#i didn't include this in the post but if you'd like and are comfortable enough to do so please share your Esparza journey

[yanderefarm]

yandere pornstar

cw; choking, p in v, heterosexuals, nsft, murder, violence against women, dub con, dark content

ive had this one sitting in production for a minute but it's one of the darker ones in my opinion. i think he's so interesting and so fucked in the head. his yandere isn't as explicit in this but that's kinda on purpose. he's obsessed with you but he's good at hiding it especially because he's definitely also battling some internalized homophobia. like he will not examine how badly he wants to be your girlfriend no sir he'll just ask you uncomfortable questions and date women who he thinks are your type. and even then it doesn't matter if you don't like women because he'll just date women who remind him of you.

you live in a nice modern style house. the kind of house you'd usually find belonging to a billionaire who thinks having natural light is a personality trait. never in a million years would you be able to afford this place but a few months ago you'd found this guy looking for a roommate. the rent was dirt cheap, like the kind of dirt cheap that meant this was probably a scam. honestly, even after 3 months living there you were waiting for the rug to get pulled out from under you but as far as you could tell it was real and your roommate was just a nice guy. 

he was a large guy, his chest was broad and he was extremely tall. he was pretty hot too, he had piercings and tattoos and he was always wearing tight obscure rock shirts or horror shirts. personality wise he was a bit of a loud obnoxious guy, he could act like a real frat bro but he was nice? nice enough. the only real quirk about being his roommate was the part about sex. apparently your roommate was in porn and would often record videos in his house. it was like living with a frat bro in effect, he'd have big networking parties and sometimes that turned into big networking orgies. sometimes you would come home to see him and a young woman half naked surrounded by a camera crew. it was weird. but rent was cheap and your room had good noise insulation so you adapted. 

sometimes you would wake up in the morning and go to the kitchen only to find a random woman with messy makeup sitting there checking her phone. the first time it happened you offered to make her some pancakes and she appreciated the gesture. it was an odd morning routine but it was kind of nice making pancakes for your roommate and whatever girl he'd spent the night with so it became the norm. all in all living in this place was odd but comfortable, all it took was getting used to it. you even got used to your roommate's weird personal questions, the way he'd ask you about what kind of porn you liked or what kind of people you were into. it was awkward but you got used to it as just part of his personality.

eventually you started noticing the same girl at the kitchen table over and over again only with progressively more bruises and cuts on her. it's not really your place but you can't help but ask her if she's ok.

"oh! yeah don't worry it's from work."

"what kind of work do you do?"

"wanna see?"

she shows you her only fans account including her most recent post, a scene where she's in a familiar looking room with a masked man choking her out while they have sex. that's definitely your roommate in the video, it was definitely filmed in his room. your body couldn't help but react to the stimulation and you awkwardly excused yourself to eat breakfast. she didn't mind, in fact she said it was a compliment so atleast she was cool about it. still embarrassing.

it doesn't help that at some point she clearly told your roommate who's embarrassing personal questions start to shift. are you into choking? receiving or giving? do you think his girlfriend is hot? is she your type? you have to stop him from showing you more of their videos together because he's just way too eager.

in the end you do shamefully subscribe to her only fans. she's pretty for sure but you're more interested in your roommate and the scenarios they act out. she makes a lot of dark content; things like a kidnapper using her for his own entertainment and threatening to send the video to her parents, or a drunk friend breaking into her room, or a serial killer having fun with her before he kills her. in her older stuff before she started working with your roommate the guys who would bust into her room didn't have the right body type or demeanor to sell it. some of them acted like the cringiest internet doms. for some reason your roommate was so good at it.

you watched his arm flex around her throat while he held her in a headlock, her body bouncing on his lap while he looked at the camera. part of you wondered how good he'd look if he was in her position instead, his big muscles and large dick completely useless as his kidnapper made his eyes roll back. you really shouldn't have those thoughts about your roommate, you know that, but you can't stop fucking your fist to the thought of him. he's straight, nothing will ever come of it.

for the sake of your cheap rent and comfortable room you just pushed your feelings down only letting them out late at night into a bunch of tissues. that's until you come home one night to the living room dark and a tripod set up in front of the couch. that's not such an unusual sight, its not even the first time you've walked in on your roommate in the middle of work. it is the first time you've caught him actually balls deep in someone. he doesn't even take his hands off his throat when he looks at you with a stupid smile.

"hey, welcome home."

you were trying so hard to look anywhere else. "sorry.. uh im-im gonna-"

"oh! hey, babes!" his girlfriend was also smiling at you now.

you were hard. why were you hard. why did he notice that you were hard. you watched his eyes flick from your hard on to your face and back again a wide smile cracking across his face.

"yo, you like what you see? wanna take a ride?"

you don't know how they both actually convinced you to do this, maybe you were hornier than you realized. your roommates large rough hands were stroking your heavy cock while his girlfriend was on her knees in front of you her tongue stuck out to catch every drop of precum. you leaned your head back against his shoulder and moaned as he squeezed your tip. you looked at him for a moment, your face flushing red as he gave you a confident smirk. his girlfriend wrapped her lips around your tip and began licking and sucking trying to drain you of every drop while your roommates hands squeezed your cock so firmly it felt like he was trying to push your cum out. you moaned louder this time, one of your hands gripping onto his forearms to steady yourself.

"baby, you should give him a nice reward for all his donations."

oh god he knew. of course he knew. his girlfriend pulled her mouth off your cock with a wet pop and moved onto her back. your roommate guided you onto your knees in front of her, his breath heavy in your ears.

"you ever do this before buddy?"

all you could do was shake your head, most people probably have never been in this scenario before either.

"gonna make you feel so good. gonna fuck her real nice."

he guided your large cock along her folds, rubbing it against her clit and soaking you in her juices. you watched as he pressed your tip against her hole and pushed it in drawing a loud moan from her. she was definitely a pornstar the way she reacted and played up your cock filling her, moans and arching her back and tightening her cunt. it felt good but you soon came to miss the feeling of your roommate's hands squeezing you as they instead moved to help guide your hips. he kept you at a fast pace until you were the one maintaining it yourself, hips drilling into her as hard and fast as you could.

"why haven't you cum yet? you like it don't you?" he grunted in annoyance. "here let's tighten her up, huh?"

he moved his hands over your own and wrapped them around her neck. it took you a moment to notice and you immediately tried to squirm and pull away.

"you know how much she likes it"

"mmmhmmm~ c'mon babes.. make me see stars..."

his hands squeezed around your own forcing you to choke her as your hips began to slow down a bit. you didn't know what you were doing, this seemed incredibly unsafe but his hands were stronger than yours. her pussy squeezed around you but the stimulation wasn't enough to keep you hard as your panic was more overwhelming. your hips stopped entirely when her face started to get red.

"stop! pl-please i want to stop!"

"i'll stop when she makes you cum."

you knew that wasn't going to happen but you didn't know what else to do. your hips picked up a frantic desperate pace as you tried so hard to feel good. there were tears splashing onto her reddening face as you began to cry and babble your apologies as best you could.

her eyes started to roll back and you still hadn't gotten any closer to cumming so with an annoyed huff your roommate pulled your hands off of her. she sucked in a gasp of air her entire body heaving as she could finally breathed. your roommate moved away from you letting you pull out and you crawled over away from them, sobbing.

"tch... guess you didn't like her that much huh?"

you couldn't speak just whimpering and rubbing your hands.

"poor guy..."

he easily lifted you in his arms and carried you to your bed. you thought he said something else but you didn't catch it as your body started to relax. you managed a small thank you before his figure disappeared.

you expected it to just be a weird story and an awkward breakfast but she never came to sit in the kitchen. you had finished making all the pancakes when the front door opened and your roommate walked in looking dour. he stopped when he looked at you, looking away from you then back.

he took a deep breath. "... she's dead."

your eyes widened and you felt your stomach churn.

"last night i brought her back to my room but she wasn't feeling well and i thought she was just tired... when i woke up she wasn't breathing."

you covered your mouth with your hand as tears flooded your vision. you moved to get your phone when your roommate grabbed your hand tight enough to hurt.

"you get it right? you killed her." you were forced to drop your phone which cracked on the tile. "i hid the body, made sure no one will ever know. I'm willing to help you cause you're my friend but you gotta be good."

you couldn't speak all you could do was slowly nod.

"thats a good boy."

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You

Pairing -> ninth member!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~3,300 words Includes -> hurt/comfort, angst, enemies to lovers, hyunjin's a meanie, reader has anxiety, minho struggles with his feelings, cringy nickname use, yelling, swearing Summary -> The rest of the group members are over the silly rivalry between you and Minho. They decide to take matters into their own hands. However, their little game takes a turn for the worse when one of the members betrays your trust. Some may call it destiny…the way it leads you straight into the arms of the one you would never expect. Author's Note -> This is my first time posting on here, so hopefully this isn't too rough. Also, I swear I don’t hate Hyunjin. I love him to death. It was just necessary for the plot… anywaysss hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

“I swear to God if you guys don’t open this door right now!” You yell as you pound on the hotel room down the hall from yours. There hasn’t been a reply, but you know that Hyunjin and Felix are in there. The two of them are always locked in their hotel rooms the night before your shows. They try to get as much sleep as possible for the next day.

‘They are definitely laughing their asses off right now,’ you think to yourself. It was just a stupid prank to them. Something to get you and Minho to finally get along again, but they just don’t get it. You had tried for so long to make it work, but Minho was just too stubborn. For heaven’s sake, you guys used to be the best of friends. One day he just started being cruel. Ignoring your texts, saying snarky things under his breath, scoffing every time you accidentally messed a move up. It escalated to the point where you no longer talk anymore. Truly, it is not your fault and they don’t seem to get it. He refuses to say anything about what happened, completely disregarding the fact that you were ever close enough to share your deepest secrets.

You turn around to leave, realizing the two boys were probably never going to open the door. You hear the lock click and spin back to see the annoyingly beautiful face of Felix. Although he wasn’t outright laughing at you, he was putting little effort in trying to hide his smile.

“Hey, what are you so upset for? I didn’t notice anything wrong on the bus earlier?” Felix asks. You just stare back dumbfounded.

“Why the fuck would you ever put me in a room with him?” you spit pushing past Felix into his room, “Don’t you dare look at me like that, you know how he treats me.”

Hyunjin just looks at you from his spot on a queen bed closest to the window. He looks shocked, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually put up a fight against the sleeping arrangements.

"How is that our fault?" Hyunjin questions. He seems like he may be genuinely asking, but you know him better than that. You have always been closer to him than the other members, especially after all the things that went down with Minho. Hyunjin was always the one to comfort you. The first to step up when your anxiety got to be too much. So, it was obvious that the members did have something to do with it, and it wasn't just an unfortunate fluke.

"I saw the way you guys all ran to claim your rooms while I was still collecting my suitcase. Don't act stupid. I know you know what's going on," you say back in hopes to get him to at least explain what their plan was. Maybe you could reason with them and get one of the boys to switch. Heck, you'd even be willing to sleep on the couch in Hyunjin and Felix's room, but it's starting to seem like they don't even want you in their room in the first place.

You hear Felix close the door behind you, but it's all blocked out as you watch Hyunjin roll his eyes at you. While this may seem like a typical Hyunjin action, it just didn't feel right. He tries to be more gentle with you than the other boys. After confiding many of your secrets and insecurities in him, he knows to control his face around you. Yet, it's beginning to look like he's forgotten all about that tonight.

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one..." he mumbles under his breath. With every sentence exchanged, the tension in the room grows thicker. You almost feel bad putting the other poor boy in the room through this. You can practically feel him stiffen with every word spoken.

"Hyunjin-" Felix starts but is cut off by a sharp look from the man himself. You know it's starting to go too far if Felix is getting upset, but Hyunjin doesn't seem to care.

"Why are you so angry right now?" you ask him, praying the question doesn't fire him up more. Maybe he's just having a really bad day, or maybe he just wants to be alone and can't deal with your problems.

"I'm not angry," he starts, "you're just making a big deal out of absolutely nothing." By the end of it he begins to raise his voice, another thing he knows you aren't a fan of. You take a step back, a little confused at his ignorance. He's been with you through all the fights, why doesn't he understand how big of a deal this is to you?

As you're still trying to make sense of his previous statement, his voice quiets down, and he looks back down at his phone as he whispers, "Just like you always do."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you ask, scared for the response. He glances up sharply, making true eye contact for the first time tonight.

"You're always crying over stupid shit, and I really can't handle it anymore,” he states angrily, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. He finally breaks eye contact, and the tension explodes, painting the whole room red.

As dramatic as it sounds, it's like a knife to your heart, or perhaps more accurately a stab in the back. You know exactly what he means by that. It's like he was aiming for your most sensitive spots. With your anxiety, you tend to panic over things that don't usually matter much in other people's minds. Every time you have an anxiety attack or are just freaking out about something, you usually try to hide it. You worry that your friends won't take you seriously or will make fun of you over something they consider 'not a big deal'. You've confided in Hyunjin over this topic before. He's helping you get over that and come to them when you need help. So why is he now turning on you? Was it all an act before?

You feel your eyes start to tear up, but you hold them back. He cannot see you cry.

"Fuck you," you say, attempting to put venom behind it, but all that comes out is your shaky voice.

"Y/n, wait," Felix says sympathetically as you go to leave the room. Normally, you would stop and let Felix comfort you, but suddenly everything is feeling just a little too heavy and you can't seem to look him in the eye any longer. You stride out of the room, keeping your shoulders straight without even glancing back. You just need to stay strong until you make it into the hallway. You slam the door behind you despite typically being the one to argue when the other members to it. Your eyes are blurring too fast at this point to even recognize the fact that you probably should've shut it a bit quieter. It is a hotel and noise complaints are a thing, but, honestly, that is the least of your worries at the moment. You just keep replaying back the fight in your head trying to figure out what you did wrong. It had to be something, right?

You start down the hallway, cursing when you realize your room is at the other end of the hall. You hope the other boys can't hear your sobs, especially the two you just departed from. As much as you want to be comforted, it feels like you're past the point of no return and just want to be alone. You try to stifle your cries a bit with your hand, but it doesn't do much. You're heads getting a little too light, you're breathing getting harder to control. Your hands are shaking, and it seems like the crying is just starting. Some may call you sensitive, but when the tears start you simply begin to spiral. There's very little that can calm you down at that point. Hyunjin usually has to take you somewhere and help you take deep breaths especially before your concerts. But he's the one who started this mess. So, what are you supposed to do now?

You finally make it to your hotel room, barely being able to read the numbers, and you start to dig around in your pockets. You start to panic as you struggle to find your key card, but eventually you grasp the small rectangular piece of plastic and open the door.

Once inside, you shut the door, a bit calmer this time, and fall back against it. The only thing on your mind being the fact that you are finally in your own room, alone. You put your hands over your face, trying to quiet some of your senses. In the haste to get out of the situation, you completely failed to remember the problem that had started it all.

Minho is sitting in one of the beds; he had plenty of time to choose considering you just dropped your suitcase off and stormed off upon realizing the two of you would be rooming together. He's all cozy in his sweat pants and t-shirt, obviously thankful for your abrupt disappearance. He looks up, shocked to see you re-entering the room. He plans to make a jab of some sort, but immediately pauses upon seeing your state. It seems like you haven't even noticed that he's in there yet. He's never really seen you like this before, or at least not since he started pushing you away. Putting that aside, he accepts defeat realizing that you need someone. You need him.

Your eyes are covered as you cry quietly into your hands, pushing your head back into the wood behind you. You flinch slightly upon feeling strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you away from the hard door. However, you soon relax into the arms, enjoying the feeling of safety flood your system. The man is warm and gentle as he presses you against him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

"Follow my breathing," he whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps from your head to your toes. You try to listen to him, but all of your senses are so overwhelmed that you can't seem to focus on anything. Feeling like a fool, you begin to cry harder, immediately sending you back to the fight with Hyunjin.

"Honey," he starts, "you just have to take a deep breath. I don't want you to pass out on me." Hearing the quiet voice in your ear helps bring your mind back to the present. Trying to focus on the instructions, you begin to notice the chest rising and falling slowly against yours. You can even feel the man's calm heart beat against your racing one.

Following the normally simple order, you try to take a deeper inhale resulting in a few hiccups and more tears. One of the arms around your shoulder falls and his hand begins to rub your back gently. As you focus on the sensation, your breathing starts to even out, just as Minho had hoped.

Once you are in a slightly better state, he moves you over to the bed. Setting you down on the edge, he kneels in front of you and softly pulls your hands away from your face. You instinctively bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep from facing the man in front of you.

Minho reaches his hand out, bringing your face back up towards his. You slowly open your eyes at the gentle touch. He's looking right back at you, a soft expression covering his face. He hasn't looked at you like that in years. He practically lights up when your eyes meet his.

A smile grows on his face, as he quietly says, "There you go, kitten." Your face flushes at the nickname, and you hear Minho giggle softly at your blushing cheeks. He used to call you that all the time. A fan had once greeted the two of you at a fan meet saying how you both had the same energy as cats. So from that day on, he had called you that nickname constantly, earning well-deserved teasing from the other boys. Yet, it had all stopped out of nowhere.

'He doesn't care about you anymore,' you remind yourself. You pull away from him roughly and stand up from the bed. You take a few steps away from him, the comfort you had felt being ripped away in seconds. This was too confusing. He can't ignore you for years and suddenly act normal. That isn't how this works.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask him, just wanting some sort of explanation. He slowly stands up, his soft look from before transforming into a look of pure regret.

"What are you talking about? You're upset and I care about you," he calmly explains, obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. But you can see it in his eyes; the nerves, the regret, and the sadness painting itself across his irises.

"You hate me,” you say, leaving no room for discussion. You were sick of being left in the dark and being turned on. You just want to know, what happened?

"You don't really believe that do you?" he asks as his body language changes. He reaches a hand up, pulling a little too roughly against his hair as he looks down at the ground.

"I mean-" you start to say but are cut off by a small sniffle coming from across you.

The culprit looks up at you again, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Minho never cries. It's just one of those things. So he wipes them away and says the last words you would ever imagine him speaking to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers genuinely, "I never meant to make you feel that way, but I guess that's what it's come to, hasn't it?"

You stand stiffly, staring at him. You had never seen the man look so defeated. You are even more confused about where the two of you stand than you have ever been.

"But I don't get it, you're just so mean. I don't know how you couldn't hate me."

"I could never hate you,” he states staring at you. His eyes are so deep that you can see exactly what he's feeling, and you realize, this is it. He's an open book. This may be the one time you get to see under the surface of Lee Minho since those days of friendship all those years ago.

"Then why did you push me away?" you ask, taking advantage of his state.

"I was just so scared. I thought you would hate me if you found out..." he trails off. You simply wait for him to finish his sentence, but he never does. He just looks back at you in hopes that you understand what he's trying to say. A silence builds, and Minho takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I love you and I was just too scared in case it would ruin the group," he says, finally letting the truth escape after years of secrets. The shock of the statement leaves you speechless, simply staring at your old best friend.

After a few seconds of building tension, you can’t help but start to giggle, leading to near hysterics with more tears springing to your eyes. You had thought you had cried all of them out, but it looks like you were wrong. There's no way that's the reason. If only he had been honest with his feelings, then you would've never been in this situation in the first place.

He looks surprised at your laughing, and his whole body seems to deflate.

'Hopefully he doesn't think I'm laughing at him', you think. There's no way they had messed up communication that bad to let it get to this point.

"You should have said that, Minho. I was so in love with you," you state gently, trying not to bewilder the poor man. He looks up, and there's pure excitement on his face. It's beautiful to see compared to his earlier expressions, and you're reminded of all those little reasons you love him. All those reasons that have been buried down due to his obliviousness.

"Really?" he says, taking a step closer to you. Your cheeks heat up upon realizing that you really did just reveal one of your darkest secrets.

He takes another step closer, his face now only inches from yours. You feel his arms wrap sweetly around your waist. You glance down at his lips; they're slightly chapped, but honestly, it's just all part of what makes Minho, Minho. Your eyes go back up to meet his, and you can see the tension and nerves drawn upon his face. You quickly close the distance, making the decision you should have made all those years ago.

Minho doesn't pull away, instead immediately melting into the kiss, bringing one hand up to delicately cup your cheek. This may be one of the softest moments you have ever witnessed from Minho, and man do you want more.

You don't kiss for long, it's short and sweet, but it means so much more. Within it is everything you had wished you could've said to each other since the beginning.

You both pull back, a laugh leaving both of your mouths as you take in how outrageous the situation is. He pulls you close again, his head falling on your shoulder.

"I promise, I will never ever treat you like that again. You mean so much to me," he whispers. You bring a hand up to pet the back of his hair, pulling back just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The two of you eventually pull away as your eyelids begin to droop. You realize how late it has gotten, neither of you noticing with all the drama that has unfolded. You quickly change into your pajamas and get ready to go to sleep.

You end up in the same bed with your head lying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair. Despite how sleepy you both feel, you know there is so much more to talk about and neither of you will be able to fall asleep.

Minho breaks the silence, asking you the dreaded question, "So, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Hyunjin and I fought. He said some very hurtful things." I reply sadly, the memories of the fight resurfacing.

"You two are so close, I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how upset he gets when we’re on tour for so long. He gets aggravated having to be around us all the time, but it was still messed up for him to be so mean to you."

You laugh at his response, "Yeah, like you can talk."

"Hey!" he says dramatically. You both giggle, and despite the tough topic, the tension seems to melt away. It always used to be that way with Minho. It's as if the two of you were made for each other. Everything just felt so much better and easier around him. Suddenly, everything in life was a lot sweeter.

"But seriously, don't worry about it too much, kitten. Felix will take care of it, and Hyunjinnie will be running back to you by the morning."

Part 2 out now!

[wosoragebaiter69]

you are broken on the floor

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

overview: goalkeeping means sacrificing your body, how far would you go?

A/N: i feel rlly sad so i got the discord to come up with ideas (thanks @totaly-obsessed + @alotofpockets)

TW: Blood, Severe Injury, Brutal Angst

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

Ever since a child, you loved the feeling of saving footballs. If any of the teams you were on needed someone in goals you'd be the first the volunteer, along the way you actually got good at it and eventually signed with Barcelona in 2021, making good friends along the way.

Along with joining Barça, it came with getting a girlfriend. Who was the best person you'd ever had in your life romantically.

Being a keeper in the best club would always mean injuries, trying to keep a clean sheet like any defensive player wants.

Sometimes though, injuries are worse. Life threatening in some cases, career ending in others. It's something no player even wishes upon their most rivalled team.

You just had to be unlucky didn't you?

Barcelona were comfortably winning against Frankfurt 3-0, when a gap in defense allows a German player to make their strike. You fall back onto the line hoping the punch the ball away.

Seems like life has other plans.

The player shoots left, you dive left and push the ball away. However with being airborne, you can’t stop. Your body crashes into the post with a loud thud.

The stadium goes quiet, your screams and cries horrific. Your body looks… wrong.

Your collarbone isn’t straight, it’s indescribable. Bones are poking out. There’s blood running down your face where your head has cracked open after hitting the post.

It’s sickening to watch.

Players immediately rush over, forming a circle around you as to not show a fellow player in such vulnerable state.

Alexia is by your side trying to comfort you, trying to keep you still. Seeing you in this much pain makes her heart ache. If she could take it all, she would.

Paramedics are by your side instantly as the circle of players back up to give them space to work, Alexia sits helplessly watching you worm in pain.

After quick testing to make sure you were still alive and conscious, they get you on the stretcher. Which includes more screaming, and more pain.

Alexia watches as you get taken off the field in a hurry, fans of both teams clap and give you a standing ovation.

“Alexia, she’s strong. Let’s finish and win this game for her yeah?” Mapi pats her best friends back, also devastated at the turn on events.

“Ye- yeah.” The captains broken voice says.

- - - - -

As the rest of the minutes in the game are being played, you’re fighting for your life in the back of an ambulance.

The pain getting unbearable, you find yourself slowly slipping in and out of consciousness. Paramedics are doing things around you, but your eyes are too glossy to really tell. Your mind is also too fuzzy to think straight.

There is one thing you want, Ale. But, with everything? You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve ruined some of your vocal cords from screaming so loud.

Soon enough, you succumb to the darkness. Letting it engulf you to a place less ridden in pain and chaos.

- - - - -

The game is over, an unspoken heaviness in the air surrounding both teams. There is little interaction with fans, whom luckily understand the pain the players must be feeling at the time.

Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid get in the Norwegian’s car and drive straight to the hospital where the medical team said you were going to.

When arriving, Ingrid drops Alexia and Mapi before parking, understanding they need each other. You were important to everyone, but Mapi was like your sister and Ale was obviously your girlfriend.

They rush inside, talking quickly to the nurse at reception who gives them sorry smiles, updating them all that she could. Which was that you were alive and in emergency surgery.

They don’t argue, it’s pointless. So they sit down on uncomfortable plastic chairs, playing a waiting game until you were coherent and safe.

- - - - -

4 hours and many freak out sessions later, a doctor walks over to the three girls explaining the situation you’re in.

“It’s a grade 2 concussion to her head, in cases like these there is chance for memory loss. I believe she has all her memory, we were talking about different things before I came here. It’s a high possibility that she has no memories from the accident though.” He pauses before continuing.

“She experienced a dislocated collarbone. We’ve put it back in its original place, recovery could take 1 year and she might never be to the level she was at currently again. We had to do work on surrounding ligaments which makes the recovery time longer.” The girls take in the information.

“Have you told her she won’t play for a while?” Ingrid asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“I did, she was upset in her own right. If that is all your questions, she has her own room. I believe you all know concussion protocol?” They nod.

“Ok, room 3146. If you need anything at all just shout.”

“Gracias, for everything you’ve done.” The doctor smiles at Alexia.

“No problem.”

- - - - -

When reaching the room, the 3 Barça players see your state, a gauze wrapped around your head and a large cast across your torso, restricting movement.

“Amor?” Alexia asks cautiously.

“Hi Ale.” You look at the other two. “Mapi, Ingrid, nice to see you.”

Alexia sits by the chair on the side of your bed, looking up with teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t ever do that again.” She sobs, cradling your face softly. “I can’t- I can’t lose you.”

“Ale, you’ve got me. I’m right here, please don’t cry amor. Por favor.” You look over to the other two in the room, smiling softly.

She takes a couple minutes to settle down and finally talk.

“Have you heard about your recovery?”

“Sí” You watch her sigh, tracing patterns over your hand.

“Lo siento, but I’ll be with you the whole way ok? I promise.” She says without an inch of hesitation in her voice.

“Te amo mucho Ale. That means so much more than you could ever know.” She responds by leaving a lingering kiss against your hand.

“I’m glad you’re ok. Had as all worried.” Ingrid smiles lightly.

“Yeah.. I don’t remember much about what happened. I might later on but for now I’m content without the memories.” She laughs.

“Well, all of the culers and people at Barça wish you a safe and great recovery. Even if the doctor hasn’t said it, you’ll come back stronger I know it.”

“Thanks Maps, I think I stay in the hospital for a few more days then I’m clear to go home. I have to wear this for like 6 weeks then start the strengthening physio whatever.”

“Ah, can’t wait to see you on the pitch again then amiga. Well, Ingrid and I will leave you and Ale to talk on your own. If you ever need funny company instead of serious company I am always here.” You hold onto your laugh smirking.

“Alright León, keep it moving.” You joke back and watch the couple leave.

You think back to what recovery is going to be like. A very long journey. It seems your girlfriend notices your thoughts.

“Shh, you’ll be fine and as Mapi said you’ll come back better.”

“Thanks Ale.” She leans over and presses a kiss to your lips softly.

- - - - -

The next few weeks are tough, you feel as though you’re useless. Alexia has all this stuff on her plate already and you’re just another one. However she is always quick to shut those thoughts down. No matter how moody, or how angry you got at her. She stayed, just like she promised she would.

