for a while. With both his imagination and the cold comfort of his hand. But ultimately, his own fixation was his undoing.

He couldn't go on like this without closer. There was no avoiding her now. He was going back.

.:.

She was looking at him.

I should’ve known that would eventually happen.

So why wasn't he more prepared for it? His heart skipped a beat and if he didn't have such good equilibrium he might've stumbled. The hostess was leading him to his table - which turned out to be the same one as before - and he'd searched the busy restaurant with his eyes, hoping to spot her sooner this time. He hadn't expected for their eyes to lock on one another, and especially not this early into his night. He also hadn't expected the initial shock on her face to drop into a soft smile.

He forced himself to look away as the hostess drew his attention to his table, but the weight of Hinata's stare remained. He unpacked his laptop as he'd done last time, trying very hard not to look over and give the impression he was desperately seeking her attention. He forgot to pull out his phone to make his order via the QR code and instead just slowly got comfortable; or as comfortable as he could, knowing she was still watching him. But eventually, he couldn't help himself and Sasuke looked up. She turned away immediately, clearly embarrassed at having been caught looking at him. He allowed himself a small smile at that.

And the weight of her stare left him.

He swallowed heavily as he mentally berated himself. He glanced over at her again just as she looked back for a few moments seeming to remember she had a job to do.

As do I.

One of the waitresses for his section walked by and without thinking, Sasuke raised a hand to grab her attention. “Sumimasen.”

The woman bowed to him. Hyperaware of the Hyuuga still visible from across the confines of the restaurant, he raised an eyebrow at the silent waitress who was staring at him, thoroughly nonplussed. She bowed again, said, “shou shou omachi kudasai,” and then rushed off, leaving him feeling childish.

She hadn't taken his order.

It only occurred to him once he was alone again what he'd just done. He spared an unimpressed glare at the back of Hinata's head as she happily took the order of a small family. She was throwing him off. Next thing he'd know, Sasuke would be singing and dancing out his love confessions. He snorted at himself. At least now he could use the QR code instead. Maybe. He didn't make a move to grab his phone, instead frowning after the waitress who'd disappeared into the back. This was more nerve-wracking than he'd anticipated and Sasuke debated just packing up his things and walking out. He looked over and noticed Hinata had disappeared as well. He breathed a sigh of relief, despite himself. He just needed a few moments to get his act together before deciding what to do next. He opened Atom on his laptop and began the arduous process of inline coding, occasionally glancing to the side without moving his head, to see if she'd come back out onto the floor. She was still in the back, it seemed. As he typed in a few line breaks, his mind drifted to Hinata's reactions to him. Perhaps she was as curious as he was. Maybe his arrival had stirred something in her too.

He stops working when he notices her move onto the floor, now weaving her way between tables. His breath hitches when it becomes obvious she's headed directly for his table. He almost gasps out loud when she stops right in front of him. Hinata blinked a few times before addressing him.

“S-Sas–” She cut herself off and cleared her throat and then bowed slightly; not too low and not too high. “Have you decided what you w-want to order?”

Do I make you nervous?

Somehow that possibility gives him courage. Maybe it's because that's the part of his personality he likes best: making others uncomfortable. Even Hinata. He likes that he has an effect on her. How insignificant would he be if she was apathetic to his presence? Sasuke cleared his throat and ordered a black coffee and onigiri with a side of kimchi salad, tells HInata, “I don’t like beans” and silently bemoans his inability to not look like some kind of an idiot in front of her. She just smiles, all professional despite the twitch of her fingers that told him she ached to grab something. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes raking in his form and Sasuke stiffened at the perusal.

Why is she doing that?

And then it was all over and Hinata Hyuuga was moving away from his table, presumably heading out the back to pass on his order. She didn't stop or slow down.

Fuck.

There were so many questions in his head and he'd heard them all before. He can’t concentrate on his work. Sasuke stares at the screen as he waits for his food, his fingers poised over the keyboard and his eyes unmoving. He lived in a surreal world. Everything was happening so fast. But unlike the last time he came here, he had it coming. He'd hoped to get some answers but it felt too weird to try to talk to her, not just because she was actually working and it would be unprofessional of her. Sasuke blinked heavily, checked the time, and then his notes and references before returning his fingers to the letters on his keyboard. Letters, brackets, parentheses, and integers. He pursed his lips, trying to focus. He managed to get some work done in the time it took for Hinata to come back. He wasn't sure why she was serving in this section, but his brain refused to care to figure that out.

She stood in front of him, clearly unsure about how to talk to him, but she carried on nonetheless.

“Douzo.”

“Doumo.”

Sasuke . raised an eyebrow at her when she looked stunned that he'd replied. He supposed it was strange to hear him being polite. As Hinata bowed again, hesitated for a moment (again), and turned to leave, Sasuke inhaled deeply, just watching her go. He sat back and looked down at his hands, which had started shaking slightly. He fisted his trousers to stop them. This had been a mistake but there was nothing else to do right now but just eat his food. He ate his onigiri like a crazy person; with a fork. He waited for the rice and seaweed to stick better so it wasn’t messy but instead of picking it up with his hands, as it was designed to be eaten, he jammed the fork into it and dumped it on his kimchi salad. Sasuke forced himself to return to focusing on his work, digging holes in the onigiri and salad every few minutes, taking a few sips of his coffee, and scowling.

All awhile he was very aware of the lavender-white eyes watching him from the other side of Yotsuya Uemura Restaurant.

.:.

Sasuke returned to the restaurant but Hinata never came to get his order again. And for that, he was grateful. He could continue to ignore her, do his work until the late hours, reorder something to eat or drink every now and then (using the damn damned QR-code instead to avoid any more awkward moments), and pretend he was still in that hole-in-the-wall, that had started this mess by closing down in the first place. Two hours of peace. And then 3 A.M. would roll around and he’d start packing up slowly, languidly, as though his life didn't depend on leaving before she clocked out and got it into her head to come to say "hello" again. And despite his bladder kicking him from the inside because of all the coffee he'd avoid the restroom and call an Uber because Tokyo bus lines had stopped by then.

And he’d still be wide awake.

He got into this habit and it served him well for four weeks. A month of the now strangely alluring atmosphere of Yotsuya Uemura Restaurant. It still felt weird that this was the best place to go to where his brain would actually focus on work, even with her there. But he got complacent with their unspoken rule of ignoring each other. At least he presumed they had an agreement. It would be typical of her to break that non-agreement right when he'd let his guard down.

Sasuke spotted her heading toward him after his final cup of black coffee of the night. He licked his lips and put the cup down, watching her with an almost detached fascination. It was a strange but welcomed feeling. And suddenly she was standing in front of him with only the table and his belongings between them. She didn't speak immediately, licking her lips in a similar manner to what he'd just done. She started twiddling her thumbs and a rose-coloured flush spread across her cheeks as he continued to stare silently back at her.

Why is she here?

Her shift had clearly ended; she held a bento bag over her shoulder while the standard apron uniform and her name tag were notably absent. She had to be on her way out.

So why is she here?

Maybe she thought... no, he couldn't think of a reason. Well, perhaps the kind girl he used to know actually had unfinished business with him. Whatever that might be. He debated leaving early; his eyes went to the time on his laptop, noting it was only ten minutes before 3 A.M. so it wouldn't be completely out of character. As much as he enjoyed the view, he was not enjoying the anticipation. But when she smiled at him, in that warm, soft way he remembered, Sasuke couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Sasuke.”

Her voice was melodic and he found himself leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, entranced. And no suffix? Interesting. He remembered Hinata as one who’d been a stickler for politeness. How times had changed.

He nodded shortly to her. “Hinata.”

As though that had been permission, she slid into the chair opposite him. But the bento bag remained on her shoulder. “So you do remember m-me?”

Sasuke could only nod, his confusion masked by feigned indifference.

“I wanted to come over to say ‘hi’ s-sooner,” she said, her smile now more timid as she laced her fingers together. “The timing just never seemed r-right.”

Sasuke leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to calm down. He could do this (just this once). It was like riding a bicycle. Except he'd never actually learned to do that.

I’m definitely going to have to find another coffee restaurant now.

He had no idea what possessed him to continue coming here. This was just a recipe for disaster. It was far too awkward and he had work to do. No, wait, work was over. Or just about. Now he had to go home. Still, he didn’t have time to hash things out with old friends or crushes from high school. Memories belonged in the past. But he couldn’t help himself; a part of Sasuke still needed to know. He had to know. He had to. Or so he kept telling himself. There was only pain and heartache in memories of watching Hinata being happy with Naruto. There was no ring on her finger but not every married couple did that. Or she could’ve removed a ring while working to avoid losing it. There were a million different reasons she looked single.

How does one look single, really?

“How’s the dobe?”

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Other than the obvious.

Fighting an internal battle on whether or not to slap himself, Sasuke tried to focus on pretending he wasn't fighting with himself. He didn’t really want to know how Hinata's life with Naruto was. His mouth just seemed to have a mind of its own. Sasuke could imagine all kinds of things she might say and how he might be doing. He didn't need confirmation. As she squirmed in her seat, he blinked slowly. A hard swallow was the only sign that this conversation was making him uncomfortable.

Her smile was sad. “I wouldn’t know.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened. Why wouldn’t she know? Why wouldn't she... And then suddenly his stupid mind clicked all the pieces into place. “You’re not with him anymore?”

She shook her head.

“I thought you were looking forward to the 2.5 kids with him.”

Hinata sighed and stopped fiddling with her hands. “I’ve grown up.”

He gave her a quick appraisal, without lingering on any part of her body. Hopefully, it didn’t come off as invasive or creepy. But his mind was whirring. He nodded absentmindedly, but his heart was pounding against his rib cage. Dare he ask if she’d found someone else? Dare he poke the sleeping dragon?

“Are you–”

“I’m… s-single.”

Was she blushing? Sasuke couldn’t stop the smirk from gracing his face if he tried. The muscles responsible for twisting the side of his mouth into a smirk felt stiff though. He suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted from his soul. His body was lighter and his cluttered mind cleared. He sighed in contentment. At least for that part of her revelation.

A different kind of anxiety now slammed his heart against his chest.