Who knows what the future holds, maybe something, maybe nothing. What does matter though? Is who you go there with. For you it’s Ale. It will always be Alexia.

—————————————————————————

PART 2 - here

also i did say i was sick now i’m feeling better.. physically (not mentally since i just wrote this fic)

[delopsia]

honey | bob floyd x reader

Word Count: 13,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Succubus!Reader, Virgin!Bob. Shapeshifting, elements of magic, blood, parties, first-time blow jobs, cunnilingus, first-time sex, virginity loss, vague plot twists despite the severe lack of an actual plot. This was a crack warmup that just became...this Brief Summary: "Rich, hot, and a virgin. What's wrong with you?" Or, Bob's coworkers jokingly summon you, a succubus, to take his virginity, but everyone gets a lot more than they bargained for. You included.

Well...

This is new.

"It wasn't me! I promise!" 

"Well, someone drew my symbol on the floor." Folding your arms in front of your chest, huffing. All that for this?

"It wasn't—" He freezes, teeth flashing through an awkwardly stretched smile. "I...my coworkers were playing a prank on me."

Lovely that you learn that after you've planted your ass in his lap. "So you don't want me here, pretty boy?"

Because he is cute. Floppy brown hair and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen, hidden behind a pair of wireframes that perch on his freckled nose. His partner must be an incredibly happy person, having someone like this walking around their house. 

"N-no!" He blurts. His face falls. "—wait! Well-well, I...uh, I...I don't wanna be rude, but I mean I-I..." Your index finger presses against his thin lips, silencing whatever he had left to say. If history is anything to go off of, you wouldn't have been able to understand what he's trying to tell you anyway.

But...well, you are stuck here, so you'd might as well ask. "What's your name?" 

"Ro-Ro..." A short pink tongue darts out, wetting his lips. "Robert." 

"Well, Bobby," you can't help but say it, a little too eager to watch the blush in his cheeks deepen. "It's a shame that you didn't. You're pretty cute."

Even in the dark, you can see how his face reddens, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his words. 

"But! I'll be on my way," lifting yourself from his lap before you can become too comfortable there. Something bumps into your ass; you think that may have been his cheek. "Do me a favor and tell your partner that they're a very lucky person, would ya?"

"Partner?" Squeaking.

Your feet freeze. There's no way he's... "Don't tell me you're single."

But Bob nods his head like it's the simplest confession he's ever made. "That's half of the reason why they went through the trouble of making you come here." He pauses, his left eye twitching as a thought visibly crosses his mind. Whatever it is, it's got him looking away from you entirely. "Said I'm...said I'm too old to be a—" 

"Wait, wait, wait." Holding your hands up. Need a moment of silence to understand what the hell you're hearing. "Your coworkers summoned a succubus to take your virginity?"

His lips flatten into a line. "...yeah."

"Well, that's shitty!" That's a new one. Finally, something to top the time a sorority summoned you to party with them for...some reason. Bragging rights, you think. "Do they pay you enough to put up with those assholes?"

It's been a minute since you've run into someone so nonchalant about a demonic creature standing in the room with them, never mind hold a casual conversation with you. 

But here Bob is, shrugging his shoulders like this happens to him every Tuesday. "You learn to deal with it when you're paid a hundred sixty-thousand a year."

"So you're a rich virgin." It shoots out of your mouth before you realize the thought crossed your mind.

Again, Bob is too calm about this. "I...guess?"

"Rich, hot, and a virgin." Modifying your statement. "What's wrong with you?"

Those blue eyes widen. Blinking rapidly. "Huh?"

"Well, there's gotta be a reason why you don't have a line of people out the door." You say, crouching back down in front of him. Sure wish he'd let you do something about that tent in his pajama pants. "If it's not the looks that reel the ladies in, it's the charm, and if it's not the charm, it's the money. And you've got all three, pretty boy."

It's not supposed to be a serious topic, not as if you're about to go and write an article about his non-existent sex life to publish in the weekly paper. But this guy is actually thinking about it. His brows furrowing as he mulls over his thoughts, mouth parting, only to fall closed once more. 

"I think it has something to do with the nature of my job and my severe inability to start a conversation," he concludes, with a little nod of his head. 

You wonder if you could put him in your pocket and take him home.

Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you're standing on some a ship right now. Is he some kind of cruise captain? "That'll do it." 

Bob doesn't have anything else to say about that, awkwardly closing his legs before you can get another look at what he might be packing under there. Whether or not he caught you staring or he's just become aware of his current state, you're not sure. It's such a shame that someone else summoned you on his behalf; he would have been a fun one to toy with.

Hm.

"Do you wanna fuck with your coworkers before I leave?"

He blinks at you. Not a thought behind those eyes. "Huh?"

"Well, you've already got me here," an excited lilt in your voice, maybe a bit too eager to present your totally thought-out idea. "Believe it or not, I double as a poltergeist on Tuesdays and Thursdays." 

Or whenever you feel like, really. 

"That would be mean," shaking his head. What is he, some kind of saint? 

"They just summoned a demon to fuck you in a locked room," deadpan. 

For a moment, it's quiet, and then.

"...that's a fair point."

As it turns out, Bob lives on the world's shittiest cruise ship. A ship without a pool, a dimly lit cafeteria without a single Michelin-trained chef in sight. Long, narrow, colorless hallways. There aren't even individual rooms, just even smaller hallways stacked high with bunk beds. On the thinnest mattress you've ever seen, might you add. 

Worst of all, rather than allowing personal clothes, everyone is dressed in clothing provided by the ship. Whoever picked the color schemes needs to be introduced to a fucking color wheel. 

How do you trick the head of the United States Navy into summoning you? You have a few choice words about this place. 

You appear in the mirror first. A little flash of your face, and then you're gone, nothing but a figment of the imagination. Again, later in the night, those two coworkers of Bobs have convinced themselves that they had made it up. 

The plan was to end it there and to come back in the morning to turn it up a notch, but there's a chair sitting in the bunk room that's just so comfortable. So what if you lounge there all night, poking through a book Bob had on the foot of his bed? The room just dark enough to allow them to see your vague silhouette, air so quiet that every turn of the page seems to echo.

Not one of them sleeps, but Bob does, snoring away in his bottom bunk. He sounds like a little cat, tiny little noises that sound closer to grumbles than snores.

When morning comes, you show up in their showers right as they turn around. You appear on opposite ends of crowded rooms and in high-stakes meetings with fancy-dressed higher-ups just to get a reaction. Tapping on their shoulders when they think they're alone. Somehow, you managed to get away with swapping the labels on the mustard and hot mustard. Effectively ruined several breakfasts in one fell swoop.

One, this loud-mouthed blonde you forgot the name of, wakes up to you sitting on his chest. Who would have thought that he had such a shrill scream?

But you might take it too far when you chase them down the narrow hallway—five grown adults shrieking like they're in a haunted scream park and not a Navy ship. 

Or at least, you thought you did. 

"I can't-I can't believe you just—!" Bob's laughing into his palms, keeling over with it. His mouth is moving, but he can't get anything out. Bubbly, loud giggles that travel around the tiny little fan room, bouncing off every corner. 

"And here you said it would be too mean," gently mocking, unable to fight off the smile that works its way across your face. So big you can hardly speak through it. 

That should technically be the last of your encounters. 

You should be heading back through your portal and off on another job, but Bob doesn't utter the proper incantations to make that happen. He starts to, but then you ask about his book, and he squeaks at you for spoiling the ending, and then you begin to second guess if you're recalling it correctly.

Then the conversation starts, and suddenly, you've been bound to him for three weeks. 

If it were anyone else, you'd complain and force the portal to open by yourself. There's more than one way to break the spell and go back to where you came from, but there's something about Bob Floyd that keeps you lingering. Maybe it's the way he blushes when you get too close. Maybe it's because you can't remember a time when someone kept you around solely because they liked talking to you.

Maybe it's because he has a fantastic taste in literature. Anything he's reading somehow becomes glued to your hands, unable to be put down until you've reached the final page.

"I can't believe nobody has gotten bold enough to comment on the strange figure reading a book in the corner every night," you giggle, nothing but a misty haze hovering over his head. 

His lips curl into a smile, toothpaste spilling over as he fights not to bite his toothbrush. "I think they're afraid of another hallway incident."

"Are you afraid of another hallway incident?" Appearing in the mirror, if only to get your message across.

"Nah." 

If you had known that the Admiral would be the final person you would get to scare before Bob left the ship, then you probably would have gone all out on it. But at the moment, all you're thinking about is how unfair and rude it was to pin Bob for the mistakes that his pilot made up in the air. The guy can't even fly a jet. How is it his fault that the pilot confused their lefts and rights?

So you show up in the mirror, jump on him, and spiral about the room in a foggy haze before rustling down the hallway in such a storm that it creates a draft. There seems to be a growing trend with men having high-pitched screams on this boat.

If Bob ever catches wind of the incident, he never brings it up.

Hell, maybe he thinks he's left you behind because he sure is surprised to turn around and find you sitting on his kitchen counter one morning.

"Did ya forget about me?"

"Please." Clenching at his heart. "Knock first."

Wordless, you tap your knuckles against the cool marble. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

Those pretty blue eyes roll, their color a little more vivid now that he's wearing that deep blue button-down, the sleeves pulled back just enough to reveal the thick muscle of his forearms. They're still swollen from his workout; you wonder if he knows you were watching.

"Got a hot date tonight?" Kicking your foot at him, brushing against his slacks. The last thing you're expecting is for his hand to wrap around your ankle, lightly squeezing, as if to test out the feeling. 

"I got invited to a party and can't get out of it," he hums, letting your leg slip free of his grasp. Then, after a moment. "Wanna come?"

"You're inviting a demon to a party?" Slipping off the counter, batting your eyes at him. 

All it takes is one step forward for him to stumble back, wide-eyed and stuttering. "Is that... am I not supposed to do that? I'm sorry." 

"Hey, I never said no," your hands find their way to his chest, gently pushing—his back thumps against the fridge. "What color do you like?" 

"R-red?" That cute mouth of his wobbles, the slightest hint of facial hair coloring his upper lip. It'll be gone by five, but it's nice to see it for once. 

Red it is.

You think this party was thrown by the same sorority who invited you up to party with them because this is...not what you were anticipating. Shot glasses, shitty beer, and flashing lights, the thump of the music so heavy that your bones really with it. You don't even know where the speakers are, lost to the swarm of people crammed into this tiny bar.

All of a sudden, your long, sultry dress has shed into a short little number that blends in with the rest of the crowd. You can't see him, but you can feel Bob's eyes jump onto your frame. 

"How did you do that?" Tilting his head to the side like that will somehow help him find an answer to his question. 

"Magic, I suppose," there's an actual explanation for it, but you've long since forgotten it. Something about manifestation and energy and a word too big for your tongue to pronounce. "I actually have zero idea how it works."

There's so much going on that you find yourself vanishing for a few minutes. Nothing but a misty haze lingering over Bob's head as one of his buddies shoves a drink into his hand and pushes him down into a cushioned chair. You haven't the slightest clue what kind of golden liquid is swishing around in that cup, but it's got a flavor that has Bob's nose wrinkling.

"Someone's not a drinker," observing aloud, a sudden presence in his lap, your knees caging his hips.  

"Was it that obvious?" Sheepish, with that little sideways smile of his. Whether that's from admitting to his inability to drink alcohol or from where you've chosen to sit, you're not sure. 

"Your little nose wrinkle gives you away," your little tap on his nose makes him blink. "You're almost a little too clean-cut for this place." 

There's nothing special or different that he's done about his appearance, but the aesthetics of the crowd make it look like he's walked into the wrong party. A little bit too put together when you compare his ironed button-down and perfectly gelled hair to the half-drunk faces, trendy, cheap outfits, and that group of shirtless men over in the corner.

At least you have the luxury of changing clothing at the drop of a hat. Otherwise, you would be in the same boat.

"He said it was only gonna be a dozen of us," Bob lifts the glass to his lips once more, his nose twitching at the bitter flavor that greets his tongue. He's trying to hide his reaction, but you can still see the disgust in his eye.

"More like twelve dozen," plucking the glass from his hand, setting it on the little table next to the chair. "You could've convinced me this was a high-end frat party."

Looking around is enough to make you question if 'high-end' was just you being generous because this is looking more like an average party by the second. A myriad of nameless faces lost to the flash of the lights: red, blue, green, purple, yellow, a cycle that never loses its pattern. But even the strain it puts on your eyes isn't enough to distract from the sloppy grinding of bodies against each other, hands in the air, writhing to a beat that definitely does not match the music. 

Something is starting to press against your inner thigh. An insistent pressure that almost feels—

Damn, how long have Bob's cheeks been bright red like that?

"Are you good?" Pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, clammy to the touch. "You're red as a balloon."

"Yep," his voice strained, so tight it may snap at the slightest hint of pressure. And he's looking over at the painting on the wall, one of those uninteresting things with only a few paint splatters to stain the pure white canvas. Not the kind of thing worth staring at so intently.

You shift forward, thumb swiping at the sweat beading at his temple—

"You sure get hard easily." Teasing. You hadn't even been trying, but that's definitely a heavy bulge pressing into you, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks. 

A muscle in his jaw flexes, swallowing hard. "Please don't say it out loud."

"I can fix that, you know." Perhaps curling your hand around his jaw is a little bit too bold, but he isn't making any moves to push you away or tell you to stop. "Some say I'm pretty good at that."

"No, no, that's okay," Bob shakes his head, gently dislodging your hand from his face. "I don't wanna make you do that."

"You're not making me do anything," leaning the slightest bit closer, tapping him on the chest with an index finger. "I'm volunteering. There's a difference."

He swallows again.

Someone calls out his name, waving a hand in the air as if to guide attention to himself as he emerges from the crowd, drink in hand, smile so big that it ought to blind someone. You vaguely recall seeing him back on the ship; name starts with an 'f'.

...shame that you don't remember anything more than that.

But Bob is uttering some Navy jargon that you don't have the capacity to keep up with, and your knees are starting to hurt, skin stuck to the cheap leather cushion. It's much easier to turn yourself around, back leaning against his chest, now free to scan over and watch the part of the room you couldn't see before. 

It's not that you don't feel him pressing into the curve of your ass; you just...well, you kind of forget about it. The moment you lay eyes on the game of beer pong happening behind the pool table, you're invested. Straining your neck to try and get a better look at who is winning, crossing two fingers as a lady in a little white skirt goes up against a guy who looks two beers away from a total blackout. 

Neither of them are good at it. Far from it, actually, but the girl's friends are cheering her on, and the man has missed the cup thrice now, stumbling over his own two feet. He misses. She scores two. He gets another point while she's trying to catch a ball that has rolled off into her crowd of friends.

You don't realize you've been squirming until Bob's forehead thunks against your back, shoulders rising with his inhale. 

"Where did your buddy go?" Chirping in the lightest tone you can muster. As if you're blissfully unaware of what's going on.

"Maybe we should get up," entirely evading your question.

It's a worthy idea that goes down the drain within the same minute it's suggested. What you couldn't see from the couch was how big the crowd actually is. It's a swarm that swallows you whole, someone's shoving into your back, and Bob's stumbling into you, and it's all you can do not to explode into a plume of mist. 

You're only distantly aware of his arm curling around you, cinching you to him as if to anchor you in before the storm can wash you away. Your leg slotting between his is far from intentional. But it happens, and you're nose to nose with him, and the corner of his eye is twitching, and you swear you can hear a dam breaking.

You don't entirely know how you wind up here. Squeezing into this sorry excuse of a bathroom stall, your hands greedily dipping beneath his shirt, chest to chest. Every little meet of your lips has him gasping against you. His tongue tastes like the honey biscuit he was nibbling on earlier, the one that dripped on his shirt and left little white crumbs all over his lap.

You could eat him.

"We shouldn't..." He's whispering. A secret meant for your ears only.

Everything screeches to a halt. "Do you wanna stop?"

Shaking his head. "No." 

He makes it so damn easy. Legs parted just enough to allow your thigh to slot between them, immediately squeezes down around it the moment he recognizes it's there, drawing you right up into—

A shiver wracks through him. So intense that you can feel it.

You don't need to worry about taunting him. He's reacting as if you've already made a remark. Nose scrunching as he tries to steel his face, warding off the softness that once lingered there, taken aback by the sudden pressure between his legs. Such a strong front. Shame that it folds the moment your hand curls against the bulge in his slacks.

"You're bad at this," a teasing lilt in your tone, lazily working your hand against him. No real rhythm or method to it, simply a shifting pressure that you can already feel his hips beginning to follow. 

"It's been a while," muttered like a confession—a sin of the past.

Now that has your attention. "You've done this before?" 

The bathroom door squeals open, the handle cracking against the tile so hard that some of it tears off the wall entirely, shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. A chunk of it rolls under the stall on a one-way track to strike the side of your shoe. You don't recognize the too-loud voices that enter the room, but Bob seems to, eyes rolling for a fraction of a moment. 

"Something similar...once," hardly audible over whatever the hell is being discussed by the sinks. 

You'll have to get the full story out of him when there aren't extra ears lurking mere feet away. Right now, though, you're tugging at his zipper, yanking it down as far as it will go, your hand darting through the gap. 

Good lord.

It's always the quiet ones.

"I'm surprised you can get through security with this thing," there's so much of him that you've got to use your other hand, fumbling to pop open his button. 

"With what?" Bob's brow furrows. You lightly squeeze the base of him. "...oh." 

One of the men shouts. Two laughs chime after it in hot pursuit.

There's a considerable weight to him that you hadn't anticipated until just now, his pretty, flushed cock throbbing in your hand. Muscle memory kicks into gear without much thought, gradually gliding up from his base to his tip—ruby red, almost angry in appearance, such a sharp contrast to your fingers.

His hips follow your motions, subtle little backs and forths that you nearly miss at first, keen on chasing your touch but too shy to allow himself to do it. Teeth sink into his bottom lip, pressing so hard that they leave an indent behind. Breathing hard through his nose, eyes screwing shut like he's fighting something back. 

You know what he's doing. Can't let a single noise escape for fear of it reaching the other ears in the room, but there's no way they can. Not with all that racket they're making. 

It's fifty-fifty if you still remember how to interrupt electricity, your one sure-fire method of making sure nobody can see what you're doing, but there's only one way to find out. 

Getting on your knees in a bathroom stall might be a new one for you, but here you are, blindly sinking lower and lower. Can't quite see what you're doing, your eyes hopelessly locked on Bob Floyd and his pink cheeks. Hasn't even realized what you're doing yet.

There's probably a good minute or two where you just hover there, waiting for the moment he realizes that you've moved. Eye-level with his cock, lazily thumbing each and every bead of precum across his plush head, a little routine to decorate the loose up-and-down of your hand. But his eyelids remain closed, and you're just so damn impatient.

The greet of your tongue has him jumping up onto his tiptoes. His head smacking into the flimsy stall wall. 

"What was that?" 

It's as if the room has morphed into a library. Complete, utter silence. Nothing but the faint breaths of the men gathered outside of the stall, Bob's, and your own. From the gap, you can see a black and yellow shoe taking a step forward. Silently inching closer.

The whites of Bob's eyes are so big that you can hardly see the color that decorates them. Drowned out and lost to a wave of fear that you can feel prickling through his body. If only those stupid yellow shoes would turn around and walk away; you wanted to play this card a little bit longer. 

The bathroom plunges into darkness. 

So you do still remember how to do that.

Someone screams. You're not sure who, but it was far too high-pitched to be the man right in front of you. Maybe it was the loser with the yellow shoes. Audibly stomping across the tile floor, shouting at each other as they fight for the door. The hinge squeals. Someone accidentally kicks the corner of it on their way out. 

And then it swings closed. The room falling quiet as the sliver of light peeking through the gap disappears entirely. 

Your mouth opens, gently drawing Bob into your mouth. Thicker than what you anticipated, uncomfortably stretching your lips around his head, but it's only a slight inconvenience. You can hardly think about it. Especially not when flicking the tip of your tongue across his slit elicits that sort of noise. Pitchy and drawn out, slipping out of him before he can stop it.

"That's—" his palm finds its way to your forehead. Pushes lightly. Jerks away. Lands on the side of your cheek instead. "A lot." 

You have very different definitions of 'a lot'.

You're actually moving rather slowly, gradually working your way down his length. He's only just beginning to touch the back of your throat, but Bob sucks in a sharp gasp of air as if you've just sprung this on him. You'd complain if he didn't taste so sweet. Just can't help but take him as far as he'll go, the tip of your nose kissing the cold metal of his zipper, throat so full of him that your head spins. 

He's trying to say something. Little fragments of words that might or might not be your name. Breaking apart the moment they fall into his mouth, shattered pieces raining down upon you and your eager ears. 

Maybe you're too quick about this. A fraction too eager to draw all the way back, only to fall upon him once more, lazily letting yourself gag around him if only to hear him groan low in his throat and to feel his thighs shudder beneath your palms. 

"I'm—I'm already, I..." Bobby's panting. Pawing at the side of your face. Doesn't know if he wants to pry you off or push your head back down. 

You expected this. You knew he would be a little bit quick, but all of a sudden, he's twitching in your mouth, a rope of cum decorating your tongue and...

Honey.

Why does he taste like honey? 

It feels like a fluke at first. Has you drawing all the way back, sucking gently on his spasming tip, but it doesn't change. Overwhelmingly sweet and thick on your tongue. It doesn't...since when did human men taste like this? Good lord, what took you so long to find one like this?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bob's abruptly pulling out of your mouth with a sharp 'pop,' the toilet paper roll audibly spinning as he grabs at it. 

The overhead light flickers back on. Damn near blinding. You nearly miss the shade of cherry decorating his cheeks. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you taste like honey?" 

"You can't be serious."

"No, something's gotta be wrong. I've picked something up somewhere," Bob doesn't seem to realize that he's started pacing again, striding back and forth across the room. "That doesn't...it shouldn't taste like honey!"

Your leg kicks off the edge of the exam table, taping him on the hip as he drifts past. "And what? You think a mystery STD will?"

"Maybe there's one I'm not considering," he stops dead in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye. "You should get tested too."

"Hard to catch a human virus if you aren't human," dragging your foot up the side of his thigh, "maybe it's just a succubus thing."

Bob's hand curls around your ankle, bringing it to rest comfortably against the side of his hip. "Huh?"

"I mean, like...maybe I taste it differently based on how much I like the person?" You're already grasping at straws as it is, but it's so hard to think when Bob is rubbing the back of your ankle like that. Diligent fingers pressing into strained muscle, drawing the tension away with every loose spiral.

"No," shaking his head as if to add emphasis to an already firm word. "I don't...no, that wouldn't make sense." 

That was your one and only theory, but, well, if he insists. "Alright, honey cum."

"Please, don't."

You're gone by the time the doctor decides to come back. Doesn't have a whole lot to say, but a few weeks later, there's a neatly folded paper on the counter with a whole bunch of negatives on it. 

Bob catches you looking at them, but he doesn't have anything to say about it. He's more intrigued by your appearance than anything else, brushing the pads of his fingers against one of your horns as he drifts past.

"Have you always had these?" He chirps, on a one-way track back to his coffee maker. His poor heart might stop if he pours himself anymore, but that doesn't seem to be stopping him.

"Technically, yes," it's a lazy reply, but you're not sure what else to say. "I didn't think to hide them today. What is that, your third cup of coffee today?" 

"Fifth," he corrects, unashamed about finishing off the pot. There's just enough left to fill his mug to the rim and then some. How he doesn't spill it, you'll never know. "Do all demons have horns?"

"Depends on the race, really," shrugging. "Succubi have short, narrow horns with vibrant colors, crossroad demons have horns similar to a Texas Longhorn, fallen angels don't have any at all..." You could keep going, but you would be talking for a long, long time.

You probably shouldn't be lingering around Bob's apartment, invisible to the naked eye as you lounge in the soft red couch and gaze out the window at every rise and fall of the sun. He seems to know that you're still here; hums something that sounds like your name when the cushion sinks beneath your weight. 

It's a cute apartment, really. A thrifted coffee table and an oversized bookcase that has already run out of room, excess books spilling over onto the shelves that were once reserved for figurines, and clever callbacks to movies. 

There's a stash of DVDs lurking inside of the TV stand, and in the ottoman, a pair of signed and framed Star Wars posters decorating the hallway. He thinks that he's spread out the anime enough to pass undetected, but you can clearly see the manga lurking in the smaller bookcase in his bedroom. There's a Naruto sticker hiding on the side of the fridge, a Pokemon in the bathroom cabinet, and so far, you have counted four Trigun figurines. 

Five, if you include the one you just watched him unwrap and place next to his model jet. This one kind of looks like him...

"Are you still in here?" Bob calls out from somewhere on the other side of the apartment. It might be the first time you've heard his voice rise above a mutter since he left the doctor's office. 

You're not entirely sure where he is. Haven't exactly moved from the couch now that the sun has fallen again, blankly gazing at the distant ocean as if it's a home you once knew like the back of your hand. 

He appears in the hallway. Fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt, his eyes squinting as he tries to scan the room without his glasses. You're still waiting for him to realize that he left them next to the stove again.

"Come out?" He tries again, ambling forward. "Please?" 

"Looking to terrorize your boss again?" Dissolving into solidity, the chilly air nipping unpleasantly at your skin. Invisible was better. You couldn't feel the temperature when you didn't have a body. 

Or...maybe you're feeling the temperature incorrectly because Bob looks like a shrimp mid-boil. Red in the cheeks, so flushed that it crawls down into his neck, and the sliver of chest showing through the collar of his shirt. 

"Bob?" Tilting your head to the side. 

"I wanna return the favor." Deadpan.

Blink.

Blink again.

Blink one more time.

You don't follow. "Pardon?"

"I mean, I..." his eyes skip around the room. Bouncing off of the coffee table to the poster behind your head, the miscellaneous figurine shelf, and the refrigerator. "You did something for me, and I...don't...like the idea of it being so one-sided?"

"Bob, I'm a succubus," there's supposed to be an underlying hint there because this is kind of the very reason for your existence, but Bob doesn't seem to pick up on that. Or maybe he does and just doesn't react. "Do you even know how?"

A beat passes. 

His head shakes. No.

"I'm a quick learner?" Offering it up like he's bartering. You wonder if you can get him to start offering crops and livestock. "Is that...okay?" 

You're not sure if it's the novelty of the idea or if it's because of that soft, doe-eyed expression he nails you with, but something has you agreeing to it. But just because you're on the same page together doesn't mean you'll be the very next sentence that he reads. 

You're gone the moment he's in front of you. 

"Where did you—"

"But you'll have to catch me first." Reappearing behind him. Walking your fingers up his spine. 

He turns. 

You're gone. Drifting behind his back again. Blowing at his nape. 

"Hey!" He squeals. So shrill and pitchy that it nearly throws you off. Only manage to dissolve into a plume of mist when he reaches for you. 

Bob is already spinning around. Blocks you from getting to his back again. And there must be some kind of 'tell' of where you are because his eyes follow you every which way. You'd might as well be fully human because this isn't working. 

You don't know how you get into the kitchen. But you're on one side, and Bob is on the other before you've even become solid. You stumble three steps to the right; he's already there. You go left. But then he goes left. You dart right—corner to corner to corner. Shit, you've put yourself in a corner. Either way you have to get past him. 

"Why are you so damn quick?" Giggling. Your feet slide against the hardwood. Not as fast as him. This will only last so long.

"Did you forget." He jumps left. "I'm in." Right. "The Navy?" Left again.

"I thought that meant you would be good at swimming!" You're slipping. Grabbing at the countertop before you can hit the floor. "Not—this!"

He breaks the pattern first. Shoots around the corner so quickly that you nearly don't have time to spin back around. His fingertips graze your back as you turn. You're tearing off around the corner. Dissolving bit-by-bit and—

There's a pressure around your waist, and the room is spinning, and you don't remember when or how your feet left the ground. 

"Bobby!" You're squealing, throwing your arms around his shoulders before you can slip. 