They sat in awkward silence as Sasuke ordered a new, different drink. The doors would be closing soon so he had to do this quickly. When the milkshake came, he took a sip and then pushed it lightly, in her direction. If he drank any more coffee there would be no going to sleep tonight but this was too sweet for his tastes, normally. He already desperately needed to use the toilets. Unfortunately, it wasn’t socially acceptable to ask complete strangers or staff to watch his stuff while he used the facilities, so Sasuke would usually be gone by now, on his way home, and to that sweet porcelain of relief.

He eyed Hinata tentatively. “You seem different from the shy girl who always followed Naruto around.”

She reached out and ran a delicate finger along the condensation on the glass tumbler that held the liquid temptation. “I’ve grown up.”

Yes. And no stuttering this time. But some things clearly still stayed the same: she still loved strawberry milkshakes. (And this one had a cinnamon stick in it to boot.) She was eyeing off his drink in a slightly ravenous way but the nervous habits he remembered from high school were also still present; she was twiddling her thumbs and clearly too polite to just take his drink. These were parts of the reason he’d fallen so heavily for her in the first place. She was adorable in her weird mix of social graces and anxiety. He knew a little about social anxiety himself. He’d never cared much for how others perceived him, but adulthood had taught him some hard-learned lessons on why it would never get him anywhere in life to carry on as though nobody else mattered.

Yet so much about Sasuke had not changed at all.

Still a selfish bastard.

He wanted and he got. At least where it was possible.

Sasuke raised his eyebrows at Hinata in what he hoped was a challenging look. She sat up straighter and licked her lips before her eyes dropped to his drink in understanding. He remembered from his few years in this industry just how ragged one could feel at the end of a long shift. He hadn't had to worry about the nine-to-five bullshit for so long but some things were just unforgettable. This drink was an offer more than a challenge: was she thirsty enough to take him up on it? How much had she really changed? She'd never have taken his drink back in school. Now she had an open but silent invitation.

Hinata pulled the drink toward herself, stopping it in the middle of the table before leaning over it to take the rim of the glass between her lips. He watched in erotic fascination as she lifted the glass and pursed her lips against it. He fixated on her mouth as she gulped it down. His eyes were drawn to every distinct and enthralling move she made. Not to mention how when she’d leaned over it was too bad her uniform wasn’t more revealing but it did give his inner pervert ideas.

"Watch my stuff?" He asked and she distractedly nodded, continuing to enjoy her drink.

He decided the strawberry milkshake was a fair price to pay in return for her watching his belongings. It was her fault he wasn’t on his way home yet, after all. Sasuke didn’t like public toilets but with the very single and beautiful Hyuuga sitting in front of him, smacking her lips together after a long guzzle of her favourite drink, and her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, he found he didn’t care about that. He was just glad he hadn't run away every chance he got, since the first time he entered Yotsuya Uemura Restaurant.

When he returned she was still sitting in her chair but had angled her body to peak at what he had on his screen, her delicate eyebrows raised; she was either surprised or impressed.

Yes, he was very glad indeed that they were both still here.

.:.

It became a habit. Sasuke would arrive around midnight, take his usual spot in the darkest corner of the brightly lit restaurant, order using the QR code, and then unpack his laptop. He would spend the first forty-five minutes sipping on his water (or black tea; either of which would later be replaced by black coffee anyway) and working on his project design and immersing himself in every edit. When the food came he would pick at it while still working and occasionally peeking over the top of his laptop as Hinata worked in the distance. The way her fringe bobbed as she smiled brightly at a customer, even if they were monopolising her time with their order. He found a new appreciation in just gazing at her.

And as was a habit, Sasuke would be finished with his food within the hour, ordering the first black coffee of the night. If he was still hungry, he’d grab a side salad or Spicy Ahi Poke around two o’clock, when his battery would start to wind him down, even with the coffee. Web coding was a far slower and more tedious skill set than most people realised. Depending on the job, it could take him months to finish, and these weren’t the cheap, easy pages of online website builders that anyone from his grandmother and borderline illiterate next-door neighbour could use to create their own site. He tested his static preview several times before deciding to stop and stretch out his tired muscles.

Then the cherry on the top: Hinata would clock off at 3 A.M. and join him at his table. A new strawberry milkshake bribe and she would heroically protect his belongings as he used the toilets and when he returned, she would regale him with stories about her family and friends while asking him questions about his own. He knew the shy, bumbling Hinata of his youth was not completely gone when he asked her more personal questions and she flushed; a lovely shade of pink he had never thought to cherish until now. Sasuke did not ask about past relationships because he was enjoying pretending she hadn’t been with anyone since Naruto. She did hint to it a few times but he shut that down quickly, not wanting to hear about her dating other men.

And in kind, it would be hypocritical of him to talk about his own sex life. Not that she would care about that.

It wasn’t the healthiest take on relationships, but it was what he had to offer.

After a week of this habit, Sasuke was disappointed to see the weekend painfully arrive. It meant her days off and he couldn’t bring himself to go to the restaurant knowing she wouldn’t be there. He almost asked her if they could meet up on the weekend but didn’t want it to feel like he was being needy. Or coming across too strong. The weekend dragged on with familial obligations and friends who were determined to get him drunk or laid. Or both. He ignored them all. Then Monday came again and Sasuke spent the day the way he spent every weekday since Hinata came back into his life; anticipating the night time.