It's hard telling when or how things escalate the way that they do. All you remember is the coldness of the floor as he sets you back down, the heat of his arms around you, and the bump of his nose against your cheek. And melting. Fuck, you remember melting into him like snowflakes in July, meeting him halfway, his soft lips melding with yours so easily. 

You do remember when you fall against the couch. Nothing but ruby red cushions and the lingering pink in Bobby's cheeks, settling between your legs with such ease that you almost wonder if you've done this with him before. 

Christ, he could probably convince you that you've already had a few nights together. 

There's no reason why or how he should know that you're sensitive beneath your ear, mouthing at the skin there but never making a move to mottle it with bruises. Respectful. Irritatingly so. Never leaving behind a mark, not even when he bites at the collar of your shirt and grazes the skin that lurks beneath.

He wasn't lying when he said he was a quick learner. Is he sure that he's never done this before? Because he gets your lounge shorts off surprisingly easily. His waist dipping between your thighs, swollen lips finding your lower belly once more, working down, down, down...

"Shit," his tongue has you jolting, entirely caught off guard. "A little sudden there."

It's hard to feel any sort of annoyance when he peeks up at you from beneath his lashes, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. "'m sorry."

Your hand curls into the back of his hair, a fraction longer than it was when his so-called friends summoned you right into his lap. Only takes the slightest pressure for him to dip his head back down, licking a slow stripe against you. He misses your clit on the first try, pulls away a little too soon. But he finds it on the second, visibly perks at your sharp inhale, and retraces his steps until you do it again.

Learning should imply that he doesn't know what he's doing beforehand. You're gonna need to steal his dictionary off the shelf and look up the proper definition because you're pretty sure he was lying. 

There's no damn reason why he should know how to point his tongue and trace it around your clit, teasing until your hips lift off the mattress. Temporary relief comes in the form of the hum that rumbles out of him, vibrating through your nerves like electricity. He's settling into it now, laying flat on his belly, arms curled around your thighs as ifhe belongs there.

Fuck, and he's working his way down. Pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses into your dripping pussy, stopping to lap at your entrance before pressing inside. His tongue isn't even all that long, but the wet heat and the tip of his nose pressing against your clit yanks a gasp out of your throat, eyes snapping shut. 

Your thigh squishes against his cheek, leg looping lazily over his shoulder as if that could somehow possibly bring him closer. Fingers twist in his hair, nails scraping across his scalp—

"What the hell?" Your own voice sounds foreign. Detached from your body.

Bob lifts his head, and good lord, his lips are glistening. "Hm?"

"What is this little bump on your head?" Tapping your nail against it, uniquely bony compared to the rest of his scalp. Feels like a perfect circle.

"I don't know what they are," nonchalant, already dipping back between your legs, "'ve had 'em since I was born."

You can see them when you push his hair out of the way, little indentations beneath the skin, solid as can be. One on each side, a few inches above his ears. These kind of look like...

No, that's not right. 

That sweet tongue of his finds you again. Drawing lazy shapes that transform into shock waves on impact, rumbling up your spine and down into your fluttering thighs. Letters. He's drawing letters, and you can hardly decipher what they are, but the voice in the back of your head whispers that he's writing is name into your cunt. Over and over until he's certain that you'll never find pleasure in a name that isn't his. 

"Bobby, I..."

He hums, hands curling around your hips, pulling you in. Doesn't let go of that same lazy pace that he just set for himself, curling through an 'R' and into an 'O' so intoxicating that you find your own mouth mimicking it, too. You don't mean to cum so soon. You really don't, but your eyes unintentionally lock with his, that tiny smile curling the corners of them, and shit—

Your back twitches up off the bed. Crying out so sharply that it rips right out of your throat. Your head might just tumble off your shoulders. Floating up into the clouds, heaven-bound. Weightless. 

The hands on your hips tighten. Anchoring you back down. Bob's burning tongue working you through it like he's done it a hundred times until your body is tensing and jerking away from every little lick.

"Jesus," sucking in a breath, "Christ." 

Bob lifts his head, swollen lips twisting into a cheesy grin. "Wrong name." 

"Nerd," tapping him on the nose.

"Demon," biting the inside of your thigh. 

It's hard telling who sputters into a laugh first. Giggling like school kids as he climbs up the bed, his mouth clumsily finding its way to yours. It's so much easier to hold his face when his glasses aren't in the way; don't have to worry about smudging a lense or accidentally knocking them off his face entirely. 

If you thought that you were bad, then Bob Floyd is another monster entirely because once he's gotten a taste of you, he can't get enough. 

Because he's on you again in the morning, kissing at your shoulder and working his way down your naked belly before his final alarm goes off and forces him to start getting ready for work. His sweet tongue working over your clit, chasing down a vastly different zig-zag pattern as he eases a thick, curious finger into you. Lazily searches for a little spot that steals your breath away and has you babbling for another.

In the evening, he's nibbling and kissing at your thighs while you wait for the pizza delivery guy is on his way. Leaves behind sporadic little marks that gradually acquire a delicious tenderness that makes you gasp when you try to cross your legs later. 

You answer to the sound of your name on an average Tuesday afternoon. An unapproved presence in a top-security Naval building, perched up on the edge of a locker room bench like you belong there. Like you, too, are a pilot with a willingness to perform and just the right amount of crazy flowing through your veins. 

Bob doesn't utter a word about it, but you know that one of his superiors has chewed him out again because his cheeks are pale as can be, eyes only softening at the sight of you appearing before him. And maybe he's a little bit too eager to fall to his knees, peppering your skin with kisses that make their way to where you crave them the most. 

Again and again. An addict who seems to need his fix every time he's overwhelmed. It's your purpose, the very thing you were built for, but the invisible string that draws you into him is unlike any other you've been wrapped up in before. An undescribable something-else lurking behind the charm of those wireframes and his warm, dizzying voice. Never asks for anything in return, all too content with eating you alive.

Your favorite might be the night that he pulls a muscle in his shoulder blade. One little misstep in the gym is all it takes for a night and a half of overwhelming soreness, binding him flat on his back, minding his left side. But even the mix of ibuprofen, Tylenol, and a dash of pain isn't enough to keep him grounded.

"I have an idea." It's been forever since you last heard him speak. The last time you recall hearing his voice was last night when he asked you to pass him his toothbrush.

"Uh oh," not in any particular hurry to lift your head from his chest, naked and oh so warm to the touch. 

"What?" He's trying to act offended, but the attempt dies mid-air. Won't be making a living in acting any time soon, that's for sure. 

Tapping your finger on his collarbone, overtop a thin white scar you've yet to learn the story of. "Don't 'what' me." 

His laugh sounds like thunder. Deep and rumbling into your ears, a tune you didn't know you craved until just now. 

A familiar warmth settles against your cheek, diligent fingers tracing the edge of your jaw. "What if I told you I had another idea?"

One of these days, you'll learn to quit being surprised. 

Today, you're shocked that he asked you to ride his face. 

Shit, but here you are. Knees precariously resting above his head. Trying your best not to let your thighs clamp down around his face as he dips his tongue between your folds, half-lidded gaze fixated on your expression. You've long since lost count of how many times you've felt this. The soft whisps of his short hair tickling your skin, the way he hums when he hears you gasp.

"You've got," raking your fingers against his scalp, anything to distract from the calculated zig-zag across your clit, "a problem." 

"Maybe that's what's wrong with me," muffled. His every word rumbling through your core and reaching up into your chest. 

"Yeah, well..." drinking in a shuddered breath, "you being addicted to eating me out was not on that list."

It's his fault for laughing again. Should have known that the vibration would have twisted into your nerves and sent them firing, thighs impulsively clamping down around his head with no regard for him or breathing. 

Fuck, it takes a moment to remember how to move them again. 

"I'm sorry," and you're about to lift yourself up, let him get a full breath of air, but his hands find your hips, anchoring you into place. 

"'s okay," pausing to lap at your clit, wet and messy, and god, the sound. "I don't mind."

He'd say that if you accidentally suffocated him to death, too.

Your nails drift across his scalp. Dragging just enough to feel the shift of hair beneath your fingertips, disturbing the hardened bump lurking just a few inches above his ear. You know that it's probably because of the swelling, but you swear it feels bigger than it did a few days ago. And maybe it's sensitive too because, for the briefest moment, you catch the whisp of a gasp. A sharp little intake of air punctuating the way he drifts down to toy with your entrance. 

They're worse the following morning.

He's only just beginning to settle between your legs, diligently kissing down the inside of your thigh, when the brush of your knee sends him reeling. Pawing at the sides of his head. Wincing. Yelping at his own touch.

"Did I—"

"No!" He blurts. Pitchy. "I'm sorry, it's, I—it hurts."

Even the delicate pressure of an ice pack is too much for him to tolerate, hissing like a cat the moment the material touches his skin. You're not entirely sure what to make of them. Dissolving into the air around him for a better view, drifting around his head, twisting every which way as if discovering the perfect angle will reveal the secret.

It doesn't...look infected. Strained is the best descriptor you can come up with. As if something is trying to claw its way out from beneath the skin. 

"And you said you've had these since you were born?" Musing aloud, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.

Hands find your waist as you settle into your human shape once more. "That's what I'm told." Then, tilting his head to look up at you, not making any move to get out of his chair. "Why, what did you see?"

"The same thing you're seeing," you can't help but push his hair back, watching the short strands gradually slip free from your fingers. "Must be a really odd birth defect."

He hums, blinking up at you without a word, perhaps not as concerned about his situation as he should be. Not a trace of worry clouding his features, though the corner of his eye twitches when you unintentionally drift over one of the bumps. 

It's the same kind of gaze that gets you into trouble three nights later. 

He doesn't seem to realize that he's doing it, drowning you in pools of ocean blue every time he looks your way. You don't understand how you make it through the night. He's just so damn distracting. Tapping his foot against yours beneath the table, legs tangling as a nameless mid-forties man in a fancy suit rambles on about the honor of working in the Navy and things you don't care to follow. 

You don't know how you get to the hotel bed. Only vaguely aware of the sensation of your feet leaving the ground, thighs clinging to the sharp bone of his hips. One of his hands is on your ass, and the other is smoothing up your back. Presses just hard enough to have you arching, chests bumping together hard enough to break your kiss.

"Bobby—"

"I know."

The room collapses into a world of pristine white clouds—or maybe you've just fallen onto the bed. You can't tell for sure. Can't be bothered to. Not when a familiar pressure appears against your lips, his firm body settling between your legs with a weight you can't possibly ignore. 

He tastes like the hot chocolate they poured into his cup when he turned down the champagne. Sweet and so warm that you can feel yourself melting, and you must be made of chocolate, too, because he moves as if he's going to eat you alive. Hands rising to cradle your face, settling into a lingering liplock that has you gasping for air.

Your head is spinning. One hand curling around his bicep. The other smoothing up the side of his burning neck. Hardly aware of how your hips lift up from the mattress, but all too aware of him meeting you in the middle. A new pressure forms between your legs. The not-so-subtle bump of a growing bulge against your cunt. 

Curse the layers of fabric separating you from each other. Can't do anything but meet him halfway. Mewling into his mouth like a cat in heat. Legs curling around his hips. The heels of your ankles digging into his ass, urging him closer, closer, closer.

Something trickles across your fingers. Smearing across his neck. 

"What is that?" It's sliding down your palm, scurrying past your wrist and beyond. Water? No, where would it have come from...

Bob draws away, an unusual chill filling the space he once occupied. "What is what?" 

Your hand is crimson. 

Why is your hand...?

"Oh my god." Reeling back. Hands held high as if that can possibly stop the blood that drips from your fingertips, so fresh that you can still feel the warmth of it. 

It's everywhere. Staining the fresh sheets, smeared across the back of Bob's neck, pooling at the shoulders of a brand new uniform that will never be the same again. It's on the shell of his ear and in his hair and—

"Oh my god," you sound like a broken record, but it's all you can say. "Bobby, your head."

Looking back on it, you're thankful Bob booked a room with two beds instead of one. 

There's no salvaging or rectifying the utter disaster going on in the bed that he claimed as his when you first got here. The sheets and comforter torn clean off, lying in a messy pile, waiting for the front desk to call back and tell you what to do with them. From here, they look perfectly fine, still the same shade of pure white, as if nothing has ever happened. 

Your attention meanders across the floor, tracing the lines of geometric shapes, following them on their journey between the beds until they disappear beneath the mattress. Bob's foot still hangs off the edge, a smidge too lazy to try and readjust himself now that he's found home here on your chest.

It's almost strange being here. Snuggling on a hotel bed with a man who didn't even summon you wasn't on the job description. Hell, the last time you even set foot in a place like this was probably years before you realized what you were and fully committed to the whole demonic entity thing. 

"Why don't you ever leave?" Bob's voice rumbles into your collar, a smidge deeper than it was the last time you heard it. 

"You never said you were satisfied with me," darting from your mouth before you can realize what you're about to say. A script so rehearsed that your tongue needs no instruction to utter it.

The room is quieter than it was before.

Which...is odd because nothing about it has changed. The cheap air conditioner still rattles to its own mechanic tune. You can still hear the girl talking on the phone in the hallway. Through the wall behind your head, the neighbor's television still plays the rerun of what sounds like a football game. 

Bob's eyes are open. Can feel the flutter of his lashes against the side of your neck. If you didn't know any better, you would mistake it for the dustings of tiny butterfly wings.

But he doesn't say anything. 

"I'm sorry, I...that may have come out the wrong way."

"'s okay." Says it so quickly that you wonder if he's listened to your apology at all. 

Antsy, you reach for his hair, fingers coming through the still-damp locks. A little bit fried after two full washes, but it was the necessary sacrifice to get all of that blood out. 

You've got to crane your neck to see the culprit, but it's still there, in the same state it was the last time you laid eyes on it. Scabbed over. No longer as swollen as it once was, but there's still something solid lurking beneath the surface. You could have sworn you saw a flash of white in there before it had closed up again, but looking at it now, there's nothing. 

"I think I just like being around you," concluding, after a long moment. 

'Like' may be an understatement, but...

The corner of his mouth is turning upward. You know it is because you can feel it against your chest. "I like being around you, too."

And here you thought you'd figured out what Robert Floyd defines as a party. 

Bubbling glasses of golden champagne, the same shade of the delicate chandelier sparkling overhead, crystals cascading down like a spiral staircase. Enchanting. Beginning three stories up and only ending mere feet away from where you stand, you could probably touch it if you tried. 

Such a stark contrast to the midnight peeking through the windows, twinkling city lights of every color in the rainbow drowned out by the blinding white and gold palette you've found yourself in. Unfamiliar faces and dresses worth more than a car fresh off the lot, wrapped up in the whimsical tune of a live orchestra off to your left.

So many things to look at. Luxury desserts and vivid red couches cozied up beside the fire. There's more to be discovered, entire rooms you have yet to venture into, a custom theater, a cocktail bar...yet, your eyes continue to drift to the only familiar thing here.

And his appear to do the same.

Locking from opposite sides of the room, the buzz of the crowd melting into a distant hum, as if you've just plunged into the very crystal oceans that color his irises. The heat of his gaze is the only thing keeping your head above water, burning across every inch of your skin. It's a wonder you don't go up in flames right here and now.

Glass shatters somewhere to your left. A lady yelps. Someone swears. But you can't bring yourself to look to see what just happened. Captured in a never-ending trance as you move about the room, only able to look away for milliseconds at a time. 

One of Bob's friends are talking to him, mouth moving a mile a minute, but Bob doesn't seem to be listening—Fireball or...something. The name should come to you easier than it does. Bob's told you so many stories of them together, but you fear you've spent too much time lingering on the sound of his voice to actually store and remember the fine details. 

The music swells. 

Heads turn toward the melody, and with it, feet begin to move. It's as if one-half of the party has vanished, opening up the floor enough for you to walk without worry of bumping into anyone. You wouldn't even be in this position if filtering through different forms was socially acceptable and not the quickest way to give someone a heart attack. 

It's like drawing too close to a fire, the flames so bright that you can hardly look at them without being blinded. Except the flames are the open buttons at the very top of his long sleeve, milky white skin peeking through the gap. He's grown a bit since this was fitted, the fabric hugging a little too tightly around his chest, straining already weakened seams. Two of the buttons have already snapped off, unveiling more than he would ever willingly show off. 

He would catch your staring if he weren't already doing the same damn thing. Knows he's been caught, too, cheeks dusting a cherry red the moment he tears his attention away from the slit in your dress, showing off your upper thigh. 

But Fanbase is still talking, rambling on about the subplot of a movie that you've yet to see, and you're simply not interested enough to linger any longer than you have to. Gliding past Bobby as if you hadn't just made eye contact with him, your hand trailing up the side of his arm on your way past. 

The door couldn't come quickly enough, and you disappear through it with nothing more than a wayward glance over your shoulder.

He's still looking at you. 

It's so much quieter in the hallway, all that noise and music vanishing the moment the door swings shut behind you. You're not sure where you're going; didn't plan this far ahead, but you can already see a floor-to-ceiling window that looks interesting enough. A decorative fountain rests in front of it, the water sparkling with the city lights.

The view is better at night. Still breathtaking during the day, but...god, something about the velvet black and twinkling shades of neon really bring out the charm of a city like this. Though you've still yet to figure out why a Navy event is all the way up here, in the tallest building they could find. One of their own venues would have sufficed; then they wouldn't have had to rent all these hotel rooms. 

"Your dress looks awful familiar." Maybe Bob is hiding magic powers of his own because there's no way he could have snuck up on you without floating here.

But there he is. Shoulder resting against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The rolled sleeves are struggling with his forearms, fabric so tight that the threads silently scream. 

"Does it?" Coy. You entirely stole this idea from the front cover of the magazine he had sitting on the kitchen counter. 

You don't mean to step forward at the same time he does, but you do. Nose to nose in the blink of an eye, so close that your vision goes a little blurry and out of focus. 

A door slams down the hall.

The invisible string snaps.

Your hands are in his hair, and his are on your waist, and mouths are clattering with all the grace and elegance of a car crash. The back of your leg hits the fountain. Sends the thing jumping as you all but slam into the window. It's a wonder you don't go crashing through it, plummeting through miles upon miles of midnight neons. 

Because it certainly feels like you did. 

Head spinning as if you're in a free fall. Fingers twisting in his hair before unspoken forces can peel you away, sloppily falling into tune with the bold dance of his lips. Fuck, it's so much more than what you've spent the past fifteen minutes picturing in your head. He tastes like cola and honey, so dizzyingly sweet that a sugar rush buzzes through your veins.

What is it with you and this human? 

It's as if you're one half of a magnet, hopelessly bound to him by forces that you can't quite identify. Yielding to the subtle pressure of his hands, allowing him to gather you into his chest as if you aren't close enough as it is. Heaven, Hell, and Earth could collapse right here and now, and it still wouldn't be enough to drive a wedge between you. 

"And here I thought you weren't the PDA type," that thought was supposed to stay in your head, but it's far too late to do anything about it.

"I think this is a little beyond PDA," Bob's mouth twists into a smile too soon. Teeth smash together with a sound that makes you wince. 

There are voices down the hallway, familiar, but you don't care to try and identify them. Whoever they are, they don't get a chance to see you here because Bob's taking hold of your wrist, and you're falling into the clumsiest run imaginable. Arms awkwardly tangling together. His boots too new to grip the floor. Giggling to yourselves as you slide to the right, fighting to get around the corner before he can be recognized. 

You're already crashing into each other again. And again. And again. Stealing kisses as if you need one for every few steps taken. Can't function otherwise. Winding through the hall, no regard for where you're going or if it's even the right direction, barging through a door and racing up the stairs. You trip on one. Bob falls on his ass on another.

It's a damn wonder how you find the correct door. 

At least, you assume it's the right one because your back all but slams into it; don't even hear the noise that rattles down the empty hall. How are you meant to pay attention to such meaningless things, when a soft pressure appears at your lips? Greedily leaning into it as you all but melt into one another, his breath running ragged.

The key. You need the key. 

It's somewhere on him, your hands blindly smoothing over his chest, searching for the outline of that thin plastic key card. And so what if you momentarily hook your fingers into the top of his shirt? It could have been hiding there, for all you know.

Bob finds it just before you do. Plucking the hunk of plastic from his front pocket, and you can feel the heat of his arm as he reaches past.

Beep.

Gravity tilts on its head. Falling backward. 

Toned arms loop around your waist. Force you to remain upright. Pulling you close like there's a risk of you blowing away. Stumbling backward. Through the door. You don't know how your arms got around his neck, but you're not making any move to let go. Clinging to him like it's the only thing you know how to do. Nose bumping into his cheek as you find your way to his mouth once more. 

One fleeting, accidental brush of his teeth against your lip has electricity bolting up your spine. Shades of gold explode in the depths of your frenzied mind. Fireworks. Tongues tangle for the briefest of seconds. But then he's licking at your bottom lip, and it's parting with a gasp, a little too eager to let him in. Twisting together in a fashion entirely unfamiliar to you, an exquisite dance that has you melting like snow on a summer day.

The mattress greets the backs of your knees, a gentle nudge that has you falling backward without ceremony. He's on top of you within a second, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head, chests pressing together, and—

"Mmh."  His legs spasm around your thigh, only to push it up into him again, pressing against the growing tent in his slacks. Heavy. 

"What was that?" In the lightest tone you can conjure up, rubbing your thigh against him once more. 

His face flushes red. Eyes darting away like he'll catch on fire if he keeps looking at you, but there's no hiding the way he twitches at your touch. And he knows you've felt it because, somehow, his cheeks get even redder. 

"What, don't like being teased?"  

"I might die if you keep talking." 

You'd like to see how true that statement can be. But that's an experiment for another night; you can only take your mind off of the throbbing heat resting against your thigh for so long. 

Fuck, and it seems he's on the same page. Spit-slicked lips find the corner of your jaw, one of his hands smoothing down your side as he works his way beneath your ear. One kiss after the other, only lingering long enough to lightly suck on the skin there. Teeth scrape against you, and you absolutely shouldn't shudder at such a simple feeling, but it happens anyway.

Just like how you wander to his shirt, perhaps a bit too eager to start fumbling with the buttons. They're just as stubborn as you thought they would be, angrily wedging themselves in the gaps designed for them to fit through. Stupid things. Who ever thought these were a good idea?

Bob reaches past you, his wrist bumping your hand away—

Buttons scatter. Rolling across the floor. Bouncing across the bed. One strikes your chin. Another thunks against the headboard.

"I didn't know you had it in you," giggling. Only have a handful of seconds to admire the broad expanse of his pale chest before he's on you again. Picking up right where he left off, somewhere beneath your ear, where you're most sensitive. 

His hum sounds like it's wrapped around the shape of your name, vibrating up your neck, rattling around in your skull like an earthquake. It's a wonder you don't fall apart. Fingertips biting into his shoulders, squeezing them as tightly as you can. And he just keeps kissing on you. Working down, down, down to your collar, only stopped by the fabric of your dress.

You can make it disappear.

He knows you can make it disappear.

And yet his hands slip behind your back, tugging down the tiny zipper that runs parallel to your spine. 

Takes the time to ease the soft material off your body, impossibly slow, as if he's afraid of ripping it. Past your hips and over your knees. Folds it in half and sets it off to the side. And for a moment, he pauses. Lips shining with the same light that reflects off his glasses, hardly distracting from the sparkle of his eye. 

Kisses find the inside of your knee. Working across the joint and delving into the delicate territory of your thigh. It's a tune he's played so many times that you already know where he's going and what thoughts are lurking in the back of his quiet mind. Tempting, but...

The dog tags hanging from his neck are too perfect not to grab. Why he's wearing them, you're not sure, but they reel him back in so damn easily. 

But Bob freezes the moment you're eye to eye with him, not entirely sure how to tread this newfangled path he's found himself on. And that must be what makes it so easy to push him around. Flipping your positions with a skill you forgot you had, your ass snug in his lap, knees straddling his hips.

The back of his head thunks against the headboard, unnamed shades of red rising to tint his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"You're sure?" He croaks; for a split second, you're on the ship again, meeting for the very first time. 

"Are you sure?" Countering. The bridge of your nose bumps into his. 

You don't necessarily remember what happens after that. 

It all melts into a blur. Starts with you bouncing a button off his bare chest and ends with the sound of his pants hitting the floor next to you. You don't know who got the lube out. It must have been him because you still don't know where it even came from, but it's the sensation of his slick fingers pressing into you that catapults you back into reality. 

"You remember that I'm a succubus, right?" The intended sarcasm doesn't so much as reach your vocal chords, nothing but a breathy whisper of the obvious. 

A smile is all that he gives in return. "I know."

It's been too long since the last time you felt this. The pressure of thick fingers slipping into your already drooling cunt, knuckles catching on your entrance as they drag past. Coarse fingertips drag against your walls, crooked, running across a bundle of nerves that he has no business knowing about. Knows he's found it too, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of your whine. 

Yeah. 

It's been too long. 

That's why you're so sensitive all of a sudden.

It's certainly not because of the heavy cock resting against the swell of your ass. Has nothing to do with the pools of blue that lurk in his eye; you reckon you'd drown in them if you were to fall forward. No, you only feel like that because of the never-ending city view that sits just past his head. Broad and expansive, just like...just like his shoulders...

You don't realize what your hand is doing until you overhear his sharp inhale. His body jerks, shocked by the sudden trace of your fingers running up the underside of his cock. 

Impatience will be the undoing of both of you. In such a sudden hurry that lube spills onto the bed in your rush to slick him up, and it's only after that he realizes he's forgotten about the condom. Doesn't matter. The damn thing flies out of his hand when he tries ripping it open with his teeth, landing somewhere on the floor.

"Again," lifting your hips, lazily smacking his blunt tip against your cunt, "succubus."

"I'm sorry," he's yet to realize you're merely messing with him. Condom, no condom, you don't care either way. "I don't wanna make a mess of you."

"Maybe I want you to make a mess of me," countering. And it's the last thing you can say before the pressure of his cock shuts you up. 

If you asked, you're certain he would humbly refer to himself as average, but this is...this is so much better than average. Thicker than usual and wonderfully curved, fitting that a man so intent on pleasing you would also have the perfect cock, too. Stretches you just enough to make your jaw go slack, his fat tip dragging against every little nerve it can find. 

Bob tilts his head back, his chest rising with a heavy inhale, and that may be a whine that you hear. His lashes flutter, visibly fighting to keep them open as you sink down on him. Inch after inch, and it's been so long since you last felt this full. 

And maybe they've sucked all of the oxygen from the room because neither of you can seem to catch your breath. 

"That's..." his eyes drop down, fixating on the sight of him disappearing into you, "shit, that's..."

He doesn't get to finish that thought, and you don't get the chance to bother him about it, entirely distracted by the overwhelming sensation of him bottoming out. Your ass flush with his thighs, so damn full of him that your heart has risen into your throat. 

You've already found the strength to lift your body again. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, using him for leverage as your hips lift, the city lights seeming to twinkle when he rubs into those soft nerves. Can only manage to raise yourself by an inch or two before collapsing down into him once more. 

The warmth of Bobby's gaze crawls up your naked body, slow, like he's trying to take his time before he meets your eye. And when he does...

"You still in there?" Winding your arms around his neck. Can't seem to get him close enough.

His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips, dry from panting, "uhuh." 

You suppose he's telling the truth because he's present enough to remember how to tilt his head up and catch you with a kiss—breathing hard through your noses. His hands squeezing your hips. Holding them through every rise and fall. 

Lube squelches between your legs. His cock head driving directly into that bundle of nerves again, your pussy helplessly spasming around him. You fear you're going to shatter into a million pieces if he does that again, but there's no attempt to shift your angle. Chasing that sensation again, crying out as a shock bolts up your spine. 

"Bobby," it slips out so easily. Riding on the coattails of a gasp. 

Foreheads knock together. So close that the sight of him goes a little bit fuzzy. Noses bumping when his hips twitch up, snapping into yours so swiftly that it knocks a whimper out of you. Just makes him do it again, and you are not living up to the whole succubus thing by collapsing into his shoulder. 

"Fuck, I can—" he grunts, punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, "can feel you clenchin' around me." 

And you can feel him twitch inside of you. Such a simple feeling that has you getting wetter around him, can only imagine what kind of mess is forming between your bodies right now. You'd look, but it's hard enough pulling yourself back, thighs burning, desperate to work back into the rhythm you just...built up...

Is...that...?

"What's wrong?" Bob has stopped moving at...some point. You don't know when that was. The concept of time passing is a little bit irrelevant right now.

Words don't necessarily come to you. Fleeting chunks of vaguely related sentences that you can't quite stitch together. You don't...that's not...when did...?

The only thing you can think of is to touch one of them. 

His back jerks off the headboard. Sucking in a gasp. Eyes going wide. But then, twitching at the corners, pretty blue irises rolling back, his cock spasming despite your lack of movement. For a moment, not a sound seems to escape him, but then it's all shattered by a barely muffled whimper. 

"So that's what's wrong with you." Deadpan. 

Touching them made him cum. That's... somewhat familiar, actually. 

Bobby's eyes can barely tear themselves open, fighting against them as he blinks up at you. "What?" 

You're almost hesitant to touch them again. Two tiny horns, no more than an inch tall, poking out from where those pesky bumps once resided. 

Horns. Of course. Why did you think you were wrong when you considered that earlier? They're identical to yours! A few inches above the ear, wide at the base and growing narrow as it nears the tip. Jet black for the time being, but they'll develop their color with time. 

The one upside to being a succubus. Uniquely colored horns. 

"Not to bring up family while all seven and a half inches of you are inside of me," because you're not sure about how to start this conversation, jumping on the first half-baked plan that comes to mind. "But are you entirely sure your folks are human?"

His head tilts. "Why?" 

The only thing you can think of is to take a picture. Those two tiny horns poking out like they're part of a cute headband, so ridiculously small in person and even smaller on his phone. As you pass it off to him, you catch yourself wondering if he'll see them at all. 

"...huh." Is all that he can say. 

They're far too sensitive for him to touch, not after what mess you just caused, but he tries. Winces the moment his fingertips make contact with the fresh new bone; you can only imagine this is how you reacted the first time your horns made their appearance, too. 

You wonder if there's anything behind them. You've seen a few variations where a second pair sprouted behind the first, but you can't see anything from this angle. If you just lean a little further to the right—

A whimper twists through the air. Pretty blue eyes squeeze shut.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"No, no, no, don't," his hands are back on your hips, pulling you back down into his lap before you've even moved an inch, and oh, you can feel his cum beginning to spill out of you. Fuck, there's so...there's so much of it. It'll make a mess of the bed if you're not careful, but you can't move. Not with those big hands anchoring you down. 

But he's not done talking. 

"Keep going," he blurts, his chest shuddering with a breath. Horns be damned, those aren't on his mind right now. "Please, I just, I want, I want you to—" 

A swivel of your hips shuts him up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already too late to stifle the pitchy little noise that sails out of his throat. God, that's a hell of a sound. Combined with the way his half-hard cock twitches in you, it's almost too much to bear. He can hardly handle it himself, squirming, not sure if he wants to push into you or away from you. 

"There!" Stardust twinkles behind your eyes. "Right there. Don't move."

It's as if the room has exploded into a galaxy. Midnight black and the deepest shades of navy, decorated in a rainbow of distant, twinkling stars. You and him and this big, oversized hotel bed. Weightless. Floating round and round, further and further away, until you're lost to the Milky Way itself. 

The fat tip of his cock drives up into those nerves again. Space nearly swallows you up once more. "Bobby..."

Your eyes must have been closed because you don't remember his head tipping back. Dazed, flushed cheeks, so entirely focused on you that the rest of the world ceases to exist at all. Pitchy whimpers, stumbling off his drooling tongue, overstimulated but making no move to push you off of him.

His lips seal. Hardly manages to muffle his noises, but it's already too quiet for your liking.

One of your hands curls around his cheek. Thumb pressing against his bottom lip, hardly takes any pressure for him to give way, allowing you in. And his poor tongue is right there, practically begging you to pin it down, and who are you to deny such a request?

Heat twists in your belly. Pussy clenching tighter around him. Your motions growing jerky. Sporadic. Sparks of color flash behind your eyelids, growing heavier by the second. And it's so fucking loud in this room. Whimpers. Cries. Blending together so seamlessly that you can't tell who makes what noise. Every motion punctuated by an all-too-loud squelch of cum and lube, fuck, this bed is going to be ruined after this.

"I-I'm—" Bob whines, tongue flexing beneath your thumb. Eyes glassy, one blink away from tears spilling over the brim. 

"Close." Don't know if you're finishing his sentence or speaking for yourself. 

It washes over you with all the strength and violence of a tidal wave. Hips stalling. Head falling back. Cumming on his cock with an unexpected cry, heat racing through your veins, skin prickling, breath hung up in your throat. You think your eyes cross. Can't really figure out how true that is, too busy floating through the cracks in the universe to think about anything but the spasm of his length inside of you. 

And you're vaguely aware that he's cumming, too, his cries vibrating through your thumb and deep into your bones. 

"Still in there?" You find yourself asking after a moment. 

Bob hums and you're only now realizing that his glasses are gone, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. Where they've gone, you don't know; don't think you could get up and look for them if you tried. 

All of the strength has left your legs. Thighs trembling as you lift yourself from his lap. And they can only hold you up for so long before you find yourself collapsing next to him, greeted by the significantly cooler sheets. 

Those horns are still there. All too present as he tries to snuggle down onto a pillow, inconveniently brushing against the fabric. You're both a damn mess. His lower belly glistens in the light, and you can already feel his cum beginning to spill out of you onto the sheets. 

Sheets that you don't want to change for a cleaner set. 

But the shower is so far away...and Bob is curling his arm around you. Pulling you closer to him as if the six inches of space between your bodies is too much for him to handle. Your nose bumps into his chin, the slightest hint of stubble growing there.

You should hide his razor and see what happens.

"How do I make them disappear?" Bob's voice cracks in the middle, sporadically skyrocketing in pitch. Water might do him good, but...damn, the fridge is by the bathroom. 

"I'll teach you, eventually," your voice isn't doing much better; you can hardly get it above a whisper. "I wanna see them on you for a little longer first."

His eyes roll, shaking his head all the while. Almost like he expected you to say that. But he doesn't call you out on it, content to tilt his head down and shut you up instead. Swollen lips crashing together, lazily tangling. A small explosion would be less messy, tongues licking into each other's mouths and teeth clacking so hard that your even bones recoil at the sensation. 

...but there's pressure on your shoulder, and you're rolling onto your back, his comfortable weight settling on top of you. Half hard against your thigh. 

"Satisfied?" You murmur, though you suppose you already know the answer to that.

His lips curl into a smile. Devilish, even. "No."

You're beginning to think you've swapped roles in this relationship.

[honeyhae-svt]

🎮One Between Two🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: explicit content (18+): includes detailed smut, kissing, cuddling, soft domestic intimacy, polyamorous dynamic: reader x jeonghan x wonwoo in a consensual relationship, fluff overload: this is tooth-rottingly sweet, light teasing and humor between jeonghan and wonwoo, some light language (wonwoo’s deadpan sarcasm might slip in), and non-canon ending (i guess?) DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ smut warnings: kissing, threesome(?), oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex). wc: 15,655 ♪ playlist ♪: falling for you (SEVENTEEN), euphoria (jungkook - BTS), lover (taylor swift), candy (baekhyun), everything (michael bublé), day 1 (HONNE), love me like that (sam kim). a/n: we finally reach the story at its peak ! thankyou for everyone who has been with me 'til the very end ! please enjoy the last chapter of the story :]

07

You hadn't seen Jeonghan all day, and while the ache of his coldness still lingered, Wonwoo's quiet comfort had been a balm to your frayed nerves. He'd texted you after work, insisting on taking you out for dinner, just something casual to lighten your mood.

"Pick whatever you want," Wonwoo said, sliding the menu toward you. His easy smile was like sunlight filtering through a storm, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relax.

The two of you settled into a quiet rhythm—small jokes, a few shared laughs, and the soft buzz of the diner around you. It was nice. Normal. But that fragile calm was shattered the moment you looked up and saw Jeonghan walking in.

He wasn't alone.

The woman on his arm was stunning, her laugh bright and effortless as she whispered something to him. Jeonghan's hand rested lightly on her waist, and his smile—sharp, confident, devastating—was one you hadn't seen in days. It was like watching a master at work, except now, the charm wasn't aimed at you.

Your heart sank, and you didn't realize you were gripping your fork too tightly until Wonwoo's voice pulled you back.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning forward, his eyes flicking between you and the new arrival. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile, but you knew it didn't reach your eyes. "Yeah. Totally fine."

Wonwoo glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Jeonghan and his date. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable. "We can leave if you want."

"No," you said firmly, your voice steadier than you felt. "We're staying."

It was a bold decision, one you regretted the second Jeonghan's gaze landed on you. His expression flickered for just a moment—surprise, maybe something else—but he quickly schooled his features into that same detached indifference you'd grown used to.

But what you hadn't prepared for was the deliberate way he led his date right past your table, pausing just long enough to acknowledge Wonwoo with a casual nod.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice like silk stretched too thin. His eyes didn't even glance your way. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Jeonghan," Wonwoo replied evenly, his tone polite but laced with tension.

The air between them crackled, an unspoken challenge hanging in the space between their words. You could feel it, thick and suffocating, but Jeonghan seemed utterly unfazed as he turned to his date with that same dazzling smile.

"Let's grab a seat," he said to her, his voice softening just enough to make your stomach twist.

You watched them walk away, your appetite vanishing as quickly as your resolve. Wonwoo's hand found yours under the table, his grip firm and reassuring, but it did little to soothe the storm brewing inside you.

Later That Night

Wonwoo insisted on walking you home, and for once, you didn't argue. The quiet streets were a welcome reprieve from the chaos in your head, but the tension between you and Wonwoo was impossible to ignore.

"You don't have to pretend," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. "I know seeing him hurt."

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Wonwoo's eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to lie to me," he said quietly. "I get it. I do. But you need to figure out what you really want—because this?" He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "I can't keep being your safe option."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. "That's not what this is," you protested, but even as you said it, doubt crept into your voice.

Wonwoo shook his head, his expression softening. "You don't have to explain. Just... think about it, okay?"

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

Jeonghan.

He stood a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his expression unreadable. For a moment, none of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on all of you.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Jeonghan said finally, his tone cool but not unkind. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safe."

Wonwoo's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything, his gaze flicking between you and Jeonghan.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. The two men you cared about most in the world were standing in front of you, and for the first time, you realized just how impossible this situation had become.

Back in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You sat on the edge of your bed, your phone buzzing with unread messages, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at them.

Wonwoo had texted you first, something simple and kind: "Let me know if you're okay. I'll always be here."

Jeonghan's message came hours later, shorter and colder: "We need to talk."

You stared at the screen, your chest tight. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw your phone across the room and pretend none of this was happening. But instead, you just sat there, the weight of their words pulling you down like anchors.

The confrontation you'd been dreading didn't wait until the next morning. Jeonghan was waiting for you at your desk when you returned from a meeting, his suit jacket draped over the back of a chair, tie slightly loosened like he'd made himself at home.

You froze in the doorway, your hands tightening around the folder in your grip.

"Jeonghan," you said, unsure whether it was a greeting or a warning.

"Welcome back," he said smoothly, his smile disarming, but his eyes held that familiar glint of mischief. "Busy day?"

"Busy enough," you replied cautiously, stepping inside. "What are you doing here?"

He tilted his head, as if the answer was obvious. "Waiting for you, of course."

You set the folder down on the desk, keeping your movements deliberate. "If this is about work—"

"Close the door," he interrupted, his tone light yet leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, but the weight of his gaze was enough to make you comply. The click of the latch sounded louder than it should have in the quiet room.

"I thought we didn't have anything to talk about," you said, forcing a casual tone even as your pulse quickened.

Jeonghan leaned back in the chair, his long fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "Oh, we don't. But I was curious about something."

"Curious about what?"

"About you." He stood then, crossing the room in a few leisurely steps until he was leaning against the edge of the desk, his body too close for comfort. "And Wonwoo."

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral. "What about him?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his smile teasing but his eyes sharper than ever. "Just wondering why you get so defensive whenever he comes up."

"I'm not defensive," you said quickly—too quickly.

His smile widened, and he let out a soft laugh. "Sure you're not." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. "So if there's really nothing going on, how about this—you and me. Dinner. Tonight."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Jeonghan straightened, feigning innocence as he smoothed his tie. "It's simple. If there's nothing between you and Wonwoo, then there's no reason you can't go out with me. Right?"

"Jeonghan..."

He held up a hand, cutting you off with a smile that was both charming and infuriating. "Relax, it's just a date. Unless..." His eyes sparkled with mock suspicion. "There is something you're not telling me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The way he was looking at you—like he already knew the answer—made it impossible to find the right words.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're terrible at hiding things, you know that?"

His teasing tone stung more than you cared to admit. Before you could think, you blurted something out.

And before you knew it, you had said something you shouldn't have.

You hadn't planned to see Wonwoo that night. You hadn't planned anything, really—you just walked, trying to clear your head, until you found yourself at his door.

He opened it after the first knock, his brows furrowing in concern as he took in your disheveled state.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

You nodded, even though it wasn't true. "Can I come in?"

He stepped aside without a word, letting you slip past him into the warmth of his apartment.

You sat on the couch, your hands twisting nervously in your lap as he joined you, sitting close enough for you to feel the heat of his body but not so close that it felt invasive.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

The words spilled out before you could stop them—a jumbled mess of apologies and explanations, of frustration and guilt and confusion. Wonwoo listened quietly, his expression unreadable, until you finally ran out of words.

When you looked at him, his gaze was steady, but there was something in his eyes that made your chest ache.

"You told him we're just... friends," he said slowly, his voice measured.

You froze, your stomach dropping. "Wonwoo, I didn't mean it like that—"

"But that's what you said," he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "Is that what you think we are?"

"No," you said quickly, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. "Of course not. I just... I panicked. I didn't know what else to say."

Wonwoo looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he regarded you.

"Friends with benefits, huh?" he said, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. "That's all this is to you?"

"No," you said again, your voice trembling. "It's more than that. You know it is."

"Do I?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because it doesn't feel like it when you can't even admit it to him. Or to yourself."

You didn't know what to say. The truth was messy and complicated, and you were terrified of what it might cost you.

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. "Maybe that's all we should be," he said quietly. "If that's what you want."

His words felt like a punch to the gut, and you reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against his arm.

"Wonwoo, please," you whispered, your voice breaking.

He looked at you then, his gaze softening just enough to make your heart ache.

"Then tell me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what this is. What I am to you."

You stared at Wonwoo, the weight of his question pressing down on you like a vice. What was this? What were you to him? What was he to you? The answers tangled in your throat, too raw, too uncertain to speak.

But his eyes—god, his eyes—bore into yours, waiting, needing something real, something true.

"I—" you started, the words trembling on your lips. "You're..."

The pause stretched too long, and you saw the flicker of hurt cross his face before he masked it, leaning back just slightly, as if to protect himself.

"Forget it," he said, his voice quiet but firm, like a door closing.

"No," you said quickly, reaching for his hand before he could pull away completely. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out."

"Then say it," he said, his voice sharper now, frustration bleeding through. "Say something. Because I can't keep doing this—guessing how you feel, pretending I'm okay with whatever scraps you decide to give me."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and exposed. He was right. You'd been selfish, hiding behind your fear, letting the safety of ambiguity shield you from making a choice. But that safety was gone now, stripped away by the raw honesty in his voice.

"I care about you," you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "More than I should. More than I've let myself admit."

Wonwoo's expression softened, his eyes searching yours for the truth in your words.

"But I'm scared," you continued, the confession tumbling out like a broken dam. "I'm scared of what this means, of what I might lose. Of hurting you. Of hurting him."

The mention of Jeonghan made Wonwoo's jaw tighten, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his hand coming up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"You're already hurting me," he said softly, his voice a painful mix of tenderness and resignation. "But I'd rather feel this than nothing at all."

Your breath hitched at his words, the weight of his vulnerability crashing into you.

"Wonwoo, I—"

He didn't let you finish. His lips were on yours before you could form another thought, the kiss fierce and desperate, like he was pouring all his frustration, all his longing, into you.

And you let him.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, trying to bridge the gap that had always been there between you.

But the moment didn't fade.

Instead, it deepened.

Wonwoo's hands slid down your sides, his touch firm but deep, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. He pressed you against the couch, his body warm and solid against yours, and you gasped into his mouth as the heat between you ignited, consuming every shred of hesitation you'd been clinging to.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with restraint, even as his fingers ghosted over the hem of your shirt.

You didn't answer. Instead, you tugged him closer, your actions speaking louder than words ever could.

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. The hesitation melted away, replaced by a hunger that matched your own. He lifted you effortlessly, guiding you into his lap as his lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake.

"You drive me crazy," he breathed, his hands exploring your curves with a deep feeling that made your head spin. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Your fingers tightened in his hair, a soft whimper escaping you as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your collarbone. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a promise—a confession of everything he felt but couldn't say.

He lifted your shirt over your arms as he started nipping on your breast, his hand on the other. Pampering you with his affection so he can distract you from the mess you were dealing with. If that helps, then he'd do anything to get things off your mind—even if it's just temporary. This isn't like Wonwoo at all. 

It wasn't long until you're whimpering on his lap as his cock twitches inside of you. 

You were moving, with him helping you hump on him.

Wonwoo always had a way of getting you all breathless and... Naked.

You shifted, your arms around his neck as you kiss him. Not long, you got exhausted and Wonwoo had to take over. He took you to his room, cock stilled inside you as he drops you onto his bed—gently but urgent. He moved his hips to yours, kissing your lips all the way as his tongue brushes against your soft breasts. He can never get enough of you.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, his name a plea, a prayer, as your bodies moved in perfect synchronicity, the tension between you showing in the most intimate of ways.

"You're fucking perfect..." He muttered as he moved a little rougher than he intended to, his cock swarming in and out of your cunt. 

His hand supported the back of your head to make you feel less tired and assured as he kisses your lips. His kisses were possessive and fast as his tongue finds yours. 

When the two of you meet the ends of bliss, he cums all over you, painting your walls as you followed soon after, creaming all over his cock.

And for a moment, nothing else mattered.

Not the tangled web of emotions you'd woven, not the uncertainty of what came next.

It was just you and him, lost in a world of your own making, where every touch was a revelation, and every kiss was a declaration of the feelings you'd both been too afraid to voice.

Wonwoo had that soft spot that only showed when it came to you. He was never like this with anyone. You were simply too precious for him that he's suddenly afraid of losing you—scared of getting you off his hands. 

You had his heart locked up and you didn't even know it. 

But now, having you in his arms while the two of you just stay in the hot waters of the tub he had in his house, everything suddenly felt temporary—at least for him. 

You turned to face him with your face all steamy, and you looked breathtaking as ever. Your arms found his neck as you leaned closer to hug him. His heart almost melted.

He held you closer, as you whispered sweet nothings to him. But suddenly, he just couldn't find those sweet genuine smiles of yours. It was given as a reflection of how hard things have been going for you. And he'd die for you just so you can find yourself at peace again.

"Use me all you want," he broke the silence. "I'll always be here no matter what." 

You almost cried, biting your lips it almost bled. You hugged him tightly, too tightly that he pulled you even closer. He reached for your cheeks, cupping it before crashing his lips onto yours again. It was urgent, hectic, and was messy. But that didn't stop him from doing anything else.

Days have passed. It has been gloomy for you that even your viewers noticed whenever you were streaming. But their concern was making your heart a little lighter. 

Personal life has always been separated from your gaming life. But right now, your lips kept slipping, suddenly spilling a tea you shouldn't even say.

Recently, youve only been streaming with either Vernon, Seungkwan, Hoshi, or Mingyu. 

Who knew things would change just because of the stupid context "Love"? You blamed all the human feelings for eveything that has happened.

It was a Thursday afternoon when it finally broke. You were sitting at your desk, staring at the screen in front of you, but not really seeing it. Your thoughts kept spiraling back to Jeonghan and Wonwoo, to what you were doing, to what you wanted to do, but couldn't.

The door to your office creaked open, and your stomach flipped as Jeonghan stepped inside. He didn't bother knocking—he never did—but the way he closed the door behind him with deliberate care made your heart race.

"What now?" you asked, unable to keep the irritation out of your voice.

Jeonghan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing his arms and letting his gaze sweep over you like he was sizing you up. "You look stressed," he said finally, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I wonder why," you muttered, leaning back in your chair.

His smirk deepened. "Relax. I'm not here to scold you... much."

"Then why are you here?"

Jeonghan tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Oh, just wanted to see how my favorite coworker is doing."

You shot him a look, unimpressed. "Cut the small talk, Jeonghan. What do you want?"

He straightened, his playful demeanor softening into something more serious. "Fine. Let's skip to the point." He met your gaze, and there it was—that flicker of intensity that made it impossible to look away. "You and Wonwoo."

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. "What about us?"

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained deceptively light. "You're not very good at hiding things, you know. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you... It's cute, really."

"Jeonghan—"

"Don't worry," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm not here to pry. In fact, I've got a proposal."

You blinked, caught off guard. "A proposal?"

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that teasing, honeyed tone that always left you on edge. "If there's really nothing going on with him, how about you prove it?"

Your eyes narrowed. "Prove it how?"

"Go out with me."

The words hung in the air, and you stared at him like he'd just suggested robbing a bank. "What?"

Jeonghan grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You heard me. Dinner. Tonight."

"Jeonghan, this isn't—"

"Let me guess," he cut you off, his tone turning playfully accusatory. "You're about to come up with some excuse. Busy schedule? Too tired? Or maybe..." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "You're worried Wonwoo might not like it."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. His grin widened.

"Thought so," he said, stepping closer until he was leaning just slightly over you, his presence overwhelming. "So what's it going to be? Dinner with me, or another round of dodging questions you don't want to answer?"

You clenched your fists, your pride prickling at his audacity. "Fine," you snapped, standing abruptly. "Dinner it is. But only because I'm tired of you acting like you've got me all figured out."

Jeonghan's expression softened into something more genuine, though the smugness never fully left his face. "Looking forward to it." He stepped back, giving you space, but his voice turned teasing again as he reached for the door. "Oh, and wear something nice. I don't settle for half-effort, you know."

Before you could respond, he slipped out of the room, leaving you flustered, irritated, and strangely... intrigued.

The restaurant Jeonghan chose was exactly what you'd expect from him—classy but not overly extravagant, with dim lighting, soft music, and a menu that probably didn't have prices listed. You sat across from him, your fingers toying with the edge of your napkin as he ordered for the both of you, exuding the effortless charm that made people fall for him so easily.

"I could've ordered for myself, you know," you said, raising an eyebrow as the waiter walked away.

"I know," he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "But I wanted to see if I got it right."

"And if you didn't?"

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Then I'd have something to tease you about for the rest of the night."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. The banter was easy, familiar, and you hated how quickly it chipped away at your defenses.

Dinner passed in a blur of conversation and subtle glances, the tension between you two growing with every lingering look and accidental brush of fingers. By the time you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air felt charged, and you weren't sure if it was the wine or Jeonghan's presence that had your head spinning.

"You're quiet," Jeonghan said as he walked beside you, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

"I'm just... thinking," you replied, looking ahead.

"Dangerous habit," he teased, bumping his shoulder against yours lightly. "What's on your mind?"

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to him. His expression was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes—something that told you he wasn't as nonchalant as he seemed.

"Why me?" you asked finally, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Jeonghan stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "What do you mean?"

"You could've asked anyone to dinner. You didn't have to..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze.

"I didn't have to what?" he prompted, his voice soft but insistent.

"Push this," you finished, gesturing between the two of you.

Jeonghan took a step closer, his hand brushing against yours. "Maybe I didn't want just anyone," he said simply.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing. Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he tilted his head toward the street.

"Come on," he said, his voice lighter. "Let's go."

"To where?"

"You'll see."

Jeonghan's home was exactly what you'd imagined: clean, stylish, and a little too perfect, like it had been lifted straight from an interior design magazine. You've been to his house before, but this one, it's a different one. You barely had time to take it all in before he was leading you to the living room, his hand resting lightly on your back.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, motioning to the couch.

You sat down, feeling all the suddenly uncharacteristically out of place. The air between you was heavy, and you weren't sure if it was the wine, the dim lighting, or the way Jeonghan was looking at you that made your skin tingle.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting beside you, close enough that your knees brushed.

"I'm fine," you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

Jeonghan didn't say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, and it made your breath catch.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You didn't. It always had to be like this.

The first kiss was soft, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, his hand cupped your cheek, and the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the couch, his body hovering over yours as his hands roamed, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch, every kiss felt like a question, and your answers came in the way you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck.

"Yes," you breathed, the word slipping out without hesitation.

And with that, the tension that had been building between you for what felt like forever finally snapped. Jeonghan was everywhere—his touch, his scent, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction, until you were completely undone and naked beneath him.

Jeonghan had laid you gently on the soft, white mattress as his kisses to your neck become more heated, leaving his love bites all over the sensitive skin as if he knows what and where to kiss.

His hands did the same, gripping your breasts, thighs, name every sensitive spot you know, and he knows it.

He slipped two fingers in and was surprised—impressed it slipped in easily. He loves how wet and open you are for him. "So wet, for me?" Jeonghan teases as he pulls in and out with you squirming underneath him. He loves you, the way your vulnerable under him, looking pretty as he messes you up. 

You moan loudly, and that's how he loves it. Your hands grip his shirt too tightly he starts to unbutton and undress himself for you. 

He kisses your lips as if taking a shot full of love. The way he swallowed your muffled moans was intoxicating. He takes his time exploring you like he has before. Every touch, kiss felt wrong. But Jeonghan's touches were enough to blur your thoughts, sending you back to the bitter but sweetest reality.

"I can't lose you," was what he whispered, and it was enough to send you shivers down your spine. 

Jeonghan's fingers were dipped deep inside your cunt as you clench around him, and finally, you cum soak and hot through his fingers. He licks them before he aligns his cock on your pussy before entering you completely slowly but surely. 

He snaps his hips onto yours as you scream out his name. Jeonghan pins your arms over your head, his fingers intertwined with your as his head falls on your shoulders, his thrusts increasing its speed. 

You hold onto his hand, his cock entering you in and out in the most blissful way, enough to make you whimper his name. 

The room was filled with your lustful cries and skin-to-skin contacts, making the night long and... Loud but sweetly slow.

When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together on the couch, the room silent except for the sound of your breathing. Jeonghan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and for once, you didn't feel the weight of questions or doubts pressing down on you.

"You okay?" he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Yeah," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

Jeonghan smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

You hadn't expected things to move this fast, but when you woke up to a text from Wonwoo saying, "We need to talk. Tonight," your stomach twisted in anticipation. Wonwoo wasn't the type to be vague unless it really mattered.

The evening came too quickly. When you opened the door, Wonwoo stood there, hands in his pockets, wearing that casual but disarming look that always made your heart skip.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight you couldn't quite place.

You stepped aside, letting him in. The familiar scent of him wrapped around you as he passed by, but you noticed how he didn't meet your eyes right away.

"Talk," you said, leaning on the counter, trying to sound steady despite the knot in your chest.

Wonwoo hesitated, running a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you rarely saw. "I've been thinking a lot lately," he began, his voice lower than usual. "About streaming, about us... about everything."

You folded your arms, unsure where this was going. "And?"

He exhaled sharply, like he'd been holding it in for days. "I think I'm done with it. At least for now."