What a boring life I lead.

He’d sunk low. Sasuke had spent years being content with his romantic isolation. No-one, no matter how many times he dated, could ever compare to the first person he’d fallen in love with. But he’d been fine with that. Until now. Now he was looking forward to being close to a beautiful woman who didn't annoy him. The very person he could never completely move on from.

Though he was scared at the thought of asking her if he was the only one feeling anything.

The second week of this habit changed everything. He was waking up with a smile on his face. He was going to bed content and peaceful. It wasn’t like Sasuke had never looked forward to things; he anticipated the weekend, the end of the night after another one of his mother’s forced family get together’s, the change in the balance of his bank account after finishing a project for a client. Even the occasional date or romp in the sheets (he used to indulge in) allowed him to release the stress of the week even though they were always temporary fixes. And of course, running. Sitting at a computer for hours didn’t do his body any good and he had gotten into the habit of jogging for over an hour every early in the mornings.

Habits.

But it was time for this new one to break. Because he hadn’t done much other than jog or work since remeeting Hinata. He needed more from her, not just the moments so late in the night that it would be inappropriate to invite her back to his apartment. And he needed to know that this was okay with her. He’d lost out years ago but there was no Naruto-dobe to get in the way this time. He wasn’t the hot-blooded and assertive type. He didn't get riled up and led on. But that was another habit he was intent on breaking - for this instance, at least.

He “hn’d” his way through his first night of the week with her before becoming more obvious. He didn't have much experience flirting anyway. When he passed the milkshake to her his fingers lingered and he stared into her eyes, delighting in the way her breath hitched and her lips parted. She would place a shaky hand on the glass tumbler, wrapping her hand around it delicately and waiting for him to let go. his fingers would deliberately brush against hers and she swallowed heavily. The dynamic had changed. She would drink with less vigour but still finish every last drop.

They shared his side of hot potato chips, which were always too much for him anyway, and he was reminded of those cartoon dogs who shared pasta. The urge to kiss Hinata would resurface whenever his mind drifted and he had to push that down. For now.

“I think it's time to leave,” she said, blushing slightly. "They're closing up now."

They were indeed moving furniture and changing signs.

“Hn.”

Hinata was bold when it mattered; she reached over with a napkin and wiped at the side of his mouth. Her shy smile grew wider when he didn’t move away and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. His lips parted and his eyes dropped to her mouth when she licked her lips. Was the air dry for her too? He felt like a sudden heat wave had set on them both. But when she was done wiping at the sauce on his mouth the moment was over. She pulled back and averted her eyes nervously.

Maybe she’d been expecting me to kiss her?

He had no idea. But it couldn't hurt to find out. Sasuke started the habit of packing up his belongings as Hinata sighed in resignation and slowly stood.

Once upon a time, when he didn't have a choice - when his life wasn’t his to dictate - Sasuke had bemoaned his future. Now he realised he was regaining something inside himself that he’d never known was actually possible.

A future with her.

.:.

The final nail in this coffin was a wake-up call.

His friendship with Naruto was ruined. When she touched the idiot, Sasuke imagined she was touching him. When she kissed the dobe, Sasuke imagined those were his lips she worshipped. Her hands were on his, her body pressed against him; her moans, his groans, and their pleasure. Sasuke was plagued with images and what-ifs. Naruto had his future with Hinata figured out. Sasuke's life was over. It didn't matter that he loved them both, even though in different ways. It only mattered that every smile was killing him. Sasuke didn't believe in real souls, not really. But if he did have one, the other half of it was being torn away from him.

Naruto asked Hinata to marry him in the middle of the high school graduation ceremony, disrupting the flow like the baka he was. And while the principal yelled at him, the blond made a public menace of himself as the school graduates rallied to his romantic gesture.

Everyone but Sasuke. And nobody noticed.

He couldn’t handle it, seeing them together all lovey-dovey and declaring they were meant to be. The whole school cheering. The lights glared down and closed in on him as his vision blurred. It was too much, even for him, Mr. Ice-box anal arsehole with a reputation for not giving a shit. He should’ve seen it coming but until Hinata said, “yes” and let Naruto sweep her into the most affectionate and disgusting kiss that Sasuke had ever seen, he hadn’t thought it would happen. It couldn’t happen. She was better than this. The fates were kinder than this. Naruto was notoriously slow on the uptake. Surely he would be too lazy or unreliable to think of such a permanent change in his life.

But apparently not anymore. He was serious. They were engaged. They would be getting married.

And all Sasuke wanted to do was scream in frustration and rage. He was done putting up with this! It felt selfish to do but he had to. There was no emotional outburst - that would come later, in the privacy of his own home - no. He was a picture of calm as he started to back away from his cheering graduation class. He took one last look at the chaotic scene Naruto had caused, snatched up his own diploma, and turned away. He was soon to be enrolled at Tohoku University. He was moving away from this backwater town. Far away from everyone he knew. To Tokyo.

Alone.

Sasuke left all of his friends behind and cut off all contact, ignoring their attempts to find him. And hers.

And he never saw his best friend again.

.:.

She tasted like strawberries and lavender.