Your brows shot up in surprise. "Done? With streaming?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, but his tone was anything but casual. "I've never liked all the attention anyway. I just wanted to play games, have fun... but now it feels like it's not mine anymore. It's everyone else's." He glanced at you, his eyes softening. "And I don't want that for you either. You're caught in the middle of this mess—me, Jeonghan, the fans... all of it. It's not fair to you."

"Wonwoo..." Your voice trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

He took a step closer, his hands brushing against yours. "I'm not saying I'm giving it up forever. But right now, I want to be here for you. No distractions. No streams. Just... us."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn't the teasing, sarcastic Wonwoo you were used to. This was him, raw and unfiltered, laying it all out.

"You don't have to do that," you whispered, your throat tight. "You've worked so hard for this."

He smiled faintly, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And I'm willing to work harder for what matters more."

You stared at him, speechless. There was no witty comeback, no sarcastic quip that could deflect the sincerity of his words. All you could do was nod, the lump in your throat refusing to go away.

Jeonghan wasn't distant. If anything, he was still Jeonghan—unpredictable, frustratingly charming, and always one step ahead. But he was careful, too. He knew how to give you space without making you feel abandoned. And somehow, that was worse.

He'd still show up at work with that easygoing smile, cracking jokes like nothing had changed. But his gaze lingered longer now, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.

So when he showed up unannounced one night, leaning against your doorway with his hands in his pockets, it shouldn't have surprised you. But it did.

"Jeonghan?" you asked, blinking.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Expecting someone else?"

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let him in. "What do you want?"

He walked in like he owned the place, his usual air of confidence making your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

"I've been thinking," he said, his tone light, but there was an edge to it. "About us."

You froze. "Jeonghan, I don't think—"

He cut you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Relax. I'm not here to pick a fight. I just..." He trailed off, his expression softening as he looked at you. "I just want to understand."

"Understand what?" you asked quietly.

"This," he said, gesturing between you. "You and me. You and Wonwoo. You're acting like you have to choose, but... I don't think you even know what you want."

His words stung because they were true.

"Jeonghan, it's not that simple," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It never is," he replied, stepping closer. "But I'm not going anywhere. I need you to know that. I'm here, whether you figure this out tomorrow, next week, or next year."

You stared at him, your chest tightening. "Why?"

He smiled then, that infuriatingly calm smile that made you want to scream and melt at the same time. "Because you're worth it."

His words hung between you, and for a moment, the world stopped. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. But Jeonghan didn't seem to mind. He just stood there, his presence a steady reminder that, no matter how messy things got, he wasn't giving up on you.

Not yet.

You weren't expecting the night to spiral the way it did. It started innocently enough—Seungkwan coaxed you into coming over with promises of a chill evening filled with karaoke and snacks, just like old times. But somewhere between the third glass of wine and a round of ill-advised shots, everything unraveled.

Seungkwan was tipsy but still his usual lively self, cracking jokes and commanding the mic. Hoshi, however, stayed seated off to the side, his eyes flicking to you every now and then with a quiet, worried intensity.

It wasn't like you to let loose this much. And Seungkwan wasn't one to miss the signs.

"Y/N," he called, his voice cutting through the haze of music and laughter. It was softer than usual, more serious. "What's going on? You've been... off lately. Talk to me."

You blinked at him, the alcohol buzzing in your veins making everything feel surreal. The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"I'm falling apart, Seungkwan," you said, laughing bitterly. "And I don't think you even know half of it."

That got his attention. He leaned forward, setting his drink down as his playful expression melted into concern. "Then tell me," he urged. "We're not letting you sit there and spiral alone."

You hesitated, but the weight you'd been carrying was too much to hold back anymore.

"It's them," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Jeonghan and Wonwoo. One minute they act like I'm nothing, and the next, it's like I'm their whole world. I don't know how to keep up. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Seungkwan frowned, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. Hoshi, who had been silent until now, leaned in slightly, his sharp gaze softening.

"Then why are you letting them do this to you?" Seungkwan asked gently.

"I'm not letting them," you shot back, though your voice cracked. "I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I even want to stop it. I—" You paused, shaking your head as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "I love them both. And it's tearing me apart."

The room fell into a heavy silence, save for the faint hum of the karaoke machine. Seungkwan exchanged a quick look with Hoshi, one of those unspoken conversations that only close friends could have.

"Alright," Seungkwan said, breaking the quiet. "Let's settle this."

You blinked at him, confused. "Settle what?"

"Let's see who actually cares," he said, pulling out his phone. "I'll call Jeonghan. Hoshi can text Wonwoo. We'll see who shows up first. No excuses, no games."

"What?" You stared at him, horrified. "You're not seriously going to—"

"Oh, I absolutely am," he interrupted with a smirk, though his eyes held an edge of seriousness. "If they're worth your time, they'll come. And if they don't? Well, then you have your answer."

Before you could protest, Seungkwan had already pressed dial, and Hoshi was tapping away on his phone. Your stomach churned, the weight of what they were doing sinking in.

The ten minutes that followed felt like an eternity. The alcohol in your system dulled the edges of your anxiety, but it couldn't erase it. And then, the doorbell rang.

Seungkwan's face lit up with mischief as he sprang to his feet. "Contestant number one," he announced, heading for the door.

When he opened it, Jeonghan was standing there, his expression unreadable. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and something flickered in his gaze—concern, maybe even guilt. He stepped inside without a word.

"Y/N," he said quietly, crossing the room to crouch in front of you. "What happened?"

Your throat tightened, and you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm fine," you mumbled, though your voice betrayed you.

"You're not," he said, his tone softer now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Talk to me."

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again.

Hoshi grinned as he glanced at his phone. "Wonwoo," he said simply.

When Wonwoo stepped inside, his gaze immediately found yours. His brow furrowed as he took in your tear-streaked face and Jeonghan's presence by your side. The tension in the room thickened.

"I'm here," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but laced with urgency. "Are you okay?"

Jeonghan rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned to face Wonwoo. The air between them crackled with unspoken rivalry.

"She's fine," Jeonghan said coolly, though the way he hovered near you said otherwise.

Wonwoo's jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y/N, what's going on? Why are you like this?"

The weight of their stares was too much. You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you finally broke. "Because I love you both, okay? And I don't know what to do about it!"

The room fell deathly silent.

Jeonghan's usually composed demeanor faltered, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Wonwoo, on the other hand, looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

"I didn't want this," you continued, your voice trembling. "I didn't want to fall for both of you, but I did. And now I'm stuck. I don't know how to choose, and I'm scared—scared that if I pick one of you, I'll lose the other forever."

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N..." he began, but his voice trailed off. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

Wonwoo stepped closer, his expression softening as he crouched beside you. "You don't have to figure this out tonight," he said quietly. "But you can't keep tearing yourself apart over this. Let us help you."

You looked between them, your heart aching. You wanted to believe his words, but deep down, you knew this was only the beginning.

Seungkwan and Hoshi stood off to the side, watching silently. For once, even Seungkwan didn't have a joke to lighten the mood.

The night had started with laughter, but it ended with a truth none of you were ready to face.

After the bombshell of your drunken confession, a heavy silence settles over the room, stretching between you, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo. Seungkwan and Hoshi exchange uneasy glances, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation, but they wisely retreat, leaving the three of you alone to navigate the emotional fallout. The weight of your words lingers in the air like a storm cloud, thick and impossible to ignore.

You're not sure when the idea began to form in your mind. Perhaps it's the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or maybe it's the stark realization that you can't choose. You can't bear the thought of losing either Jeonghan or Wonwoo—not now, not ever. Deep down, your heart knows what you've been avoiding all along: it doesn't have to be just one.

Despite the tension crackling between the three of you, you somehow end up outside in the cool night air. Jeonghan leans casually against his car, his eyes closed as he takes a slow, measured breath. Wonwoo stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set in quiet thought. None of you speak at first, the silence stretching painfully long.

It's Wonwoo who finally breaks it, his voice quieter than usual but firm. "We need to figure this out."

Jeonghan's eyes flicker open, locking onto Wonwoo's. There's something unreadable in his gaze—hesitation, confusion, maybe even anger. But there's also a flicker of something dangerous, something bold. "I agree," Jeonghan says evenly. "But we're not treating this like a game."

Wonwoo's lips twitch into a smirk, though it carries a dark edge. "So what, then? We leave her alone to figure it out on her own? Pretend like none of this matters?"

Jeonghan's jaw tightens, and his voice sharpens. "That's not what I said. But I'm not rushing into something that could hurt her even more. She's confused—"

You take a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm not confused," you interject, your voice trembling but resolute. "I'm scared. But I know what I want."

Both men turn to you, their gazes intense, waiting. The words catch in your throat, but you force them out. "I want you both. I can't pick. I'm sorry, but I can't."

Jeonghan pushes off the car, exhaling sharply. He glances at Wonwoo, a hint of disbelief coloring his features. "So, what now? Are you seriously suggesting we share her?"

Wonwoo doesn't flinch. "Why not?" he says simply. "You and I both care about her. She's not some prize to fight over, Jeonghan. She's part of both our lives, and we've been acting like we don't know it."

Jeonghan stares at him, his expression shifting from shock to something more thoughtful. A humorless chuckle escapes him. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Wonwoo's gaze doesn't waver. "I've been serious for a while. We've been dancing around this, and I'm tired of pretending. She wants us both, and I'm not going to act like that's not real."

For a moment, Jeonghan says nothing, his attention drifting to you. His gaze softens, though his words remain cautious. "This isn't how I imagined things... but maybe you're right. It's messy, but what choice do we have?"

The tentative understanding between the two men feels fragile, like a thread stretched too thin. But it's there, and for the first time, the tension seems to ease.

Jeonghan turns to you fully, his eyes sharp but tinged with vulnerability. "You really want this? Both of us?"

You nod, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you. "Yes. I know it's not fair, and it's not simple, but I want both of you. I can't choose. I won't."

Wonwoo steps closer, his voice dropping lower. "Then we need to make this work, but it has to be real. No more games, Y/N. No lies. We have to be honest with each other, all of us."

Jeonghan joins him, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence. "This isn't some fantasy," he says, his tone serious. "It's not going to be perfect. But if we're doing this, we're all in. No second-guessing, no turning back."

You swallow hard but nod. Relief washes over you, mingled with fear and hope. "I'm in this with you both. But I need to know... that you're both okay with this. That you're not doing it because you feel sorry for me."

Jeonghan's lips curve into a faint smirk, his familiar teasing edge returning. "What do you think, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo's gaze doesn't waver as he looks at you, his expression dark and unreadable. "I'm in," he says softly. "For you, Y/N. I'm all in."

Jeonghan places a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle. "Then we'll figure this out together. It won't be easy, but we'll make it work. Just... no more running, alright?"

You nod, tears pricking your eyes as a strange, fragile hope takes root in your chest. This wasn't what you had expected, but somehow, it feels like the start of something real—messy, complicated, and raw, but undeniably yours.

You wake up groggy but surprisingly refreshed. The events of last night come rushing back, and you half expect to be greeted with awkward silence or heavy stares. But instead, when you shuffle into the living room, still in Seungkwan's borrowed sweatshirt, you're met with the smell of coffee and the sight of Jeonghan and Wonwoo quietly talking.

Jeonghan looks up first, his smile soft but mischievous. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

Wonwoo snorts, sliding a cup of coffee across the table toward you. "You were out like a light. We almost thought you'd never wake up."

You groan, plopping down onto the couch and cradling the mug. "Don't remind me. I'm never drinking that much again."

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "You say that every time, though."

You shoot him a look but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Shut up, Hannie."

Wonwoo leans back in his seat, his expression softer than usual. "We should talk," he says, his tone calm but sincere.

Your stomach flips, but before you can spiral into panic, Jeonghan chimes in, his voice surprisingly light. "Don't worry, no drama this time. We just want to make sure we're all... on the same page."

You nod slowly, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. "Okay," you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Wonwoo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We meant what we said last night. About making this work. But we also realized..." He hesitates, glancing at Jeonghan for support.

Jeonghan picks up where he left off, his voice unusually gentle. "We realized we haven't been making things any easier for you. If anything, we've been selfish—fighting over you instead of being there for you. And we want to change that."

You blink, your chest tightening at their words. "I... I don't know what to say," you admit.

Jeonghan smiles, that familiar spark of teasing returning to his eyes. "You don't have to say anything. Just... maybe don't get drunk and confess your love for us in front of Seungkwan and Hoshi again."

You groan, burying your face in your hands as Wonwoo chuckles quietly. "Oh my god, I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Absolutely not," Jeonghan says, his grin widening.

Wonwoo's expression softens again, his voice lowering. "But seriously... we're here for you. No matter what."

You peek out from behind your hands, meeting their gazes. For the first time in what feels like forever, the tension is gone, replaced by something lighter. Something warmer.

And as the three of you sit there, laughing and teasing like old times, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. It's not going to be easy, but maybe—just maybe—you can make this work after all.

It started innocently enough. Or so you thought.

When Seungkwan invited you over for a "relaxing game night," you foolishly believed him. Of course, he conveniently forgot to mention that Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon would also be there. By the time you arrived at his place, Hoshi was already setting up snacks, and the two men you were desperately trying not to think about were seated on opposite sides of the couch, a safe but glaringly obvious distance apart. Mingyu was lounging on the armchair, flipping through a magazine with the kind of carefree attitude only he could pull off. And Vernon? Well, he was eating snacks in the corner, casually looking like he had nothing to do with the chaos about to unfold.

"Ah, you're here!" Seungkwan beamed, practically dragging you inside. "Now the fun can really start."

You hesitated at the doorway, your gaze flickering between Jeonghan's easy smile and Wonwoo's quiet nod of acknowledgment. Something about their presence together felt... combustible, but you pushed the thought aside. You were here to have fun. Totally chill, non-dramatic fun. Right?

"Sit, sit!" Seungkwan ushered you onto the couch—right in the middle of Jeonghan and Wonwoo. You froze, hyperaware of how close their knees were to brushing yours.

Mingyu, sensing the awkward energy in the room, chimed in from his chair. "If you need a distraction, I've got a full buffet of snacks over here."

You gave him a grateful look, but it didn't help. You were already sitting too close to the two men who made your heart race in completely different ways.

Hoshi, sensing the awkward energy in the room, clapped his hands together. "Alright, first game: Charades!"

Charades started out harmless enough, with Hoshi miming a bird and Seungkwan pretending to be a dramatic fainting prince. But then Seungkwan upped the ante.

"Jeonghan, your turn!" he said, his grin far too mischievous for comfort. He handed Jeonghan a card, and you watched as the older man's eyes lit up with amusement.

Jeonghan stood, rolling his shoulders like an actor preparing for a big scene. Then he got down on one knee, placed a hand over his chest, and—with exaggerated flair—pretended to confess his love.

The room erupted in laughter, but your face burned as Jeonghan's gaze lingered on you just a second too long. "Did I nail it?" he asked, smirking as he returned to his seat.

"A little too convincing," Hoshi teased, elbowing you. "What do you think?"

You sputtered, "I-I mean, it was fine!"

Mingyu looked entirely too entertained. "Yeah, I think Jeonghan might've just volunteered for 'Best Actor.'"

Wonwoo, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "Fine? I think he overdid it."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Overdid it? Or are you just jealous you didn't get the card?"

"Jealous?" Wonwoo scoffed, leaning back with an infuriatingly calm expression. "Not really my style."

Vernon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, jumped in from his snack corner. "Oh, please. We all know Jeonghan would do anything for the spotlight."

Seungkwan clapped his hands before things could escalate further. "Okay, okay! Next round! Wonwoo, you're up!"

If Jeonghan's over-the-top confession wasn't bad enough, Seungkwan somehow convinced Wonwoo to serenade the group during Truth or Dare. And not just any song. A love song.

"Oh, come on," Wonwoo protested, but Seungkwan's relentless enthusiasm won out. Grumbling, Wonwoo picked up Hoshi's acoustic guitar and strummed a few hesitant chords before starting to sing. His voice, low and rich, filled the room, and you couldn't stop the shiver that ran down your spine.

It was intimate, almost too much, as if the song was meant for you and you alone. By the time he finished, the room was dead silent.

"Well, damn," Jeonghan finally said, breaking the tension with a low whistle. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Vernon leaned in and whispered to Mingyu, "What do you think? Do we need to hire him for the next concert?"

Mingyu grinned. "I vote yes. But only if I get backup dancer status."

Wonwoo shrugged, his gaze flicking to you briefly before he set the guitar down. "It's just a song."

Just a song, sure. But the way your heart was pounding said otherwise.

The night wore on, filled with more games and Seungkwan's relentless teasing. But the final blow came when Seungkwan, clearly buzzed on soda and his own chaos, leaned forward and grinned wickedly.

"So," he said, his tone far too casual, "who's the better kisser? Jeonghan or Wonwoo?"

You choked on your drink, coughing violently as Hoshi burst out laughing. "Seungkwan, what the hell?!"

Jeonghan's eyes sparkled with amusement, while Wonwoo's expression darkened. "Really, Seungkwan?"

"What? It's a valid question!" Seungkwan said, feigning innocence. "We're all friends here, right?"

You buried your face in your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "I am not answering that."

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, leaned closer. "You don't have to say it. I think we all know the answer."

Wonwoo's jaw tightened. "Do we? Because I'm pretty sure we don't."

Vernon, with his usual deadpan humor, spoke up. "Honestly, I think everyone just needs a cold shower."

Mingyu practically snorted from his chair. "You're not wrong, man."

Hoshi, practically in tears from laughing, waved his hands. "Okay, okay! Let's call it a night before someone actually dies."

You groaned, vowing to never let Seungkwan plan anything ever again. But as you glanced between Jeonghan and Wonwoo, both of whom were now glaring at each other, you couldn't help but wonder: how the hell did your life get this complicated?

That evening, after everyone had left you alone with both Jeonghan and Wonwoo, the atmosphere shifts. It's quieter, more intimate, as the three of you settle on the couch. You're sandwiched between them, their presence comforting but charged with unspoken tension.

Jeonghan's hand brushes against yours, his fingers lingering before he takes your hand fully. You glance up, meeting his eyes. They're soft but searching, as if he's trying to read every thought running through your mind.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches, but you nod. His lips are warm and familiar, moving against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. When he pulls back, you're left staring at him, your thoughts a whirlwind.

Then, you feel Wonwoo's hand on your back, steady and grounding. You turn to him, and his gaze holds a quiet intensity. He doesn't ask, but his hesitation is clear, giving you the choice. When you lean toward him, his lips meet yours in a kiss that's different but no less meaningful. It's slower, deeper, like he's pouring every unspoken word into it.

When you pull back, you realize you're holding both their hands. The moment is electric, filled with a newfound understanding. They're not competing anymore. Instead, they're focused entirely on you.

Jeonghan's arms are steady as he lifts you off the sofa, cradling you effortlessly. His gaze never leaves yours, a quiet intensity in his eyes as he carries you toward the bedroom. You barely notice Wonwoo following behind until you feel his hands on you, tugging at the hem of your shirt as soon as Jeonghan sets you down on the edge of the bed.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan murmurs, his tone half a warning and half amusement, but he doesn't stop him.

Wonwoo works with quiet precision, pulling your shirt over your head in one swift motion, leaving you bare to their hungry eyes. You shiver under the weight of their attention, but before you can feel self-conscious, Jeonghan is there, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"You're perfect," he whispers against your mouth, his voice low and reverent, as if every word is a vow.

Wonwoo's hands glide over your shoulders, down your sides, his touch firmer, more deliberate. His lips trail along your neck, sending a jolt of heat through your body. "You're ours," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and possessive, making your pulse race.

Jeonghan pulls back just enough to catch your dazed expression, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Do you want this?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with a raw need.

You nod, breathless, your hands finding their way to Jeonghan's hair and Wonwoo's arm, pulling them closer. "Yes," you manage to say, the word barely above a whisper, but it's all they need.

Jeonghan smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips, before he leans in again, kissing you deeply. Meanwhile, Wonwoo's hands make quick work of the waistband of your pants, sliding them down with agonizing slowness, his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The bed dips as Jeonghan pushes you gently back, his lips never leaving yours, while Wonwoo's hands and lips continue their exploration. Every touch, every kiss is unhurried, as if they're taking their time memorizing every inch of you.

"You're stunning," Wonwoo murmurs, his voice thick with admiration, as he shifts to press kisses lower, his hands spreading warmth wherever they touch.

Jeonghan's hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, drawing a gasp from your lips. "She's perfect," Jeonghan agrees, his voice soft but filled with awe as he glances at Wonwoo, a rare moment of unity passing between them.

Wonwoo was already eating you out, Jeonghan swallowing every moan coming out from those pretty lips of yours. Wonwoo's tongue entered you and it made you arche your back just a little until Jeonghan puts you in place. You were practically breathless as Jeonghan's lips travel to your neck to leave more marks on you.

Never in your life would you have expected such an outcome like this. But before you could even process anything, Wonwoo was overstimulating you. You squirmed, but Jeonghan made sure to keep you in place.

"W- wait..." You cried out as you squirt for the second time. But Wonwoo doesn't stop. Your head fell on the pillow behind you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you whine and whimper.

They work in tandem, their movements coordinated and seamless, as if they've silently agreed to worship every part of you together. Jeonghan's lips claim yours again, his kiss slow and consuming, while Wonwoo's mouth and hands draw moans from you, the tension in the room thick and electric.

When Wonwoo finally pulls away from your soaked cunt, he puts his fingers in before you can even have any time to catch your breath. Jeonghan pulls away and watches the younger mess you up and do all the work. With your swollen lips, messy hair, and having Wonwoo mess you up was quite the sight for him. He wouldn't imagine anyone else do you like this, but why is he rock hard on seeing you in a state like this. 

Wonwoo wasn't very different from Jeonghan, you looked too hot and pretty being all vulnerable for them like this. It makes him want to give the whole world to you. 

You pant as Wonwoo's fingers enter you in and out fast, Jeonghan smirks beside you, holding your hands and watching your every reaction. It didn't matter if you looked pathetic being watched, it was this moment that had you distracted from everything.

Wonwoo was first to have his dick inside of your cunt, with your back facing him, whimpering as he humps himself into you. You were arched down on the bed, Jeonghan's thumb grazed your lips as you opened your mouth for him. He slowly shoves his cock in you until it reached your throat, almost making you gag, but with Wonwoo's hard thrusts behind you, your moans vibrated on Jeonghan's cock, making him grunt to the feeling. 

"Shit... She's fucking... Tight.." Wonwoo grunts as he feels your pussy clench around his cock. Jeonghan has his hand through your soft flocks, guiding your head, having you bob over him. 

"Are you gonna cum?" Jeonghan manages to let out. Wonwoo huffed, muttered a messy 'yes' as he blows a one final thrust before cumming, painting your walls beautifully with his hot load mixing with yours. 

Jeonghan follows right after, cumming into your mouth. You swallowed everything before falling down onto the bed, covering yourself up with the blanket nearby. Jeonghan holds his hand out to your head, brushing your hair with his fingers while Wonwoo grabbed a wet towel nearby. 

The older tugged at the blanket you were holding but you were holding onto it too tight as if your life had depended on it. "Oh come on, princess, come out, we'll just clean you up."

Wonwoo smiled before sitting at your side. "Are you alright, Y/N?" It's his tone that made you want to be eaten by the bed right then and there.

You shifted, catching your breath before replying a stubborn "I'll clean myself."

Jeonghan sighs softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, his touch featherlight as he watches you bury your face in the pillow. "Alright, princess, take your time," he murmurs, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the room moments ago. He doesn't push you, instead shifting to sit beside you while Wonwoo presses a damp towel against your shoulder, the warmth grounding you.

The silence between the three of you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with hesitation. Wonwoo leans down, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers, "We'll take care of you. You don't have to do anything else."

His words, so quiet and sincere, stir something deep inside you. Slowly, you loosen your grip on the blanket, letting it slip down as Jeonghan and Wonwoo exchange soft smiles. They aren't in a hurry—there's no rush to shatter the fragile, vulnerable intimacy that lingers in the room.

Jeonghan is the first to move, his hands gently guiding you to sit up. He wraps the blanket loosely around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. "You're beautiful like this," he whispers, his eyes soft and tender as they meet yours.

Wonwoo nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving your face. "We'll make this night unforgettable for you," he promises, his voice steady and full of conviction.

They take their time, helping you clean up and settle against the pillows before climbing into bed on either side of you. Jeonghan props himself up on one elbow, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, while Wonwoo presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, his warmth seeping into you.

"I think we broke her," Jeonghan teases lightly, his voice tinged with humor as he nudges you gently. The corners of his mouth curve into a smirk, but his eyes remain soft, a quiet adoration evident in his expression.

You manage a small laugh, the sound easing the tension in your chest. "You think?" you reply, your voice hoarse but laced with a teasing edge.

Wonwoo chuckles, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together. "Maybe we should slow down," he says, his tone warm and full of affection.

But Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath against your cheek. "Not unless she tells us to," he murmurs, his lips brushing over the corner of your mouth in a ghost of a kiss.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest, but not in a suffocating way. It's grounding, like they're anchoring you to them. You nod slowly, meeting their eyes. "I don't want this to end," you admit, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them.

Wonwoo smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It won't," he promises softly.

Jeonghan presses a kiss to your temple, his voice a low murmur against your skin. "Then let us show you just how much you mean to us."

The night unfolds in a blur of soft whispers and lingering touches, their movements unhurried, as if they're memorizing every detail of this moment. There's no rush, no urgency—only the quiet, steady rhythm of shared breaths and the warmth of their bodies pressed against yours.

They take turns holding you, their touches soothing and reverent, as if you're something precious, too delicate to be rushed. Jeonghan's lips trace over your collarbone, his hands warm against your skin, while Wonwoo's fingers weave through your hair, his voice low and steady as he murmurs sweet nothings that make your heart ache in the best way.

Hours pass, but it doesn't feel like enough. By the time exhaustion pulls at you, your body relaxed and your mind hazy, you're nestled between them, their arms wrapped protectively around you. Jeonghan presses a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "Sleep, princess," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room.

Wonwoo's hand rests over yours, his thumb brushing idly against your skin. "We're not going anywhere," he promises, his voice a soothing balm that eases you into sleep.

As you drift off, cocooned in their warmth, you realize that something has shifted—not just between them, but within you. There's no going back, but in this moment, you're not sure you'd want to.

The faint sound of keyboard clicks filled the cozy apartment, punctuated by the occasional hum of the game loading screen. You sat cross-legged on the couch, cradling a mug of tea as you watched Wonwoo focus intently on his monitor. His glasses rested low on his nose, and his hoodie sleeves were slightly pushed up, revealing the veins in his arms.

“Are you almost done?” you asked, your voice soft but impatient.

Wonwoo smirked without looking back. “Five minutes. I’m almost at the save point.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the cushions. “You’ve been ‘almost done’ for the last twenty minutes. If you’d told me this was going to turn into a date with your PC, I’d have stayed home.”

That earned a laugh from him, low and warm. “You are home,” he countered. “And besides, I remember someone saying they like watching me play.”

“I said I like playing with you,” you shot back. “Not being the third wheel to your Overwatch teammates.”

His head turned, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your stomach flip. “You know I can’t stream you. You’re too competitive. They’d think I was getting bullied live.”

You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it mid-air, laughing as he finally shut his game down. Wonwoo stretched, his movements unhurried as he made his way to the couch. He slouched beside you, his head resting on your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You want to play?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“No,” you replied, setting your mug down. “I want your undivided attention, gamer boy.”

“Undivided, huh?” He chuckled and shifted, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. “You’re demanding tonight.”

“I get you for six hours tops,” you teased, though there was no bite in your tone. “I have to make the most of it before Jeonghan steals me away again tomorrow.”

Wonwoo’s smile softened at the mention of Jeonghan, but there was no jealousy in his eyes—just a quiet understanding. “That’s fair,” he murmured. “But for now, I’m not letting you go.”

The next morning, Jeonghan was already dressed and sipping his coffee when you arrived at his office. He glanced up from his phone, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“You’re late,” he said, setting the phone down.