Sasuke finally broke his habit three weeks after their fated reunion. (Now that he was contemplating that maybe fate was a thing.) Packing his laptop away, he’d reached for a second bag that had been sitting on the chair next to him. He’d known it was likely to rain so Sasuke brought two compact umbrellas with him with plans for them both to get used. He’d contemplated just bringing one large, oversized umbrella but didn’t want to make Hinata awkward with the presumptuous closeness. She seemed skittish with surprises. So now she stood with him under the awning that decorated the front of the restaurant and he was suddenly very grateful for bad yet predictable weather.

“Sasuke?”

He looked down at the woman in his arms. Gone was the facade that this was anything other than a blossoming relationship. He'd taken her hand and stood proud as a peacock when she squeezed his hand in return. She let him pull her closer, their umbrellas overlapping above their heads as they stared into each other's eyes. She'd let him lean in closer and duck his head under her umbrella to breathe in her sudden intake of air. She was anticipating this too, he knew. This situation was familiar, though he was determined to have it play out differently. Maybe she didn’t remember that day in the rain, so long ago when he'd wanted to kiss her after she'd let him use her umbrella. She’d never tracked him down to get it back and he'd never offered it back. Or maybe he’d intimidated her too much for her to retrieve it.

“Hinata…” His free hand cupped her face and he took in every inch of her face, his eyes memorising every detail. The flush of her skin, the plumpness of her lips, the way she tilted toward him instinctively. “I want to kiss you.”

What was it his father had once said? Never ask for permission. Sasuke knew Fugaku’s approach to women was toxic. His mother’s issues were proof of that. But there was a little part of himself that had wanted to just take those succulent-looking lips between his teeth before she had the chance to pull away. However, he respected her too much for that. He needed to know she wanted this too.

Hinata smiled and nodded. “Okay. I want to kiss you, too.”

(No more stuttering.)

And that was his permission. When he lowered his mouth to hers he was already slanting his head in anticipation for the tilt of their faces as they embraced each other. Full-mouthed, energetic, uncompromising; he grasped her almost too tightly as her parted lips allowed him entry. Sasuke devoured her mouth. Their eyes closed, his body pressed so intimately against hers; the pouring rain faded into the background. There was only her. Only them. And when she moaned and returned his vigour, he finally felt like he'd come home.

.:.

#SasuHina #SHMonth2023 #SasuHinaMonth2023 #My Fanfiction #fanfiction

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imjustasimpxd · 2 years ago

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All Actions Have Consequences | Chapter Three

➬ Kento Nanami x Fem reader

Pairing : Mafia Kento Nanami x fem reader

Summary : They say evil actions can be done with good intentions, this is especially true for Kento Nanami. Growing up, he was taught to always remain honest, respectful, and hard working. For the most part he was, that is, until being fired from his job forced him into a financial chokehold. Desperate to figure out a way to provide for his wife, Nanami crosses paths with the leader of his country’s biggest underground mafia empire, deciding to secretly work under them in order to make ends meet. We know desperate times call for desperate measures, but how long can Nanami hide this vile profession from his wife before it comes back to bite him?

Word count : Almost 4,000 words

Warnings : slight kissing and affection, Nanami is anxious and nervous, mentions of “verbally abusive behavior”,

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

Nanami had one hand on the wheel while his other was kept intertwined with yours, fingers rubbing back and forth in a gentle manner across your skin. His touch was so tender, so loving and patient: a complete contrast to the way he was feeling on the inside.

Although he was clearly trying his best to deliver a calming and peaceful atmosphere through his actions, there was still an undeniably heavy sense of tension looming around the two of you.

The radio loudly played an upbeat melody that could be heard from all corners of the vehicle, however, the car ride over to your parent’s house still felt silent all the same.

Nanami’s muscles were tense as his hand gripped around yours, his face adorned a slight scowl, and even his voice when he did speak up felt hesitant and quiet.

Despite the unconvincing “I’m just tired from work” he had given earlier when you asked why he seemed so uptight, you still knew something was troubling him. You resisted the urge to ask him again because you knew what kind of answer you’d get, but regardless, it didn’t change the fact that you could practically feel the conflict brewing inside him.

You didn’t have to be a detective to know why he was acting this way, you were all too familiar with the anxiety your husband displayed whenever it came time to see your father in person. There was an ever-present sense of dread that seemed to settle around him whenever meetings between the two men took place.

A wave of guilt festered inside your stomach as you gazed at your husband’s nervous expression, noticing the subtle tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel beginning to pick up its pace.

It pained you to make him go when you understood how much he was dreading it, however, it pained you even more to continue to watch your own husband and father not get along.

Sure it wasn’t as big of a deal right now since you hardly saw your parents, but what about holidays? What about family gatherings? Were you supposed to just exclude your own husband from those meaningful events to avoid any conflict arising?

What about when you had kids? How could you bear letting your children see the way their grandfather would treat their own father? Would your Dad even love your children the same knowing that they were just as much a part of Nanami as they were of you? What if one of the kids looked like Nanami? What would happen then? Surely your father wouldn’t verbally abuse his own grandchild the way he did his own son-in-law.

There were so many questions, so many uncertainties arising because of the conflict between two of the most important men in your life. This marriage wasn’t just the bonding of two people, it was the bonding of two families as well, and if either of those families wanted to live in peace together then they’d have to find a way to get along.

None of this would fix itself, and frankly, none of this pain and frustration was going to disappear either unless you did something about it. So, no matter what it took, in order to create a better future for everyone involved in this unity, you promised yourself you’d work your hardest to get your father to see Kento Nanami the way you did: As the selfless and kind man he truly was.

You didn’t know exactly what it was about your husband that seemed to always set your father’s teeth on edge, but regardless, you’d stand by Kento’s side and defend him against anything your father could throw at him. Because Nanami wasn’t just some random guy you used to have a class with during college: No, he was the first man you ever truly felt valued with.

Of course, there had been other men in your life before your husband came along, even one you almost married. And it’s not like any of those men were bad people, one in particular you had known since you were a young girl, and even back then he had always been tremendously kind and sweet towards you. But regardless, it didn’t change the fact that they all, including him, had been arranged by your father to be your potential husband.

No matter what meaningful gestures they would commit, or whatever affectionate words that would slip past their mouths: none of it could convince you of their feelings. It may have come off as hard to please now that you thought about it, but honestly, with the temptation of a mountain of wealth only accessible by your hand in marriage, who wouldn’t blame you for being skeptical of every man your father pushed towards you; no matter how loving they truly were.

It was a dreadful way to live: never knowing if a man’s affection was given based on his actual love for you, or for his selfish desire to gain your money and position by marrying you.

That’s why you turned down every suitor your father sent your way no matter how upset it made him, and that’s exactly why you married Kento Nanami instead.

Because Kento Nanami was the first man who showed genuine affection towards you without knowing anything about your wealth and social status.

In fear of the same uncertainty arising with any other man, you had kept your family’s identity a secret from everyone when you attended that college; so Nanami was never even aware you had a sky-high inheritance lingering around you.

However, even when you finally did confess your background to him, Kento Nanami never once become greedy because of it, nor did he ever give up on pursuing you despite your father threatening to take away any money he’d get if you married him.

Whether it was something as simple as his gentle gaze when it remained on you, or something as monumental as when he blatantly declared that he would willingly work multiple jobs just to provide for you: either way, in your heart, Kento Nanami had proved that he undoubtedly loved you for you, and you only.

You had heard every compliment known to man, received every bit of “special treatment” a man dating you should give, but none of it felt special until it came from Nanami. The words “you look beautiful” had been spoken to you millions of times already, but it only ever had you blushing when it was said by Nanami.

Because with him it felt real, it felt genuine.

“Is this just an act?” “Does he really love me like he says?”

Those words had anxiously rummaged around inside your brain with every man you had been with; every single one except the man who now sat next to you, the same one whose hand was clasped around yours as he pressed the brake pedal in response to the red light straight ahead.

“Does he really love me like he says he does?”

You never had to ask yourself that question when it came to Nanami; he had already assured you of that answer millions of times through his actions alone; and he would continue to do so for as long as life would allow him.

That’s why, no matter how hard it was to feel separated from your family, or how painful it was to hear “you deserve better” from the people you were close to: you wouldn’t yield in your fight to defend your husband.

He was hated not just by your family, but by your friends as well, and anyone else who cared for you: because all they ever saw him for was a greedy little gold-digger.

However, you prayed that would change tonight, and you were already starting to feel the slightest bit hopeful about that possibility since your father had willingly invited you and your husband over for dinner.

Maybe this was a turning point?

Maybe… things would finally change… for the better…

The car quickly came to a stop in the circular drive of your parent’s house, its headlights illuminating one of the most achingly beautiful houses Kento Nanami had ever seen.

He had been to your parent’s mansion several times, and even now he couldn’t deny its breathtaking structure and design. The exterior was draped with dozens of stone columns and a couple of large balconies; the fountain that stood in the middle of the yard was flowing at a rapid pace. Even the panels lining the windows and doors looked as if they cost more than Nanami’s paycheck. Everything about the house itself was beyond mesmerizing, but it wasn’t exactly the same case with the people who lived inside.

A shuddering breath escaped Nanami’s lips as he turned off the car, his hand anxiously reaching to grasp the handle so he could get out. However, before he could, your voice suddenly filled the air, stopping him in his place before he could open the door.

“Ken?”

His head quickly whipped around to look you in the eyes. “Yeah?” He questioned, curious to know what you were needing.

“You don’t have to be nervous about the dinner, okay?” You spoke frankly, watching Kento’s eyes widen, his face soon rotating away from you in a sheepish manner once you began exposing the thoughts he was hoping to keep concealed.

“I don’t- I don’t know what you’re-t-talking…” Your husband quickly scrambled to deny your veracious assumptions, his words stuttering past his lips as he attempted to convince you otherwise. But no matter how hard he could try, you’d never fall for it, and deep down, a small part of him knew it too.

“Ken?” You spoke in order to get his attention, placing your hand reassuringly on his shoulder subsequently. “You don’t have to worry about tonight, I’ll be there the entire time, okay?” Your fingers softly caressed his back, watching as his head turned towards you once again, his heart softening instantly once he met your gentle gaze.

“I know.” He spoke with a hushed sigh, his hand reaching to hold the one you had placed atop his shoulder. “I just don’t really feel like being belittled tonight.”