“I’m on time,” you corrected, placing the takeout bag on his desk. “And I brought breakfast, so maybe don’t start the day with complaints.”

Jeonghan opened the bag, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the pastries. “Fancy. Did Wonwoo pick these out?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s his favorite bakery,” Jeonghan replied with a shrug, biting into the croissant. “He’s got good taste. I can’t fault him for that.”

The playful edge in his tone made you squint at him. “What? No snarky comment about me spending the night there?”

“Why would I?” He leaned back in his chair, a casual air about him. “I got you all day. I’m not greedy.”

You raised a skeptical brow. “Not greedy? You called me three times yesterday to ‘check in.’”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, unrepentant. “What can I say? I miss you when you’re gone.” He reached across the desk, his fingers brushing yours. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

Later that evening, as you headed home, you were caught off guard by Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s playful conversation in the group chat.

Jeonghan: She didn’t text me back last night, so I assume you hogged her attention? Wonwoo: You got her all day. Don’t be greedy, hyung. Jeonghan: Touché. But I did buy her coffee yesterday. So, you owe me. Wonwoo: I’ll send you my leftover ramen.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you read their messages. Despite their differences, there was an unspoken balance between the three of you—a connection that somehow worked without tipping into chaos

The hum of Jeonghan’s suitcase wheels rolling across the marble floor broke the silence in the apartment. He paused at the doorway, turning back to you with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” he asked, adjusting the cuff of his blazer with meticulous care. His tone was calm, almost nonchalant, but the faint crease between his brows betrayed his unease.

You crossed the room to him, your hands deftly straightening his tie. “I’ll be fine, Jeonghan. It’s just a couple of days. Plus, Wonwoo’s around, so I won’t be lonely.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, though his gaze lingered on yours. “I’m not worried about that,” he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of you before the distance set in. “I just hate leaving when things are good.”

“You act like you’re gone for months.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but the look in his eyes made your chest tighten.

“Sometimes a few days is enough to miss what matters,” he replied softly. His words hung in the air, laced with meaning.

Your smile faltered for a moment before you pressed a kiss to his cheek, grounding the moment. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on your meetings, and I’ll focus on making sure Wonwoo doesn’t eat ramen every night.”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh, the crease in his brow finally easing. “Good luck with that. He’s stubborn.” He rolled his suitcase toward the door but stopped one last time, turning to face you.

“I’ll make it up to you when I’m back,” he promised, his voice quieter now, like he was speaking to himself as much as to you.

“Deal,” you said, watching as the door clicked shut behind him.

The apartment felt emptier in the silence that followed, the faint scent of Jeonghan’s cologne lingering in the air. You exhaled, pressing your palm to the closed door as a bittersweet ache settled in your chest. It wasn’t unusual for Jeonghan to leave, but the gaps he left behind always felt bigger than you expected.

The sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your thoughts. You grabbed it off the counter, smiling when Wonwoo’s name flashed on the screen.

Wonwoo: What time should I come over? You: now. i could use some company Wonwoo: On my way. Bring snacks? You: Obviously.

Half an hour later, you were curled up on the couch, a bag of chips balanced precariously between you and Wonwoo as he flipped through movie options on the TV.

“So,” he said, settling on an action flick, “Jeonghan’s off to be CEO of the year again?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “It’s just a couple of days.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t like being away from you. Not that I blame him.”

The casual way he said it sent a flutter through your chest, but you rolled your eyes to play it off. “You’re not going to get all sentimental on me, are you?”

Wonwoo smirked, reaching over to steal a chip. “Not my style.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the movie filling the room. But as the night wore on, you found yourself leaning into Wonwoo’s shoulder, his warmth seeping into you like a quiet reassurance.

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low, “he’s lucky I’m not the jealous type.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your lips quirking into a smile. “And why’s that?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, his dark eyes holding a glimmer of something unreadable. “Because sharing isn’t easy. But I think it’s worth it—for you.”

Your breath hitched for a second, and you quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. Wonwoo didn’t push the moment, though. He simply adjusted the blanket over your legs and went back to watching the movie, leaving you to sit with the weight of his words.

A few nights later, the soft click of keys echoed through Wonwoo’s small office. He was seated at his desk, his brows furrowed in concentration, the faint glow of his monitor illuminating his sharp features. The sight of him, so absorbed in his work, was oddly comforting—and yet you couldn’t help but feel the distance it created.

Leaning against the doorway, you crossed your arms with a playful smirk. “You know, I could’ve gone home if you were going to work all night.”

Wonwoo didn’t look up right away, his fingers still typing as he replied. “And let Jeonghan win? Not a chance.”

You laughed, stepping into the room. “It’s not a competition, Wonwoo.”

Finally, he glanced up, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Maybe not for you. But he gets you all day, and now I’m stuck with deadlines. Feels like the universe is playing favorites.”

Shaking your head, you placed a steaming cup of coffee next to his keyboard. “You’ll survive,” you teased, leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead. “But since you’re so busy, maybe I should let Jeonghan take the next night shift.”

Wonwoo groaned, his hands darting out to grab your waist before you could escape. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with mischief. In one fluid motion, he pulled you onto his lap, his arms locking firmly around you.

“Wonwoo!” you gasped, startled, but a laugh bubbled out as you found yourself face-to-face with him.

His dark eyes glimmered with amusement as he tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. “If I’m losing time to work, at least let me make the most of the time I do get.”

The warmth in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands instinctively rested on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he countered, his voice softening as his fingers traced gentle circles against your lower back.

Your cheeks warmed under his attention, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your nose against his before capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened as his hands tightened their hold on you. He kissed you like he’d been waiting all night for this moment—slow, deliberate, and unyielding.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, earning a quiet hum of approval from him. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet hum of his computer and the warmth of his embrace.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were slightly breathless. Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you, his lips quirking into that familiar, shy smile that always made your heart flutter.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You rested your forehead against his, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “I was planning to,” you murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Good,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Because Jeonghan’s already winning too much.”

You laughed softly, settling into his embrace as his arms wrapped around you securely. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he teased, the exhaustion in his expression melting away as he held you close.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mentioned work, deadlines, or Jeonghan. Instead, you stayed curled up together, savoring the quiet moments that belonged only to the two of you.

The following night, Jeonghan returned from a late meeting, his steps heavy with exhaustion. As he entered the dimly lit apartment, the sight of you curled up on the couch instantly melted away the day’s stress. A soft blanket was pulled around your shoulders, your head resting against the cushions as the faint glow of the TV flickered across your peaceful face.

For a moment, Jeonghan simply stood in the doorway, his tie slightly loosened and his briefcase still in hand. His gaze softened as he took in the scene, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

Quietly, he set his briefcase down and slipped off his jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. He walked toward you, his footsteps light, and knelt beside you. Reaching out, his fingers brushed against your cheek, feather-light, as if afraid to wake you.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with affection.

Your eyes fluttered open at his touch, and a sleepy smile graced your lips. “You work too much,” you murmured, your voice groggy yet teasing. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the couch.

Jeonghan sighed as he sat down beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, his scent familiar and grounding. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “It’s not forever,” he promised in a quiet murmur. “Just a busy week. But I’m glad you’re here. It makes coming home… easier.”

You nestled closer against his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Wonwoo said the same thing last night,” you muttered sleepily, your words muffled against him.

Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he gently ran his fingers through your hair. “That guy gets you all night and still complains about deadlines.”

“He doesn’t complain,” you countered with a small laugh, your hand sliding across his chest to playfully nudge him. “He just… misses me.”

Jeonghan’s arms tightened around you slightly, his voice dropping to a low, tender murmur. “So do I.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing against your skin as he added, “But seeing you happy makes it worth it. Even if it means sharing.”

You tilted your head up, your nose brushing his cheek as you gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“Sweet?” Jeonghan echoed, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Don’t tell Wonwoo that. He already thinks I’m too soft.”

You laughed softly, your fingers reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “I like you soft,” you murmured, leaning in to press your lips against his.

The kiss was gentle at first, slow and unhurried, but it quickly deepened as Jeonghan’s hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, his touch firm yet tender. He kissed you as if he were pouring all the words he couldn’t say into the moment—his longing, his gratitude, and the way you made him feel complete even after the longest of days.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing softly, your foreheads resting against each other. Jeonghan’s hand slid down to intertwine with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Stay like this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled, your fingers squeezing his hand lightly. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

Jeonghan sighed in contentment, pulling the blanket around the both of you as he leaned back against the couch. With you in his arms, the weight of the day seemed to disappear, replaced by the quiet, undeniable joy of having you by his side.

Despite their contrasting schedules, both Jeonghan and Wonwoo seemed to adapt effortlessly to the arrangement. When Jeonghan’s workload picked up, he would send short but thoughtful texts throughout the day to remind you he was thinking of you.

Jeonghan (text): Boardroom’s a nightmare. I hope Wonwoo’s treating you right tonight. You (reply): he ordered pizza and fell asleep halfway through the movie. typical. Jeonghan: Figures. Save the fun stuff for me when I’m back.

On the other hand, when Wonwoo was busy with work or projects, he had his own ways of showing affection. Whether it was a handwritten note on the fridge saying, “Missed you today. Eat something before your stream.” or a curated playlist of cozy tracks for your downtime, he always found a way to make you smile.

Sometimes, he’d include you in his streams—just not as Kitsunya. Instead, you’d appear off-camera or only partially revealed, sparking curiosity among his fans.

Wonwoo (on stream): “So… I have a guest tonight. She’s helping me test out this co-op game. Don’t judge her skills too harshly.” Chat: OMG IS THAT HER??? IS THAT KITSUNYA? You (off-camera, laughing): “Don’t hype me up. I’m just here to lose gracefully.” Chat: She sounds adorable! SHOW HER FACE PLS!!! Wonwoo (grinning): “Relax, guys. She’s shy. And she’s definitely not Kitsunya. Nope. Not at all.”

The stream would continue with playful banter between the two of you, while the chat exploded with speculation. You’d intentionally play poorly at the game just to hear Wonwoo’s deadpan remarks.

You: “Did I just fall into the same trap again?” Wonwoo: “Twice, actually. Impressive consistency.” You: “I’m just giving the monsters a chance.” Chat: THE CHEMISTRY OMG

Little did his fans know, the so-called “guest” was indeed Kitsunya. But neither of you confirmed it, leaving the internet buzzing with theories and fan edits of your clipped voice interactions.

And when both Jeonghan and Wonwoo were free? Those moments felt like a rare treat. Jeonghan would whisk you away for a rooftop dinner under the stars, taking his time to make you feel like the center of his world. Meanwhile, Wonwoo would spend an entire night curled up with you, teaching you how to play his favorite game—and stealing kisses whenever you "accidentally" paused.

In one particularly heart-fluttering moment, Wonwoo pulled you onto his lap mid-stream after you jokingly complained about how bad you were at his game.

You (laughing): “I give up. I’m hopeless. Just leave me here to fail in peace.” Wonwoo (pulling you closer): “Hopeless? Never. Just distracted.” His voice softened, meant only for your ears, as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

His viewers, of course, went wild.

Chat: DID HE JUST—??? WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Wonwoo (smirking at the camera): “Alright, enough distractions for tonight. Back to the game.”

Later, when the stream ended, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, his kisses slower and deeper as he murmured against your lips, “You’re my favorite player, no matter how bad you think you are.”

Jeonghan, ever the charmer, never seemed to mind the nights you spent with Wonwoo. He’d tease about it during the day when he wasn’t buried in meetings or reviewing contracts.

Jeonghan (texting): He didn’t hog you all night, did he? You need beauty sleep for our rooftop plans tomorrow. You: define “hog.” we mightve shared pizza and stayed up too late gaming Jeonghan: Tsk. I’ll forgive you this time. But only because you’re cute.

The balance wasn’t always perfect, but the unspoken understanding between the three of you made it work. For Jeonghan and Wonwoo, seeing you happy—whether laughing during a rooftop dinner or snuggled up during a co-op game—was worth every compromise.

While Jeonghan’s schedule often kept him busy, he made up for it with the most thoughtful and deliberate gestures. To him, every moment with you was an opportunity to make you feel cherished, whether it was during work or on your precious dates together.

When Jeonghan had a free afternoon, he would whisk you away from the office for lunch, insisting on a charming café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. He always pulled out your chair, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he leaned down to murmur, “Don’t tell anyone, but this is the highlight of my day.”

After a few bites, his foot would nudge yours playfully under the table, and his eyes would soften as he watched you sip your drink.

“You’ve got something here,” he’d say with a teasing smile, pointing to the corner of his lips. Before you could react, he’d reach over to gently swipe his thumb along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight. “Got it,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a tone that sent shivers down your spine.

Jeonghan was also a master of quiet intimacy. On days when the office workload wasn’t too demanding, he’d make excuses to linger near your desk. “I just need to review this,” he’d claim, pulling up a chair beside you. But the truth was, he simply liked being close to you, sneaking glances at your face when you were focused.

Sometimes, when no one was around, he’d lean in and press a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re too pretty to be working this hard,” he’d tease, brushing your hair back with a fond smile.

When Jeonghan planned a date, it was always an event. He’d show up to your place dressed impeccably, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and press a kiss to your cheek as he handed them to you.

“For the prettiest girl I know,” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes brimming with adoration.

That evening, he’d take you to a rooftop restaurant, the city lights twinkling below as soft music played in the background. Jeonghan’s attention was wholly on you, his phone tucked away, as he leaned forward on his elbows, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Tell me everything about your day,” he’d urge, his voice warm and inviting. And when you spoke, he’d listen intently, his smile growing with every word.

At some point during dinner, he’d reach across the table to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You know,” he’d begin, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “I think I’m a little jealous of Wonwoo.”

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“He gets to keep you all to himself at night,” Jeonghan murmured, his smile softening. “Meanwhile, I have to share you with the rest of the world during the day. Not very fair, is it?”

But there was no bitterness in his tone—only gentle affection and a touch of playful possessiveness.

Every now and then, when Jeonghan wasn’t swamped with meetings or traveling for work, he’d invite you over to his place for a quiet evening. Those nights felt like a bubble of warmth and safety, just the two of you curled up on the couch.

Jeonghan would insist on cooking dinner, even though his skills were… questionable at best.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked, peeking into the kitchen.

He turned to you with a wooden spoon in hand, a smudge of sauce on his cheek. “Absolutely not. You sit there and look pretty. This is my time to shine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but when dinner was finally ready, it turned out to be surprisingly delicious. Jeonghan smirked as you took a bite, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Told you I’m full of surprises.”

After dinner, he pulled you onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around both of you as he scrolled through movie options. But halfway through the film, he turned to you, his hand gently cradling your face.

“I’m not watching a single second of this,” he admitted, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “You’re too distracting.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a kiss so sweet and lingering it made your heart race. He pulled you closer, his hands tangling in your hair as he whispered between kisses, “You’re my favorite part of every day, you know that?”

Later, when you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, Jeonghan pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice soft and drowsy. “I’ll make us breakfast in the morning… or attempt to, at least.”

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him until you were nestled comfortably against his chest. His hands found your waist, gently guiding you to straddle his lap.

“You look so perfect like this,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. His eyes were soft as they roamed your face, lingering on your lips. “I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or just stare at you forever.”

Your cheeks flushed, and before you could respond, Jeonghan leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours. It started sweet and slow, his hands resting gently on your waist, grounding you in the moment. But as you kissed him back, his grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer.

His fingers trailed up your back, leaving a warmth in their wake, until one hand found its way to your hair. He tilted your head just enough to deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate tenderness that made your heart race.

When you pulled back slightly to catch your breath, Jeonghan’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “You make me forget about everything else—meetings, work, the world. It’s just you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, cupping his face in your hands. “Good,” you teased, running your thumb along his jawline. “You deserve a break from being Yoon Jeonghan, the ever-busy CEO.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest against your lower back, his touch warm and soothing. “And you deserve all my attention,” he murmured, kissing you again, this time with a little more urgency.

His lips moved against yours like he was savoring every second, his hands exploring your back in soft, languid strokes. When you shifted in his lap, you felt him smile against your mouth.

“Careful,” he teased, his voice playful but laced with something deeper. “You’re making it hard to focus on being a gentleman right now.”

You laughed softly, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “When have you ever been a gentleman?”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I’m always a gentleman.” But the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I’ll prove it,” he said, lifting you effortlessly as he stood up.

“Jeonghan!” you squealed, clinging to his shoulders.

He carried you to the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed before crawling in beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You know I’m completely whipped for you, right?” he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

You smiled, burying your face in his chest. “I might have noticed.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as you both settled into the comfort of each other’s presence. The kisses continued, each one sweet and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world.

And in that moment, with Jeonghan’s arms around you and his lips brushing against yours, it felt like you truly did.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of something… burning. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and followed the noise coming from the kitchen.

Jeonghan stood at the stove, wearing an apron over his pajama pants, waving a dish towel at a slightly charred pancake.

“I told you I’d make breakfast,” he said sheepishly when he noticed you. “I didn’t say it would be edible.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, walking over to wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Jeonghan turned in your arms, his smile as bright as the morning sun. “And you’re lucky I’m hopelessly in love with you,” he replied, stealing a quick kiss before you could roll your eyes at him.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the kitchen counter, phone in hand as he scrolled through his contacts. You were perched on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, flipping through a magazine, completely unaware of his plan.

“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan said with a smirk as the call connected, “what are you doing tonight?”

On the other end, Wonwoo’s voice was as calm and steady as ever. “Nothing much. Just reading. Why?”

“Come over,” Jeonghan said smoothly, glancing at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got someone here who’s been missing you.”

You looked up at him, furrowing your brows. “Who are you calling?”

Jeonghan gave you an innocent smile. “Oh, just someone who deserves to see you as much as I do.”

The knock on the door was soft, almost hesitant. Jeonghan opened it to reveal Wonwoo standing there, his usual calm demeanor masking the slight confusion on his face.

“You didn’t tell me she was here,” Wonwoo said, stepping inside and slipping off his coat.

Jeonghan smirked. “I thought I’d surprise you. Go on, she’s in the living room.”

When Wonwoo walked in, you froze for a second before your face lit up. “Wonwoo!” you said, scrambling off the couch to greet him.

He opened his arms just in time for you to crash into his chest, laughing softly as he wrapped you in a warm hug. “I missed you too,” he murmured, resting his chin on your head.

Jeonghan watched from the doorway, arms crossed and a fond smile on his lips. “Alright, don’t hog her all to yourself,” he teased, walking over to join you both.

Wonwoo chuckled, reluctantly letting you go. “I didn’t realize this was a group cuddle invitation.”

“Always is,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, pulling you back into his arms as he sat on the couch. “Now sit. We’re having a cozy night, and you’re not getting out of it.”

Oh my gosh, the perfect conclusion! Let’s make it as heart-melting as possible—soft, cozy, and full of love. 🥹 Here’s how it unfolds:

The three of you ended up tangled together on the couch, a big fluffy blanket draped over all of you. Jeonghan was leaning against the armrest with you curled up against his side, while Wonwoo sat at the other end, your legs draped over his lap.

The room was filled with quiet laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Jeonghan playfully poked at Wonwoo’s serious expression, and Wonwoo fired back with dry humor that made you giggle uncontrollably.

“Why do I feel like I’m the third wheel here?” Wonwoo teased, glancing at you and Jeonghan.

“Third wheel? Please,” Jeonghan said, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. “We’re a perfectly balanced triangle.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but his lips curved into a small smile. “If you say so, hyung.”

You looked between the two of them, your heart swelling with warmth. “I think it’s perfect,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of all the love you felt for them both.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently take your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Yeah, it is.”

Jeonghan leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “Couldn’t agree more.”

At some point during the night, the teasing subsided, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Wonwoo’s hand rested on your ankle as Jeonghan’s arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, both of them relaxed and at ease.

You tilted your head up to look at Jeonghan, who met your gaze with a soft smile before leaning down to kiss you gently. The kiss was slow and tender, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

When you pulled away, you turned to Wonwoo, who was watching with a quiet intensity. He reached for you, his fingers brushing your jaw as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips were warm and firm, his touch grounding you as your heart fluttered.

Jeonghan chuckled softly when you broke the kiss. “Alright, don’t get too carried away,” he said, though there was no jealousy in his tone—just a playful fondness.

You laughed, resting your head on Jeonghan’s chest as you reached out to take Wonwoo’s hand again. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you two,” you said quietly.

“Actually,” Wonwoo said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “we’re the lucky ones.”

Jeonghan hummed in agreement, his lips pressing against your hair. “Yeah. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us.”

And with that, the three of you stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the love you shared filling every corner of the room.

a/n: wtf !!! lol writing this, my heart actually melted. lmao this took me months to finish and i guess i can say im just overly proud of myself for reaching the conclusion. honestly, i didnt know what and how to make them all end up together (since that's what the majority wants) but i've actually done it and i've never been prouder. maybe i'm going to make a bonus chapter if you guys like it. what makes you happy makes me happy as well :].

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere

@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9

@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul

@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000 @sunshinewonu @forsoonie @fyvubub

@soleihea @seuncheolcherrybaby @sigxx123 @hjs953012 @caratochan

@smileflawerr @indianmiss @kunfused0101 @jades-archive @i69flora

@whore-anghae @fyvubub @bemysolaces @09yyeol @kaepjjangiya

@fairyhyunggu @hophophlop @itsjustmeagurlthatsveryinlove @kddddddddddddd @wonsivq

@readingcucumber @yueqai @yangtyunhannie @butterflydemons

@yoongznme @cookiearmy

thankyou for sticking with me 'til the end. iloveyouguyss :)) <3

[cuteandhughesy]

Guess They Call It Fallin’ | Matthew Knies

summary: you and matthew promised yourselves once you took each others virginity's, nothing would change between you. but fast forward 3 years - between casual hook ups and spending all your time with one another: you can't help but fall deeper and deeper in love with your best friend.

24.8+K

warnings: NSFW! slow burn | friends with benefits | friends to lovers | loss of virginity (reader + matthew | secret relationship | angst | fluff | suggestive themes | alcohol | smut | kissing | grinding | fingering | unprotected! p in v intercourse | read at your own discretion.

link to masterlist

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Prologue: 3 years ago

since your shared freshman year of highschool, you knew you'd follow matthew knies anywhere.

when you moved to arizona the summer before the september school year, you had never dreaded anything more than the first day of highschool. all that fear and dread faded when you sat down in your home room beside matthew.

you're not sure how it even happened, but soon enough you and matthew became best friends. maybe it was because he reminded you of your old friends from public school - or maybe it was the way matthew treated you so kindly that very first day. you two were always seen with one another - in school halls and out of them.

it didn't take long for you to realize you had feelings for your best friend. I mean, he was nothing short of perfect. your little teenage hormones couldn't help but notice how handsome he was and how good he smelled - his growing biceps and how he seemed to get taller every summer: it was impossible to not fall for him.

you were always good at hiding your feelings. in fear of loosing your closest friend, you didn't even give hints away that you craved something more with matthew. you would take your friendship and hidden crush over loosing him completely- always.

but then something changed.

it was your senior year of highschool. college and university acceptance letters were flying through the doors, celebratory parties and drinking away the weekends were constant reminders of the upcoming graduation. like you've always known, you would follow your best friend everywhere - and that included post secondary school. when matthew got accepted to play for the university of minnesota's hockey team, you worked your butt off to get the grades the university was looking for. all that extra studying, and staying up late for practice payed off: you were accepted to the university of minnesota.

with only a week left before graduation, you and matthew found yourselves at some mutual friends house party. although most people were swimming or laughing by the bonfire, you found yourselves off to the side - enjoying the presence of one another as you lounged on sun beds and stared up at the stars.

the air was warm, and the alcohol in your system was keeping your blood running hot. you were still coherent and conscious - not having drank that much. matthew was the same, with flushed cheeks and a dopey smile, but not slurring or tired. you were both just...free and happy.

"hey," he said at your side, your attention drawn away from the night sky and over to him. he was so handsome, even more so with a cheesy smile and dim outside lighting. you swallow thickly and quirk a brow in his direction. matthew continues, "I just thought of something kind of crazy."

you turn you head so you can look at him comfortably, "oh no."

he laughs, "no nothing like, that crazy." suddenly, he springs up, now sitting with his knees facing you. "come here."

your brows shoot up, but you listen, hesitantly following suit and mimicking your best friends position. your knees brush against his much larger ones, the hairs tickling your bare skin - goose bumps rising over your tan legs. then, he slots his thighs between yours, and you get goosebumps for a whole other reason.

matthew leans in close, almost looking as if he was going to kiss you. you don't move an inch, just watching as he gets closer and closer to your parted lips. just when you go to close your eyes, his breath fans against your warm face.

"you know how we talked about uni - and how it's different there. how the hookup scene is wilder and how easy it will be there to loose our virginities?"

oh.

you recover from the thought that you were about to finally be kissed and furrow your brows. "yeah, what about that?"

"I was thinking - and you don't have to say yes or agree, but..." he pauses and analyzes your face quickly. you urge him to continue with a nudge against his thigh. "by the time we are both 18 and if we are still virgins - we should just have sex...together."

you're glad it's dark outside because your face and neck flush beat red. "matty..."

he sighs, and bows his head slightly. "It's crazy, I know. I just thought who better than each other, right? it's stupid, I shouldn't of said anything-"

maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was because you were hopelessly addicted to making matthew happy but you grab his face between your small palms, urging him to look into your eyes. "it's not stupid." you swallow gently, "and it's definitely not crazy."

matthews tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and you feel yourself lighten. you let go of his face before you have the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

"I think we should do it."

his eyes brighten ever so slightly, "really?"

you nod, "yeah! I mean if we both turn 18 and it hasn't happened - we should just do it. that way, we will enter our 'adulthood' with a notch on each of our belts."

he smiles ever so slightly, "yeah exactly." then he sticks his thick pinky out towards you, "let's pinky promise this, y/n/n. we won't be 18 year old virgins if all else fails."

and your finger wraps around his, solidifying your agreement.

—

college was fun. you think being away from home was easy because you had matthew with you - and he was all you needed to feel at home. although you both attended parties and made new friends - it didn't happen. you were both still virgins. matthew had an excuse though - he was so busy with hockey. between training, practices and games - he barley had time to see you, never mind some other girl.

and you, well, deep down you knew you weren't seeking anybody out because you couldn't think of anybody better than matthew to take your virginity. you're sure it was just your feelings for him talking, but you didn't care.

on october 17th, matthew turned 18. you and your small group of friends went out to some campus party and at the end of the night, matthew informed you he was still a virgin. although you knew that, it was still a relief to hear. in some twisted fantasy, you can help but hope maybe matthew was purposefully avoiding girls for you.

one month and a few days later, it was the eve of your 18th birthday. it was an odd day, because instead of going out like you did for matthew's 18th birthday, you stayed in with him, watching movies and having chocolate cupcakes- just the two of you. almost like you both knew - both ready to ignite the flames of your drunken agreement many months ago, and give one another your most intimate experience.

it started before midnight even hit - you wonder if matthew was sick of waiting around with his virginity. it was a mess of lips and spit, followed by the tangle of limbs and interlocking fingers on your dorm mattress. you had to ignore how perfect kissing matthew felt - how right it all felt.

slowly, clothes disappeared and kisses travelled - excitement grew. although this was supposed to be a nerve wracking experience- there was no signs of that between either of you. only gentle smiles and longing glances.

and when you were both finally naked, matthew clumsily wrapped up with a condom and you spread to accommodate his body between your legs. he paused the kiss, slowly pulling away to see your face.

matthew smiled, pushing the hairs back and away from your flushed face. he held your cheek tenderly, and you mimick his grin. "let's not let this change anything, okay? because I can't loose you." he whispers, thumb stroking the shell of your hot ear.

you nod, "I can't loose you either." one of your hands slide down his strong shoulder and grip onto his bicep, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "it's just us, matty. nothing will ever change."

and with that, matthew slowly pushed himself into you.

the following morning, you were awoken by the quiet shuffling in your room. slowly, you crack one eye open to see matthew, now dressed and smiling gently at you.