You felt your heart sink at the way your husband’s expressions lowered, the color seeming to drain from his face as he sat there, contemplating all the things that could go wrong once he stepped foot inside that beautiful mansion.

It was painful to have to witness, but in the end, you knew this would all be worth it if the relationship between your husband and your father improved.

“I know honey,” You agreed with him, lifting your free hand to swipe away the few strands of blonde hair hanging across his forehead. “But hey,” you continued, “if at any point you feel uncomfortable, then just tell me and we’ll leave, alright?”

A gentle smile stretched across your face as you spoke, followed by one last sentence your husband didn’t realize he needed to hear before now.

“We’re a team Kento, and I don’t plan on switching sides anytime soon.”

Nanami’s subtle scowl immediately softened at your words, his heartbeat slowing momentarily as he stared at you, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

Even after marrying him made you lose your livelihood, and caused a separation between you and your family, here you still were, willing to defend him at a moment’s notice if it were necessary.

“Thank you sweetheart.” Nanami leaned forward to place an affectionate kiss on your forehead, his words soft and warm as he mumbled them against your skin.

“You’re welcome.” You answered, a gentle giggle suddenly tickling at your throat when your husband’s lips began to linger on your face, trailing down to plant a couple more kisses on your cheeks and the tip of your nose; then continuing as his lips started to journey down towards your neck.

“Ken! Stop, we need to go inside!” Your hands moved to find his chest, using it to push yourself away with another bubbly giggle.

“Don’t worry love, they won’t care if we’re a little late.” He teased, allowing a bold smirk to line his lips as he started leaning back over the center console, hoping to finish his work.

“Mr. Nanami! Don’t say things like that outside my parent’s house!” Your hands lifted to cover your face as you felt a familiar warmth painting across your cheeks. You were blushing hard, embarrassingly hard; almost as if this was your first time ever being kissed by him, or in general.

“Hmm, looks like someone’s a little shy tonight.” He shook his head playfully at your behavior, chuckling to himself as he watched the way you blindly swatted him away. “Guess you want me to wait till later then, huh?” He added, immediately earning a flustered “Yes, please wait!” as you continued to cover your face, still hopelessly failing to hide the crimson shading traveling across your cheeks.

“Fine,” He pulled away, a soft whine lacing with his tone as he spoke. “But I’m continuing where I left off when we get home.”

Your eyes peeked from behind your hands, finally placing them down at your sides again when you saw him reach for his door handle. Once he stepped outside the vehicle, Nanami’s body then made its way around the front of the car to stop at your side, grasping the handle to pull your door open and offering a hand to help you out.

As your hand laced with his, using it to step out of the car, Nanami glanced behind him, eyes looming over the beautiful mansion he had been dreading the entire car ride over. His breath became staggered once more as he stared that luxurious house down, his brain already preparing itself for the argument-filled evening he figured was coming his way.

It would’ve been an understatement to say that Nanami was not looking forward to hearing your father’s insults tonight. However, an even bigger understatement was to say that Nanami was quite shocked when he was greeted with a warm smile as your father opened the front doors to the mansion.

“Well look who it is. I’m glad you two made it!”

The both of you stood frozen in place, eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before you. There your father was, smiling ear to ear as held the door open for the both of you, his appearance suggesting he was actually happy to see you two.

Nanami quickly glanced down at you in search of answers, hoping maybe you knew what was going on. However, when he inspected your face, he saw a perplexed expression that matched the one spread across his own features; telling him you were just as confused as he was when it came to the sudden shift in your father’s behavior.

“Please, make yourselves at home.” He grinned, motioning for the both of you to step inside.

Make yourselves at home? Nanami had never been welcomed in this home, at least not by your father. So to stand there, and watch the same man who used to curse Kento’s very existence, now act friendly and welcoming towards him, as if the two men were old friends, was truly a sight to behold.

“It’s good to see you dad.” You quickly broke the silence by stepping inside, lacing an arm around your father’s back to give him a gentle hug.

“It’s good to see you too darling.” He responded, his arms wrapping around you as well to return the hug. Your father’s eyes then glanced up at your husband who had just finished walking through the doorway, his lips parting to surprisingly acknowledge the man. “And Kento, my dear boy, it’s good to see you.”

Your husband almost fainted right then and there. This had to be a dream, right? Because there’s no way he was hearing this right now. Maybe there was another man named Kento coming up behind him and that’s who your father was speaking to. That had to be it! Because there was no other explanation that made sense.

However, as your husband subtly looked over his shoulder, he found no one: meaning those words really were directed towards him.

“Oh um,” Namami quickly cleared his throat as he turned back around, “-it’s good to see you too sir.” He stuttered, still feeling awkward and overwhelmed by the whole thing.

After shaking the hand that was held out to him, your father then went on to spell out the itinerary for the rest of the night. “I have to go help your mother real quick, but there’s a bunch of people here to see you two, so please enjoy yourselves. Dinner will be ready in just a little bit.” His smile was wide and bright, his hand lifting in the air to send a friendly wave to the both of you before he walked off, leaving you and your husband silently standing by the front entryway; minds still overflowing with confusion.

“What was that?” You felt your husband’s gentle voice whisper near your ear as he joined you at your side, his arm lacing around your waist in the process.