"hey," you mumble.

"morning," he hums, "I was just about to wake you up. I'm going to practice."

"okay," you say groggily, tucking yourself deeper into your pillow and away from the daylight streaming through your small window.

he laughs at your usual sleepy routine, very much used to your morning tiredness and uninterested state. turning, he grabs his phone from were he disregarded it the night prior. "i'll text you later, okay," he says, moving back to your slumped figure - running a hand over your mess of hair.

"m'kay," you mutter into your pillow.

then he leaves.

the door clicks shut, and your eyes shoot open- memories of the night before rushing back into your brain faster than you can comprehend them. you and your best friend had sex - and it wasn't akward or painful or anything remotely close.

it was perfect. soft touches, and sweet glances and everything you had ever wanted when experiencing sex for the first time. girls in highschool had talked about there experience- how awkward it was and uncomfortable they felt. with matthew, it was out of a fairytale.

your momentary wave of panick washes away, and you smile. your hand reaching up to gently trace over your lips, thinking of matthew's soft ones slotting against them only hours before.

this was the best case scenario- and you were living it. truthfully, you were expecting it to be this easy with matthew, solely because it was him.

what you weren't expecting though, was every so often when you were both a little tipsy and needy - you'd find yourselves back in bed, sharing kisses and exchanging orgasms.

but nothing ever changed between you. it was still just you and matthew, continuing to be best friends like you haven't had the most intimate parts of one another. you weren't dating, or acting any different outside of the bedroom. just the occasional longing glance, or brushing hands, or trying your hardest to resist kissing, it was fine...really.

Part One: May 2023

you roll up to the balls of your feet and then fall back to your heels. the attempt to see over the bustling airport crowd was unsuccessful, and you sigh gently.

you knaw on your bottom lip and again try and peer over the sea of heads moving throughout the building, trying to catch a glimpse of your tall friend.

matthew had been living in toronto for a couple months while he made is nhl debut with the toronto maple leafs. although the season ended quicker than anticipated, you were still extremely proud of your friend.

with your exam schedule, you couldn't make any of the games like you had hoped. you would've spent your life savings on a plane ticket and glass seats if it meant seeing matthew play in the major league - but school had other plans for you. although, that didn't stop you from calling him or texting him after every game, both of you talking about every single thing you've missed.

in the second last game of the leafs playoff season, matthew got a concussion - a pretty bad one at that. matthew had been pretty upset, and even looked sniffly on facetime (you gave him shit for being on his phone when he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't care: he just wanted you). once he was cleared to fly back home, he called you immediately to ask if you could pick him up from the airport - obviously, you agreed.

so there you stood, in the middle of the airport as families and business men alike all passed by, distracted as they tried to make flights and get to security. it's almost 30 minutes past the time matthew had told you he'd landed. you try not to worry too much - he'd probably just gotten held up at baggage claim or needed the bathroom before he made his way to you.

just as you pull out your phone to call him, a strong arm wraps around your shoulders from behind, pulling your body into their broad chest.

you don't panick, because you know it's matthew immediately. you can smell the ralph lauren cologne he's been wearing since freshman year, and you recognize the soft material of his t-shirt - the t-shirt you've not only pressed your face into in search of hugs but also have stolen on a few occasions.

"you're not even looking for me, what the hell." matthew says against the shell of your ear. his tone of voice is clearly teasing, trying to get a rise out of you.

you spin in his grasp, your air forces squeaking against the tiled floor of the scottsdale airport. he doesn't release your shoulders, keeping you against his front. automatically, you wrap your arms around his thick waist. "it's not my fault you took an hour to get through the airport - I got bored and gave up."

he scoffs playfully, tugging the end of you ponytail, "rude."

you smirk teasingly, "you're right, that's no way to talk to an nhl superstar."

matthew blushes at your words, and his smile brightens right before your very eyes. the sight of his overwhelming happiness has your stanch swooping, butterflies banging against your sides as they fly about.

"i'm no superstar, y/n/n." he whispers, face tilted downwards so he can keep eye contact.

you shrug against him, "I disagree."

you watch as his tongue passes through his lips, swiping along his bottom lip to wet the already plump and pink skin. in that moment, as matthew stares back at you, you think he may lean in for a kiss and you feel your heart hammer with joy.

instead, you see matthew's other hand jolt up, gripping a bouquet of flowers and waving them ever so gently in your peripheral vision. you look over to the blooming display, brows raised.

"got these for you," he muses.

you smile, "why are you getting me things! you're the one who deserves the good things."

his eyes flicker with something you can't quite understand, and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "i've got my good thing right here with me." his words have you freezing ever so slightly, but you don't have time to think of any underlying meaning, because matthew continues, "it's a thank you for coming to pick me up."

you take the flowers, sniffing one of the deep pink tulips, your senses filled with the sweet floral smell you loved so much. "well, then, you're welcome." you tease, dropping the bouquet down from your nose. "that reminds me," you smile, your free hand digging around your jeans back pocket until you locate a chocolate bar. the kitkat is a little mushy from the heat of your body, and the wrapper is a bit crinkled, but you jut it in matthew's direction anyway. "your favourite!"

matthew smiles, taking the chocolate from your hand and inspecting the wrapper. then, he glances back at you with a teasing look. "you know, athletes aren't supposed to eat stuff like this."

"so you don't want it?" you question, a raise to one of your perfectly styled brows.

"oh no, i'm eating it." matthew laughs gently, immediately ripping the red wrapper off the chocolate and taking a messy bite. chocolate smears on his top lip and you laugh.

"you got a little something right there," you whisper gently, finger ghosting over his cupids bow as you gesture to the smeared sweet goodness.

his hand is now wrapped around your waist, holding you to him. matthews brows raise ever so slightly, a grin slowly appearing on his mouth. "yeah?" you nod. "you gunna get it for me?"

you want to kiss him so bad...does he want you to kiss him?

but instead you scrunch your nose playfully, wiping your thumb over his mouth until any traces of smeared chocolate are gone. you don't see the way matthew's eyes change slightly, watching as you use your hands to get rid of the mess.

"ready to go, matty?"

he nods softly, "let's go."

the ride back home is filled with laughter and smiles. matthew is so happy to talk about his experience playing in the nhl - even though you've talked about it before. seeing him speak about the opportunity face to face was something you'd never forget.

you tell him about how emma from your shared history class bombed her final presentation, and that had matthew laughing as you explained the whole thing animatedly. you talk about plans for the summer and finally seeing your friends from highschool after a year away in minnesota.

a kelsea ballerini song slowly fades as you pull up against the curb of matthew's childhood home. a home that you spent your entire highschool life in - studying and laughing and watching movies and just enjoying each others presence. the thought of all those memories have you grinning as you park the car - unlocking the doors once you've stopped.

matthew unbuckles his seat belt. he doesn't hear you move, or the click of your seat belt buckle and looks over at you, a small v shape forming between his drawn brows. "are you not coming in?"

"I don't want to interrupt, matty. they haven't seen you in a little bit."

he shakes his head, "my mom already asked for you to join - and I told her you'd come in, so..."

you sigh and he watches you give him a knowing look - one that isn't buying his bullshit: he knows it all too well. matthew sends a sheepish smile your way and briefly shrugs his shoulders. "at least help me with my bags. what kind of friend would you be if you didn't help me with them," he teases.

the kind of friend you kiss and hold and fuck, you think.

regardless, you unbuckle your seatbelt with a faux annoyed look. matthew's smile grows into one of successes, and you purposefully avoid his now cheeky expression. "yeah, yeah, let's go."

matthew lied about his mom inviting you over - which you knew he did (because you can read your best friend like a book), but she was excited to see you regardless. as soon as his mom jumped in suprise and expressed her joy at your presence- you sent matthew a deathly glare for his lie. he could only smirk playfully in response to your obvious annoyed reaction.

in her typical fashion, matthew's mom coddled both of you and fed you dinner just like she used to do when the two of you were still kids in highschool.

unlike you, matthew's parents made it to a couple of his nhl games. even though they've seen him since he left for minnesota, they haven't talked about school since christmas - when they were down in toronto, the topic of conversation was obviously matthew's nhl debut.

so you weren't suprised when his mom, between chews of her cheesy pasta, started peppering her son with all sorts of questions.

"did you make friends with anyone new since we last talked?"

"how was your roommate and the dishes situation?"

"did you ever figure out your biology assignment? or was it chemistry?"

"any girlfriends while you were in toronto?"

"mum," matthew laughs awkwardly, his fork hitting the plate with a clinck, "your foods going to get cold if you keep asking all these questions."

his brother snickers into his pepsi filled glass. you and him share a brief look once their mum kicks matthew under the table because of his remark - regardless, she was laughing along with the table. "you're right, i'm sorry - just curious."

matthew doesn't answer the last question, which has you feeling nervous. you watch as he drags his bread through a section of sauce, soaking the garlic flavoured dough. he meets your curious eyes - deep in thought - as he takes a bite. you smile politely in his direction, eyes darting away. if he sees your worried expression, he doesn't say anything, looking away once you do.

you shove some pasta in your mouth and try not to overthink - which was always impossible when it came to your brain and matthew.

"what about you, y/n?" his dad asks from the head of the table, dropping his piece of garlic toast on the side of his ceramic plate. "any boyfriend?"

you choke slightly on a spaghetti noodle, taking a few gulps of water to calm your coughing and burning face. "sorry. no," you hum once you've collected yourself, "nothing like that."

in your peripheral vision, you see matthew turn to look at you again. you glance at him quickly, and he gives you a knowing look, shoving a large bite of food into his mouth in an attempt to cover his smirk.

you dart your gaze away quickly - your face burning for an entirely different reason.

"really?!" his mum muses, oblivious to the glances exchanged between you and her son, "I gotta say you two, all these years away at school and neither of you in relationships - I'd say you spend too much time together."

you blush, clearing your throat. your eyes meet your plate of food as you begin to slide your fork through the last bites of sauce and meat.

"that's definitely it," matthew hums, not meeting your eyes in favour of finishing off his plate. underneath the table, his knee bumps yours once, and you're not sure if he meant to do it, but you fight a smile regardless - gently bumping his back.

only an hour after finishing dinner and cleaning up the mess of pots and plates - matthew was begging you to come to the beach with him for sunset before heading back home. you let him him beg and convince you, even though you were set on going as soon as the words left his mouth.

the sand is warm on your feet as you dig them into the granules - sand dusting up to your ankles and coating your braided anklet. the sunset is reflecting on your face, providing a warm glow not only on you, but on the entire beach. you close your eyes and take a long inhale, basking in the feeling.

matthew drops down beside you, his added weight pulling on the blanket you'd set down. he leans back on to his hands and stretches his legs out - his feet sliding through the sand and sending tiny particles onto the blanket.

you huff, immediately trying to dust it all off. it makes your best friend laugh quietly beside you.

"I missed you," matthew whispers a few minutes after you cleared the blanket. "so much."

you look over at him, meeting his blue gaze. he looks so beautiful with the hues of orange and fuscha reflecting around him. clean shaven, and t-shirt stretching around his muscles ever so nicely. "i missed you," you say back.

matthew's forearm brushes against yours and his palm is so close to yours in the sand that if you just reached out, you'd be able to wrap your pinky over his. you're unsure if he means to brush your limbs together, and you think about pulling away, but then his muscles flex against you, and you feel him press his arm against yours firmly - conforming he wants you there.

that action has you thinking back a few hours ago at the dinner table - matthew's knee touching yours under the table privately. but thinking about that part of the dinner, also has you thinking about how matthew never gave an answer about having a girlfriend while he was away.

even thinking about that has your stomach dropping like you'd just dropped on a roller coaster. before you can stop yourself, you get his attention gently, "matty?"

he hums, his eyes trained on the setting sun across the water.

"is there a girl in toronto?"

you're pretty sure his arm goes rigid on yours. you've dropped on the roller coaster again, feeling your organs fall all the way to your feet. matthew sighs gently, "y/n.."

when you and matthew started casually hooking up, you both decided to not only stay best friends, but you also chose to not be exclusive. the point of loosing your virginities to one another was to get over that awkward milestone with a future partner. therefore, once you were both free of that title, you could go out into the dating scene and feel free - and have sex with whoever.

so of course there was a chance matthew was hooking up with somebody in toronto - you'd be happy if he did, truly. as his best friend, you want him to be happy. as his unrequited lover, you couldn't bare the thought. because although matthew may be not be exclusive, you have always been (unbeknownst to him).

without wanting to sound bothered or upset, you laugh breathlessly. "it doesn't matter if you do, matty. we're friends, right? no secrets ever." - a promise you and him had always cherished was never ever having secrets - excluding your painfully excruciating crush on him (obviously).

"no, I know," matthew nods with an expression you can't quite decipher. it's something between soft and maybe guilty - possibly innocent or nothing even close. he sighs again, "there's no girl...and no secrets."

you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, suppressing the grin as it slowly made its way onto your face.

"well," matthew says lightheartedly. he pushes off his hands, dusting the sand off his palms once he sits up. his back muscles have you too distracted to notice all the sand covering your blanket. once positioned, matthew looks back at you over his shoulder, "there is one girl."

if it wasn't for his playful tone and the smirk he was sending in your direction, you'd think he was being serious. you push off your hands as well and wrap them around his bulged bicep. "oh yeah? who's that?" you ask gently, leaning into his warm body.

"you," he whispers, hooked nose brushing against yours delicately - if you didn't know this was the way you and matthew acted, you'd be tricked into thinking he had feelings for you.

you scrunch your nose against his, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "you just want to get laid."

matthew's lips look like they may turn into a downwards pull, and you already feel the panick bubbling at your chest - what had you said wrong?

but he clears his throat, mouth turning into a soft smirk. "maybe..."

you force another laugh, "good," you lie, "me too."

and in your and matthew's lonesome on the sandy beach, he slowly leans back into your space, finally pressing a kiss against your lips.

your grip on his arm tightens when his tongue slips between your parted lips, allowing him access to deepn the kiss - tongues massaging one another as they skillfully move.

when matthew pulls away a few minutes later, he's breathing heavily, an all too familiar haze in his eyes and smile on his swollen pink lips.  "let's get in your car."

you nod, "m'kay."

the last bit of the evening sun is falling on you both and illuminating the water. matthew's helps you up, grabbing the blanket and making sure to dust all the sand off before throwing it in your backseat.

when he pulls you against his chest in the privacy of your car and continues your hot kiss, you think you just so happen to be falling deeper in love with your best friend.

Part Two:

the alchemy was the towns best hangout spot. not only was there a bar and dance floor, but they had amazing food and an even better atmosphere. at the end of every week, they'd often have local bands come in to play their set - friday was always the night to go.

this friday was no exception. there was a lineup outside the building, and every few minutes it would get shorter as the bouncers checked ID's and sent people in. you, as well as some other friends in your group, weren't of age yet, so you were already preparing for the purple X they'd draw on your hand to stain your skin and indicate your age.

your good friend janie is fixing her lip gloss in her small compact mirror as she faces you. janie was somebody who valued her appearance very much - but she was so beautiful, she barley had to do anything to maintain it. you watch as her boyfriend, daniel, talks her ear off about something he had seen at the mall earlier, face animated as he flails his hands.

the line moves again and behind you, matthew pushes you along gently - presses into your backside with his hips as you inch forward. he's not even looking at you when he does it, too busy conversing with another friend of yours, logan.

matthew's hand is warm on your exposed hip, his thumb gently resting against the waist band of your jean shorts - slowly stroking the edge, thumb occasionally dipping under the material. you sigh pleasantly, head falling back to rest against his peck.

a moment later, matthew looks down at you, a smile making its way onto his face. you notice logan has turned his attention to another person in your small group of friends - leaving all your friends distracted.

you loved and appreciated your small group of friends from high school, and always cherished your time together as well as your closeness. but there is one thing you and matthew never disclosed: your complicated relationship. at the beginning, you weren't sure there was a term for you and matthew's situation, but now you know it's friends with benefits. you'd never even admitted that to yourself, never mind telling all your friends. in fantasy land, matthew was your boyfriend and he loved you back - he pulls you in for kisses in front of his family and your friends, and he tells his family he has a girl: you.

"what's going on with you?" matthew's whispered words have you pulled from your own thoughts, his hips still against you - shuffling you further up line. "you look deep in thought - that's never good." he teases.

you scoff, smacking his chest with the back of your hand playfully. your actions have matthew laughing deeply, chest rumbling against your shoulders - which makes you smile. "not much," you hum.

discreetly, you check and make sure nobody is in earshot and eavesdropping on you and your best friend - you notice they're distracted. you lean your head up so you can be closer to his ear and whisper, "just that you look kinda hot in that hat."

matthew is wearing a western style cowboy hat atop his head, paired with jeans and a white tshirt. it's rodeo theme at the alchemy tonight, and matthew isn't the only one dressed for the occasion. your friend group and everyone else in line are dressed in their best western style. hats and boots are everywhere in sight, along with cow prints and pleather tassels.

"goes it make me look like a cowboy?" he questions with a suggestive raise to his eyebrows - a smirk tugging at his mouth.

you giggle slightly and nod once with conformation. "yes."

"good," he hums, "you gunna ride me?" his eyes dart down to your shirt, which so happens to say 'save a horse and ride a cowboy.' you bought it specifically for the occasion, obviously - paired with your favourite denim shorts and cowgirl boots. definitely not the most creative or unique outfit - but still on theme.

you blush, "depends...you gunna let me try that on?" with your question, you spin around to face matthew, reaching up to try and grab his hat from his head. matthew grabs your hand before you can reach the brim, halting your movement.

you pout, "matty..."

matthew huffs likes he's annoyed, but the very edges of his plump lips begin to tug upwards. without another word, he grabs the hat from the top, plopping it down on your head so that it covers your eyes, your straight hair falling over your face.

you laugh, pulling the hat off so you can attempt to adjust your hair back into place. matthew beats you to it, his warm hands pushing away all the strands from your vision with a fond gleam in his eyes. he doesn't pull away once he's done moving your hair and his hands slide down to hold the side of your face for a moment longer.

you wish that he'd kiss you then. but he doesn't, and you feel your face wanting to drop with disappointment.

trying to hide the sadness you feel, you put matthew's cowboy hat back on your head; properly this time so that no hair gets in the way.

your group makes it to the entrance of the alchemy, and country music is flowing through the open doors. the two bouncers check over all your id's and mark the appropriate people who are underage - matthew and you included.

once you enter, you immediately notice how the crowd was bustling - loud laughter, music and the tangy smell of beer throughout.

"yo, let's get that table!" daniel shouts over the noise of the crowd, pointing in the direction of an area near the back of the alchemy that seemed unoccupied.

while you walk through the busy place, matthew grabs ahold of your hand softly, guiding you behind him as you all make your way to the table. the feeling of his hand on yours in such a public setting feels overwhelming in the best way, and there's a part of you that hopes any girl who'd seen him walk in - now thinks he's in a relationship and any advances they'd thought of making are halted.

you and your friends order a round of drinks as soon as you sit down, and you send your friend april, as well as logan, up to the bar to collect everyone's desired beverages.

although you couldn't order the drinks, that didn't mean you couldn't sneak some. one or two vodka sodas combined with the shots you pregamed would have you feeling drunk in no time.

and that was true, because an hour later, you and janie were both very buzzed in the middle of the crowded dance floor - dancing to some megan moroney cover song.

"so," janie starts with a suggestive smirk, "you and matthew looked pretty cozy earlier."

"what?" you squeak, "no, we're just -I don't know janie, you know how we are."

she eyes you suspiciously, "you two have so much sexual tension recently. you guys should like...fuck or something."

your eyes widen and you blush, slightly choking on your own attempt to cough. "absolutely not," you squeak, "I mean - that would just...ruin things."

she laughs slightly and shrugs her exposed tan shoulders in your direction, "just a suggestion. I mean, he probably wants to do it anyways."

you knaw on your lip, forehead lines deepening as you take in your friends words. "why do you think that?" a momentary swirl of panic overtakes you, and you're worried yourself and matthew were being too obvious.

"y/n," she laughs, her hips swaying to the country tune lightly, "guys don't act like that for no reason! I mean, the way he looks at you..."

you swallow quickly. briefly, your eyes meet your shoes and you resist the urge to sigh sadly. "we're just best friends, jaine, believe me."

you wish you were more, your drunk brain reminds you.

you look away from the floor to find janie, but she's isn't looking at you, but rather her eyes are trained over your shoulder. then, she smirks slightly at you, "looks like he's coming over here."

just like a 6th grade girl with a crush, you freeze. blushing all the way down to your chest and eyes widening. trying to remain nonchalant, you shrug and take a sip of your drink.

"i'm gunna go." your brunette friend says, "before you two get all...sensual." janie sends you one last teasing look over her shoulder as she walks away - leaving you waiting anxiously for matthew's touch.

a moment later, you feel matthew press against you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a brief hug - merely missing your drink as he does so. immediately with his touch, all earlier anxious and physical jitters vanish and you relax into matthew's familiar grip.

"missed you over there," he mutters into your ear. "our table was boring without you." matthew's nose nudges against the shell of your ear and then he leans farther down your body - pressing a hot kiss right between the skin of your shoulder and the base of your neck.

you swoon. his touch combined with the warm breath tickling against your skin, as well as the feeling of his lips pressing against you, causes something similar to a moan to leave your lips quietly.

the alcohol in your system has completely stolen your filter, and you can only pray that your friends can't see the way matthew had just approached you - or how you reacted to his touch.

at your breathy exhale, matthew spins your body around so that you are standing pressed chest to chest. he smirks when he catches sight of your happy flushed face and drunken hazy eyes. "you look so hot dancing." he says lowly.

you reach up and delicately brush a fallen eyelash off his cheek. "is that so?" you question, purposely pressing your boobs harder into his chest.

"definitely so," he agrees.

behind you, the band starts a new song, something with less tempo that your buzzed brain doesn't recognize immediately.

it looks like matthew does recognize the tune though, and he sends you a smirk. "dance with me?" he questions cheekily, reaching down to grab his cowboy hat you were still wearing, placing it back on his own head.

you don't care enough to protest, partially because he looks too good in it for you to complain. you raise your cup in his direction, "i've got this still."

just as you finish your scentence, matthew grabs your drink, raising it to his mouth and chugging the last of its contents. you gawk, watching as he wipes his mouth and places your now empty cup on a nearby table.

one of matthew's hands grab ahold of your waist, while the other takes your hand in his own - interlocking your fingers together. "now you can dance," he teases, swaying you both to the song.

"I hate you," you huff. your words have no real bite as you begin to smile.

"you can't hate me," matthew says matter of factly, "i'm your best friend."

you frown ever so slightly, jutting your chin up, "just your best friend?" you're buzz has you clearly teetering on drunk, and matthew can tell - not only from your question but your blissed expression.

he chooses not to answer your question but you don't seem to mind, too busy swaying to the song you loved so much.

"stand by me," you sing to him, "ooooh stand by me."

matthew laughs fondly, and you beam up at him. "you're a natural," he states teasingly.

"you sing the next part with me," you insist.

"it's not a duet."

"it is now," you state, "c'mon - just as long you stand, stand by me."

matthew joins in, "and darling, darling stand by me!" his tone is pitchy and he's singing loud enough to earn interested stares from the people in your vicinity.

it has you faltering, laughing into his warm chest. matthew stops singing as well, watching amused as you lean into him with nothing but happiness on your face. he releases your hand in favour to wrap that hand around your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

you wake with a deep groan, squinting at the harsh light on your face that was streaming through open curtains. with another groan, you pull the blanket up and over your face to hide yourself from your own hangover.

the smell of matthew's cologne and laundry detergent has you pausing, cracking open one eye to see the familiar navy sheets on matthew's childhood bed.

you toss the blanket away from your face, and turn to see him watching you gently from the other side of the bed - an ever knowing grin on his face at your hungover morning behaviour.

"shut up," you grumble, pushing up from your flat position to mimic him, sitting with your back flat against the headboard.

"didn't say anything," matthew muses.

"but you thought it," you huff. his laughter is enough for you to know your accusation was true, and you squint annoyed at him.

"I brought you this," he hands you a bottle of water and two aspirins, which you take immediately, sighing in relief at the water falling down your dry throat.

slowly, the night before comes back to you. memories of cowgirl boots, your friends downing drinks and dancing all night flooding your brain. your groan once more, covering your face briefly when a wave of nausea comes over you. "ugh, I never want to here stand by me again."

matthew laughs loudly, body rolling over until he's pressed into your side.

you laugh gently with him, dropping your hands from your face so you can see. "seriously!"

"anytime I hear that song now i'm going to think of you," matthew insists. subconsciously, one of matthew's fingers trial over your forearm, gently tickling your skin as he looks up at you from his now slouched position.

although the thought of the song is currently making you feel sick, matthew's words have you feeling fuzzy - there was worse songs that could remind him of you, and stand by me was a really sweet one to he associated with.

because you don't say anything, matthew starts to sing, "stand by me, ohhhh!"

you shush him with a laugh, placing your hand over his mouth.

Part Three (A):

"5...4...3...2...1....and you're done," daniel cheers as you all watch jaine drop back down to her feet from her previous hand stand.

she smiles victorious, giving a bow in your direction. she stumbles slightly, the combination between her various drinks and uneven grassy ground throwing her off balance. she is still just as happy for completing her dare despite her shaky balance, skipping back towards the bonfire you all sat around and taking her seat between you and her boyfriend.

"I did the 20 second hand stand - those 3 years of gymnastics really payed off," she chimes, "take a sip, logan."

logan, the one who gave her the dare, tongues his cheek before he takes a large gulp of his seltzer. it goes down easily, and you watch his face in the glow from the bonfire - some of the liquid falling from the corner of his mouth, dripping until he wipes it away. "alright, janie, we don't have all day."

she doesn't answer to his teasing, eyes searching your small group of friends to find the next recipient of her question. "april," she starts, "truth or dare?"

april, another one of your highschool friends, laughs lightly, uncrossing her tan legs as she ponders. "truth," she settles on.

"when was the last time you had a dirty dream?" janie giggles like she already had the question locked and loaded in her brain - either that or she knows something about april that the rest of you don't. the thought has you giggling into your chest.

the guys in your group all tease her, a low chorus of 'ouuuu' echoing in logan's backyard.

she blushes at the question. "god, I can't answer that! I don't even think i've ever had one!" april squawks, covering her burning cheeks with her hands.

"you gotta finish your drink if you don't answer," dylan, another member of your circle of friends reminders her.

without another word, april chugs her entire can, finishing off the fruity drink in mere seconds. you all cheer her on as she finishes, trying to collect her breathing.

classic party games have always been a staple when your friends all got together. whether it was back when you were all still in highschool - akward and acne prone, or times like right now - when you were all home for the summer - you all played them. truth or dare was a common one, offering the best combination of fun activity and talking. plus, it was easy to incorporate a few drinks - which always spiced things up.

"y/n," april's sweet voice calls your attention, "truth or dare?" she asks, a mischievous grin beginning to tug at her lined lips.

on instinct, you want to say truth. truth is usually easier and sometimes less embarrassing than the dares that go around this group; you think back to highschool when logan had to streak through the neighborhood or when janie had to post an akward singing video for her followers to see. but with truths, secrets can go hand in hand - and you had a big secret - one that you aren't sure you can hide too much longer.

across from you, matthew meets your gaze. he's watching you with a teasing glimmer in his eyes, mouth hid behind his canned drink as he takes a nonchalant sip.

"dare," you decide, eyes darting back to april.

her smile widens, and if she wasn't so pretty you'd think she looked rather evil. you wouldn't be suprised if her hands came together wickedly and she begins to cackle. "I dare you...." april pauses dramatically, grin growing "...to kiss logan."

oh my god.

"what?" you ask, brows raised in a mixture of suprise and shock.

"c'mon!" daniel cheers, reaching over his girlfriend's body to push against your shoulder playfully.