“I don’t know,” you glanced up at him. “But he did say he wanted to make amends. Maybe that’s what he’s doing?”

Nanami doubted that immensely. He was fully aware that people could change with time, however, even given the amount of time it’s been since their last interaction, he still found it awfully suspicious that your father’s attitude could have changed this much by now.

“Just try to give him a chance okay?”

That was the very last thing your husband wanted to do, although, as he looked down at you, taking in that hopeful expression you were wearing, he knew exactly what you were thinking. You weren’t as skeptical as he was when it came to your father’s recent show of behavior. In fact, the whole thing seemed to bring you some reassurance that tonight might actually turn out the way you’d been praying for. Even though Nanami wasn’t convinced, he didn’t want to demolish that optimism you were clinging to, so he knew he’d have to cooperate.

“Okay, I will.” He forced a smile, retracting his hand from your waist and moving it downwards to entangle your fingers with his.

You flashed him a thankful grin, allowing your head to lean against his arm before your lips separated to speak once more. “I wonder though,” You began, eyes squinting to investigate the rest of the mansion from where you stood near the front door. “Dad said there were people here to see us. But I thought this was just a dinner between the four of us?”

Come to think of it, Nanami did recall your father saying that. I guess his words just hadn’t even registered yet due to the shock you both were in at the surprisingly friendly atmosphere you were greeted with earlier.

Still, now that he thought it over, that might be playing a part in your father’s behavior. With the presence of other people around he would be forced to behave, lest he wanted to risk receiving a bad reputation.

Not that it would probably even affect him that much if he was talked about as being “demeaning” and “harsh.” With full control of one of the largest food companies in the entire country, the man didn’t exactly have to worry about losing his position over something as minimal as being “bad mannered.”

But regardless, rumors and gossip is annoying to have to deal with, so the existence of people other than his family could prove reason enough to be acting as friendly and kind as your father was behaving.

“Maybe he just-” Nanami had begun to speak, however, his words were quickly jerked to a halt when the thunderous sound of a man’s voice suddenly called out your name.

“Hey, Y/n!!”

Both Kento’s head, as well as yours, jerked upwards in unison, eager to identify the voice that had interrupted your private chat.

A quiet gasp immediately escaped your husband’s lips once he caught sight of the voice, instantly recognizing him as the tall and arrogant individual he had always hoped to avoid: Satoru Gojo.

“How are you?! It’s been so long!”

Nanami watched as the bothersome scene took place right before his very eyes. Your hand suddenly released the grip it had around your husband’s fingers and immediately your arms stretched in the air for when the white-haired man would quickly engulf you in a tight hug; his hands seeming to instinctively slick themselves around your waist in a manner that made Nanami’s eyes twitch in annoyance.

The two had never met, but Kento had heard enough stories from you to realize who this man was: the one you practically grew up with due to the fact that your family’s companies were in partnership with each other.

Your husband was fully aware that the two of you were apparently very close to each other, however, he never realized exactly how close until he heard you open your mouth to speak to the man.

“Toru! I didn’t know you were back from America yet. Why didn’t you tell me?” Your face lit up with excitement, a gentle smile adorning your lips as you gazed towards the man’s mesmerizingly cerulean eyes.

Wait “Toru?” So you had a nickname for him too? How long has that been in use?

“I just got back a couple of days ago,” Gojo responded, only just now releasing the grip his arms had previously captivated you in. “I was going to tell you, but your father invited me over so I figured I’d surprise you when you got here instead.” A wide grin spread across the man’s face as he kindly glanced down at you, his eyes looming with a sense of familiarity that made your husband’s hands irritably tighten into fists.

“Well, you certainly did.” You laughed playfully, witnessing the way Gojo’s eyes peered behind you to glance at your husband, the one you left awkwardly standing near the front door.

“And you must be the handsome Kento I’ve heard so much about,” Gojo made his way over to Nanami, holding his hand out in order to formally greet him for the first time.

Your husband did his best to hide the scowl manifesting across his face since he knew you were looking, but gosh it was hard when this man was already getting on Nanami’s last nerve.

What’s with that smirk plastered across his face? Was he mocking him? What about the handshake, what was that supposed to mean? Was he trying to be rude? Or had the man just been in America too long that he was just used to that by now?

It had only been a couple of minutes since meeting him, even less time actually interacting with him, but even so, Satoru Gojo was proving himself to be a pain in the rear; well, to Nanami at least.

Still, as much as Nanami wished he could grab your hand and yank you both out that front door, he knew there was no way out of this: meaning he’d have to actually acknowledge the white-haired man he always dreaded having to meet. So, after a quick clear of his throat, your husband finally obliged and stuck his hand out, uttering a simple sentence in the process.

“Just call me Mr. Nanami please.”

If you want to see what the mansion in this episode looks like then click here🤗

✴️HELLO GUYS, I apologize for being so inactive lately! I’ve just been EXTREMELY BUSY. School has been honestly so mentally draining right now, to the point where I wasn’t even getting much sleep. So because of this, I was way too stressed out to even be able to write anything. However, while it’s still difficult, I’m doing better now, and was able to FINALLY come out with chapter three of this series! SO PLEASE ENJOY!✴️

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