"pucker up those lips," dylan teases.

you laugh awkwardly, tucking some of your hair away.

daniel interrupts, "-and no drinking out of dares!"

you'd honestly forgotten about that rule - one that you had made up a few years back when too many people were opting out of dares and the game had just become a chug fest.

you meet matthew's eyes again, expect this time he is looking at you with a weary expression. fair enough, you think, because why would he want his fuck buddy to make out with his friend right in front of him.

"if she really doesn't want to we shouldn't make her," he says firmly.

you heart flutters in your chest at the thought of matthew possibly feeling jealous, but then you remember what you and him are, and you deflate once more. he wasn't jealous, more likely feeling uncomfortable.

"rules are rules," janie sing songs, bumping into your side teasingly.

you don't want to draw to much attention or conger any questions from matthew's words being tied to your hesitation, so you stand up, walking confidently to the blonde boy across from you.

logan laughs, letting you invade his space.

"hands to yourself," you tell him, trying your best to sound playful and not worried or nervous.

"same goes for you," he quips back.

you ignore him, gently grabbing onto his shoulder as you lean down to meet his seated height, pressing your lips onto his. they slot together, and he gently sucks along your bottom lip.

logan's kiss is nowhere near as nice as any of the ones matthew has given you. his lips weren't as soft as matthew's, or as gentle. logan's only held notes of lust and eagerness - matthew's always took their time and moved skillfully.

then, logan grabs your face between both your hands, stopping your kiss so he can lick up the side of your cheek sloppily.

your friends laugh, and you push away with a smile, wiping away any silva with the back of your hand. "you're foul," you breath with quick laugh.

"gotta keep it interesting," logan teases, shifting in his seat so he can reach for another can of beer.

"I have to go clean my face," you say loudly, "i'll be in the bathroom." you make your way to the patio door, entering the quiet house, your friends laughter and continuation of the game slowly quieting as you slide the door closed behind you.

you flick on the bright bathroom light before shutting the door, leaving you alone in the small powder room near the front of the home. you quickly clean your face with a baby wipe, then washing off any residue with some soap and water.

thankfully in the summer months, you didn't wear much makeup, meaning you weren't really altering your appearance but rubbing suds into your face and rinsing with water.

you turn to leave, but out of something that feels like guilt, you walk back to the sink and scrub at your lips, essentially wiping off the traces of the kiss with your longtime friend.

for matthew, your brain reminds you with a tease.

you shake your head and blink away the thought, turning back to the door and pulling it open.

matthew stands there, hand reached out like he was about to open the bathroom door just before you. you meet his eyes gently, and he looks down at you with a darkened gaze, slightly breathless as he stand in front of you.

then, he backs you both into the powder room, shutting the door again so you're both standing in the small space. matthew strides towards you, grabbing onto your face and tilting your head back into the perfect position for him to press his lips against as yours.

you moan immediately, hands grabbing onto his waist over his shirt. you both smell like bonfire mixed with your respective alcoholic beverages, but it isn't off putting: only familiar - comfortable.

matthew nips at your bottom lip, and you gasp gently, which gives him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. the feeling has you panting into his mouth, fingers gripping his shirt tighter.

he pulls back only briefly, "how long before they come looking?" his lips brush against yours as he asks, and you can barley focus on his question at the feeling.

"couple more minutes," you pant.

he doesn't say anything else in favour of pushing his mouth back into yours. it's sloppy, like he's racing against time -desperately trying to get as much of you as humanly possible.

matthew turns your body until you're pushed against the bathroom sink. the ceramic digs into your lower back, but you don't care enough to change that. you're too focused on the way matthew pushes his thick thigh between your legs, simultaneously moving your thighs apart as well as providing his leg as another form of stimulation.

he grunts against your lips as you rock against him, and one of his hands leaves you face and drops towards your lower back - slipping between you and the hard sink. he pulls you closer by your back, dragging your core farther up his thigh.

"we need to stop," matthew breaths, "because soon i'll have no choice but to fuck you on our friends sink."

you gulp, "is that so bad?"

"no," he licks his lip, "but they'll definitely catch us."

with that, you agree, and you both untangle yourselves from one another. you turn away to adjust your frazzled hair in the small mirror above the bathroom counter. unfortunately, you can't do much about your glossy eyes and flushed face, but both can be disguised as you just drinking too much.

you feel matthew press himself behind you, his bulge resting against your ass and you look away from your appearance to meet his eyes through the mirror. he's looking at you with an odd look, so you raise one of your brows in question. "you okay?"

he blinks three times, taking a deep breath. "yeah, just...lost in my thoughts for a moment there."

you frown, worries of only minutes ago of you kissing logan filling your head - he's come in here to claim his territory and assert dominance because you'd kissed logan. "are you mad at me?" you question gently, eyes still trained on his through the mirror.

matthew's brows pull together, and he grabs onto your hips, spinning you around to face him once more. "why would I be mad at you?"

you shrug sheepishly, and you hold onto your own arms apprehensively. "maybe because I kissed logan? right in front you. and I know that we are just fucking or whatever...but, you're mad because you feel, I don't know, disrespected."

immediately after you finish, matthew shakes his head. he pushes away any baby hairs around your face, keeping his hand resting on the side of your head. "absolutely not." you see something flash in his eyes before he continues, "i think i'm just jealous - actually I know that i'm jealous."

"jealous?" you whisper.

he nods again, "jealous because logan got to kiss you before I did tonight."

"oh," you fight back a smirk, and you drop you arms in favour of wrapping them around matthew's torso - he lets you pull him closer wordlessly. "if it's any constellation, out of the two kisses i've had tonight, yours is the only one I enjoyed."

he smirks, "I bet the licking had something to do with that."

you laugh, "something."

he pretends to ponder, "maybe I should up my tongue game some more."

you giggle loudly, and the sound has matthew breaking character to smile fondly down at you. then he interrupts your giggle with one more kiss.

in that moment, it feels like a relationship rather than just friendship with perks. the way matthew holds onto you, and smiles down at you - the way you smile back. merely moments ago you were ready to have sex in somebody else's house, purely because you couldn't help yourself - too in love and drunk to not. that intense, hot moment now turned soft and sweet, while matthew say's things that he knows will make you laugh. in that moment, you let yourself pretend.

you let yourself pretend matthew wasn't only jealous because his friend got the kiss question before him - he was jealous because the girl he loved had to kiss someone else.

how you long for that to be true.

nobody is suspicious when you and matthew make your way back outside and take your respective seats. nobody questions either of you - too busy watching daniel give dylan a lap dance.

over the flames of the fire, matthew catches your gaze. he tongues his cheek to try and hide the smirk he couldn't help.

Part Three (B): junior year of highschool

you often worried when it came to your best friend. not necessarily about him physically, but rather about what what he thinks and knows. not to say you didn't care about what physically happened to him, but the thought of him finding out your deepest hidden feelings for him was more worrying than a bruise or a headache - or so you thought.

when matthew texted you late at night that something had happened to him, you didn't hesitate to hop in your car and make the drive over to his families home.

you knew the code to his front door and let yourself in quietly - mindful of 11 p.m. approaching.

you toed off your slippers on the christmas themed door mat before making your way further into the gingerbread scented home. the sound of friends and the glow of the tv alerted you to somebody up in the family room, and you slowed in your steps as you approached.

phil, matthew's brother, looks in your direction. he doesn't seem suprised by your presence, so you think matthew must've mentioned that you'd be coming over. phil nods once over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the show. "he's upstairs."

"thanks," you say gently, making your way up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, and all the way to matthew's bedroom door.

you don't bother knocking, because you and him never did, and push open his wooden door. the room is only illuminated by his bedside lamp, casting a warm glow on his cream coloured walls and mousey brown furniture.

you catch matthew's eyes and a frown tugs at your lips. he looks tired, presumably from his hockey game earlier in the evening.

"hey," he says quietly. he pushes up from his slouched position and gets off his bed, making his way over to you.

you walk into the room and shut the door softly behind you. "hey," you say, "what's wrong?"

you catch a glimpse of matthew's frown and teary eyes before he wraps his arms around you - pulling your body into his chest for a tight embrace. instantly, you reciprocate the hug, your smaller arms wrapping around his upper back, rubbing soothingly along the ripples of muscles under his skin.

he takes a shaky deep inhale against you, and the feeling has your frown deepening. seeing your best friend so upset was gut wrenching enough, never mind when you also have an embarrassingly large crush on him. "please, talk to me, matty. what's going on?"

he takes one more big breath before he releases you. "i've had a shitty day. school dragged on and then mr. johnson failed me on that assignment from last week. then, during my game I took a weird hit and totally fucked my shoulder! not only that but after the hit I made a shit play and got benched. i'm just...tired." he finishes, his shoulders deflating.

you listen with a slight pout, your eyes intensely dancing over his flushed cheeks and deep coloured bags sitting below his eyes. "i'm sorry about your shitty day." you say.

"not your fault," matthew shrugs.

"what do you want me to do for you?" you ask gently. you think about reaching out again, maybe to run your hand over his arm reassuringly - or caress his face as you tried to ease him into a less overwhelmed state, but you decide against it.

"I just want you to be with me," he admits quietly, "can we just watch a movie or something?"

you nod instantly. you do touch him this time, but he is the one who initiates the contact - grabbing on to your hand gently to guide you over to his unmade bed. you're thankful it's not too light in his bedroom, because you blush at the feeling of his hand in yours.

matthew pulls back the already flailed blanket, allowing you to climb into the mess of bedding and get comfortable before he makes his entrance.

he sits back against his headboard as he scrolls through options on netflix. wordlessly, he chooses 13 going on 30, which you think is a bit odd - but you've always loved the jennifer garner rom-com, so you weren't complaining.

the start of the film begins to play quietly and matthew sinks down into the pillows. he rolls towards you and pushes himself into the side of your torso.

you instantly feel hot. you thank your past self for choosing sleep shorts to go with your long sleeve top, because you would've died from overheating if you choose sweatpants. he throws his arm across your belly, hand reaching up to rest against your rib cage - you hope he can't feel your heart beating too hard. matthew pushes his knee under your leg, effectively sliding between you and the mattress - your leg now resting on top his.

you stay still, too worried that if you move or speak you'll wake up from a dream - a dream in which that this was a normal activity for somebody and their best friend to do. it's not that you and matthew were never touchy, as he would often find your hand in large crowds so he didn't loose you, or hug you in greetings and partings - but very rarely did you cuddle.

"can you tickle my arm?" he mumbles into your shirt, "your nails feel nice."

his request has your spiraling thoughts coming to a halt. his gentle tone and sweet question immediately has you smiling, your body relaxing  into his - "of course," you mumble, raising your hand until your nails can run gently over his arm.

matthew sighs happily, tiny goosebumps prickling on his skin. you smile bigger at the sight just as matthew tucks his head further up your body, the top resting against your collarbone. you let your head fall against his, your eyes trained on the movie.

it's obvious why matthew picked one of your preferred movies as you feel his breathing slow down - looking to see his eyes closed shut and his lips parted to release soft breaths.

matthew just needed his best friend.

although you wish you were his girlfriend coming to his aid - you're just happy matthew feels close enough to you in the relationship you do have.

in his sleep, matthew moans briefly, adjusting his hand so it scoops under your back to cradle you against his body. between his peaceful expression and the warmth of his body laying on yours - you know in that moment it isn't just a crush on you're best friend: you're falling in love with him.

Part Four (A): july 4th weekend

"I hate this," you huff, standing up straight and tossing your hands on your hips.

janie laughs from somewhere on the campsite at your words, but you don't feel like laughing along. you're sweating because of the sweltering arizona heat and you're frustrated from the task at hand.

your tent is only half up, and putting that side up was a challenge. you hear somebody approach you from behind, and you turn to look over your shoulder to see matthew. he drops one of the cooler's at the picnic bench beside your deflated tent and he laughs gently.

you squint at him, "it's not funny. i'm going to have to sleep outside because my tent won't be built."

he tuts his tongue at you, taking one of the long metal rods sticking out of the pile. "you're so dramatic." immediately, he begins to expertly thread the pole through the tents openings. the heat has you feeling flustered, and watching matthew's long fingers navigate the metal wasn't helping...at all.

you scoff, "you love my dramatics, matty, don't pretend it bothers you now."

he doesn't look away from your tent, but he smiles anyways. "yeah yeah, can you grab me another pole? and start bringing the pins over as well - since you're just standing there."

you scrunch your nose up and drop your hands from your hips. "i'll grab you a pole alright."

your grumble has him laughing as you turn on your heels and walk away, gathering the rest of the parts to bring them closer to your tent - which now is beginning to look more functional.

you place them where matthew is working, dropping down to a squat beside his crouched position. he sends you a playful look out of the corner of his eye, "now you want to work?"

you shrug, threading a different pole through the polyester loops. "what kind of friend would I be if I made you do all the work on my tent?"

logan passes with an armful of firewood. he drops the pile of logs into the designated fire pit, already preparing for the night before noon has even hit.

for this fourth of july weekend, you had all decided you wanted to do some sort of camping trip. old fashioned camping - completed with tents and smores and picnic benches. thankfully, there were a couple high rated camp sites around the scottsdale area that had vacancy, and you all had packed two of your cars full for a weekend vacation.

"kniesy, you dick, you're supposed to be putting up our tent - never mind y/n's," logan teases as he passes again, gently nudging his foot against your strained calf - which makes you sway, loosing some of your balance.

"go like set up the grill or something," you tell the blond after you flip him the bird, "before I decide to kill you and throw your body in the lake."

"gruesome," logan says. he does what you suggested though, and you catch a glimpse of him unloading the portable barbecue before you turn back to the tent.

"okay," matthew says, pushing off his knees and into a standing position. "you stay on this side while I pull on the support strings and start to hammer them in- I just need you to keep it straight."

"aye aye captain," you salute, pushing yourself to stand just as he did moments prior.

he chuckles under his breath, moving around to the first side of the tent he needed to secure into the ground.

you watch him work with a soft gaze. the way he kneels in the dirt to ensure he's got the tent pulled in a way it won't collapse - watch as his tongue darts out as he concentrates on nailing in the pins. you're sure there's a look on your face that would warrant questions if somebody caught you - but you don't care.

"is it straight?" matthew asks, eyes glancing up in your direction. he catches you admiring him and you clear your throat, looking away with a few quick blinks.

"yeah! all good," you tell him. matthew just smirks at you before finishing building your tent.

a while later, while the afternoon sun is still beating down on your bare shoulders, april suggests you all head to the water for a quick swim. obviously you agree, quickly changing into your bathing suit.

you're all almost near the mini beach, saved for daniel who opted to stay back and watch over the campsite, when matthew falls into line with you - his bare arm brushing against yours as you walk side by side. his pinky runs along yours discreetly, his much larger finger almost hooking yours.

the sun reflected off his tan and toned body, the light accenting the ripples of his strong muscles: abs, biceps, triceps and everything in between.

"i'll race you," matthew says, breaking the quiet tension that had built between you as you both reach the sandy beach.

you look up at him to find a challenging grin on his face - a teasing sparkle in his bright eyes.

"matty," you start, "we aren't kids - besides, it's busy! all these people we'd have to avoid...." you trail off, gesturing to the crowded beach. "...it's a shame they will all have to watch you loose."

you take off, dropping your tote bag as you make a mad dash towards the water.

you hear matthew laugh loudly behind you, surely already beginning to run in your direction. you weave between the bodies throughout the sand, muttering apologies as you approach the water.

you laugh as you miraculously make it into the warm water, just beating matthew in your foot race because of your (cheating) head start. you slow as you go deeper into the lake, turning your body back around just to watch matthew splash into the lake, his body slowly disappearing under the surface as he follows your trail.

on the shore you see your friends laughing in their own world, setting out towels and the umbrella and their few trinkets - janie with her book and april with her phone. briefly, you wonder if one of them had grabbed your bag from where you abandoned it.

the water ripples against you skin as matthew reaches you, his smile an instant distraction from your tote that you suddenly couldn't care less about in his presence. "you tricked me." he states, hands running through the water, sending more sploshes up your tummy.

you shrug innocently, "did I? or are you just slow..."

he splashes some water at you, wetting your bikini top and shoulders. matthew laughs loudly as you screech from the sudden cold temperature, trying to turn your back on his attack.

"I let you win," matthew says after he splashes you once more.

you turn to face him slowly, still weary of any more water he may send your way. "is that so?" you ask lightly. there's a mischievous grin on your face that matthew knows too well - and his suspicions are confirmed when you begin to splash water back at him, drenching his face and hair.

you giggle as he wipes his face, the same hand sliding up and pushing his dark hair away from his face. the water making his brown locks look even darker. "I let you win and this is how you repay me?"

you shrug again. you don't want to feel chilled, so you drop your shoulders into the water so that your whole body is under the water's cool surface - saved for your neck and head. "yeah - can't think of a better way to show my gratefulness." you tease him.

matthew follows suit and submerges his upper body in the lake. he moves impossibly closer to your body - the water providing a privacy in the public setting. with that in mind, he reaches for you, grabbing your leg to gently drag you through the last bit of water left between your bodies.

you gulp nervously as your leg rest's on him. he doesn't let you go, holding your thigh against his hip while your other leg slips between his own two. you can't find the strength to look away from his gaze - not even concerned if you're friends are eyeing you two suspiciously.

"I can think of a way you can show your gratefulness." matthew whispers, hand moving up your thigh in the water until he reaches your bikini bottoms, fingers moving along your ass cheek and slightly slipping beneath the edge of your bathing suit.

"matty..." you breath. his chest heaves with air as he stares down at you - your cheeks slightly sunburnt to give you a permanent sun kissed glow. your lips plump and pink, dark eyelashes wet and making your eyes look even bigger as you blink prettily up at him.

you hear janie and logan laugh as they get into the water, only a few meters away from your and matthew's intertwined bodies. it has you coming to reality, pushing away from matthew to create an appropriate amount of space between you all while trying to appear nonchalant.

logan was too busy trying to sneak attack you to dunk your head under to notice the tension between you and matthew - janie distracted by logan. your and matthew's touching flying under the radar once again.

after a little more swimming and trying to cool your body down from your sensual encounter with matthew - you all decide to lay in the sun for a little bit longer before heading back to the campsite: saving daniel from his lonesome.

daniel has just got the fire started when you all get back from the beach: the warmth of the flames sooth your chilled damp skin. regardless of the warmth, you slip into your tent to grab a hoodie to further keep you from feeling cold.

logan and matthew had just started the grill when you emerge back outside. logan was preparing the frozen patties for cooking, while matthew was cleaning the grill's top with the metal bristled brush - his biceps flexing with each movement on the bars.

"hey, y/n, wanna help me with the salad?" janie asks from the picnic table. her voice has you quickly looking away from your friends arms and over to her - janie eyeing you playfully as she chops through some cherry tomatoes.

"yeah," you hum, taking a seat across from her. you can feel her still giving you that teasing look, so you busy yourself with slicing through the sticks of celery - cubing them because you know matthew prefers them that way - to avoid her gaze.

a moment later, you hear the brunette sigh, tossing her tomatos and shredded leaves into the red serving bowl. "so," she begins, "what were you and matthew talking about."

you eye her, but she has moved her attention to crumbling feta.

janie continues, "in the laker earlier. it seemed..." she pauses, squinting in thought as she tried to think of her wording - "intense." she settles on, feta clinging to her fingers.

you hum nonchalantly, scooping the cubed celery into your palms and dropping it into the salad. "did it?"

she nods suspiciously, "yeah, and i've been thinking about how the past few years something between you two has seemed rather intense - since college. what's up with that?"

she is talking relatively quiet, but you still glance over your shoulder to make sure nobody is listening - the three boys are laughing around the grill, completely oblivious.

when you meet your friends eyes again, she quirks an eyebrow in your direction knowingly. janie is looking at you like she knows you're deepest darkest secret - not just about the casual hookups between you, but also your feelings for matthew.

you should've known janie would figure it out sooner or later. when you moved to arizona and started at the new highschool, not only had you become close with matthew, but you had become just as close with janie. you were instantly drawn to her bubbly personality and confidence - she was your best girl friend. if you weren't with matthew - you were with the small brunette girl.

as she looks at you, she's not even working on cutting up vegetables for the salad - her full attention is on you.

you don't feel like hiding anymore. "janie," you sigh sadly, hands dropping the knife so you can cover your cheeks, "I have to tell you something."

she huffs happily, leaning further over the picnic table. "spill."

then, quietly and with a much detail as you can manage, you tell your friend everything. you start with when you realized you had feelings for matthew in freshman year and when the crush turned into love. you tell janie about your and matthew's pact about loosing your virginities and then turning 18 and having sex for the first time - about how your relationship turned into one with benefits and how you were still falling deeper in love with matthew.

she listenes intently, every so often making sure the guys are busy and not eavesdropping on your private confession - which you were thankful for as you were way too distracted with your own beating heart to notice if there were prying ears.

when you finish, ending on your brief conversation in the lake that afternoon, janie smiles at you softly. "I had a feeling there was something going on - but I didn't realize you were in love with him."

"really?" you laugh in disbelief, "I thought I was being obvious at times."

she hums in thought, mixing the dressing into the fresh salad. "if anything, I thought it was the other way around. like if it was matthew here telling me he loved you - I wouldn't be suprised."

her words are similar to a punch in the gut, but instead of pain it's a wave of hopefulness and excitement. "what?" you question gently, "what do you mean?"

she laughs gently, "this whole time I thought that he's had a secret crush on you. he's been so touchy with you, and he's always looking at you all cute and blah," she says, "it makes sense now - you've been hooking up."

and now it feels like a punch, you think. matthew was only looking at you and teasing you and touching you in a way that could be construed as being in love because he knew you'd give him sex. and like you've already comes to terms with that - you're okay with that. you love matthew, of course, not just romantically but as your best friend. so as long as he was happy with your arrangement, and still felt comfortable telling you everything and anything like you two have always done - you were happy.

"you're right with that," you tell janie. you reach into the cooler pulled open on the picnic bench, cracking open a white claw to take a gulp. "but seriously, i'm fine with this. i'm used to the unrequited love thing with him, trust me."

she gives you one more smile, "okay, as long as you're okay then i'm okay."

"care for some meat in your buns?" logan says loudly, approaching the picnic bench with a paper plate loaded with burgers. matthew and daniel follow behind him, both laughing like little kids at their friend's attempt at a dirty joke.

"don't be gross," janie stands, grabbing the plate to set it next to the condiments on the other side of the salad and cooler.

you watch as daniel thanks his girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek, making janie smile brightly as she opens the bun bag.

you're hit with a momentary wave of longing as you watch your friend so happy with the man she loves, and you wish it was like that with you and matthew - despite knowing he would never want that with you.

logan, ever the flirt, kisses your cheek loudly and then rounds to the other side of the wooden bench to give janie the same one. "thanks for the salad ladies, love you both." he plops down beside daniel and starts to load his plate with some macoroni salad.

you laugh gently while daniel starts playfully yelling at logan about kissing his girlfriend. subconsciously, you use your shoulder to wipe the cheek your friend had smooched.

matthew sits down next to you, definitely too close for just friends. now that janie knows though, you don't feel to worried about the proximity, letting his leg push up against yours underneath the table.

"you want a burger?" matthew asks you, his hand circling on your lower back.

you nod, "yeah, thanks. just one."

he reaches down the table towards the end farthest away, grabbing your burger and two for himself - he even dresses yours exactly how you love it, which obviously has you smiling. in thanks, you serve him his salads - matthew too distracted with devouring his first burger to serve himself them.

matthew acknowledges your act of service with his calf wrapping around the front of your shin, pulling your leg to rest between his own under the table. and then when he smiles at you all cheesy between bites of his food - you don't even get disgusted, only feeling fuzzy and tingly all over.

you chug the rest of your white claw.

-

"when do you think the fireworks will start?" logan grunts across the bonfire, shoving a marshmallow on his stick roughly. "it's dark as shit."

janie shushes him and tells him not to swear - a couple little kids laugh in the distance to prove her point.

"soon," you tell him, twisting your metal stick that holds your marshmallow over the flames. the gooey ball slowly turning brown and crispy as you spin it. "patience is key, logan."

"yeah, well, my patience is running thin." logan chimes, pushing his own stick into the fire.

matthew laughs beside you, "you don't have patience to begin with."

the blonde scoffs, "y/n, tell the peanut gallery to quiet down."

you and matthew giggle quietly to each other at your friends annoyance. you let your arm bump into his bicep on your shared bench, head briefly resting against his shoulder as you laugh.

your marshmallow catches fire, and you smile victoriously. you pull it out from the bonfire and up to your mouth. the flame from the treat is hot on your face, but you blow it out quickly, leaving you with a melted and charred marshmallow. "alright, matty, i'm ready for the sandwich."

matthew praises your perfectly burnt marshmallow. "yes ma'am," he teases. you watch as he brings his arms up, a graham cracker with a square of chocolate in each hand, clutched between his fingers. you watch as he smooshes the marshmallow between the crackers, smoothly pulling the gooey sticky treat off the stick.

he smiles, "and there you go," matthew hands you the campfire treat, "take a bite of that and tell me it's not the perfectly crafted s'more."

he had been going on about his double deckered s'more since the drive to the campsite - claiming nobody could make the desert as good as he could. you had teased him relentlessly all afternoon about it, so once the fire had gotten started, matthew was quick to get the s'more kit out.

you send him a look, grabbing the s'more and taking a big bite. you feel the marshmallow goo smear onto your lips, graham cracker crumbling to the ground. you chew delicately, matthew watching you the entire time.

you swallow, "it's good."

"just good?" he repeats, eyes widening.

your use your free hand to wipe your mouth, "the best part was the marshmallow - which i contributed. just tasted like a normal s'more with extra chocolate."

he scoffs in disbelief, "which is the best part!"

you scrunch your nose, licking some smeared chocolate from your thumb. "the marshmallow is the best, actually."

he rolls his eyes playfully, "fine." then he dips his head down, taking the rest of your s'more between his teeth and right out of your hand.

you screech, "you better make me another one."

he shakes his head and swallows, "no you didn't like it." he faux's annoyance, turning his face away from you.

"oh my god," you huff.

"can you make me one of your s'mores?" daniel asks from across the small bonfire, leaning forward on his camping chair to catch matthew's eyes.

matthew sighs, "what's the point...my best friend doesn't even like them."

you laugh at his fake huffy tone, "I didn't say I didn't like them!"

he turns back to you, "didn't have to."

you laugh again loudly, and at the sound matthew finally cracks a smile. he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. "i'm teasing you," you whispers into your hairline.

"had no idea," you tell him playfully, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. he smirks down at you - one his his hands coming up to your mouth, where he thumbs the missed marshmallow off your lip.

you swallow nervously but continue to look up at him - the sound of your friends laughter and obliviousness to you and matthew fading into the background.

the squeal of a firework has you looking away just in time for the boom to sound throughout the campsite, sparks of red and blue lighting up the sky in the distance.

"fuck yeah," logan cheers, jumping up from his seat, claiming he gets a better viewing angle if he stands.

janie follows suit, phone out to get pictures and videos of the firework show - daniel at her side as all there backs are now turned to the forgotten flames of the bonfire.

as you watch the beautiful lights, you feel matthew squeeze around your shoulders tighter and then he presses a long kiss to the corner of your mouth.

-

you're one of the last ones sitting by the dying fire, your body flushed with the heat and alcohol. still sitting beside you, matthew laughs deeply at something logan says - his shoulder rubs against yours at the movement. you're also laughing at logan's slurred attempt at a joke, and you shush them gently through your giggles.

logan moves to stand, his lean body swaying slightly as his arms reach up over his head in a long stretch. "should probably head to sleep anyways."

"me too." you nod in agreement, "janie will have us all up before 7 for that hike she's been taking about."

both matthew and logan groan at the thought, heads dropping backwards in protest. you roll your eyes but smile, although you're also not looking forward to the early wake up call, the hiking trail looked beautiful and you were looking forward to the scenery - clearly, the boys couldn't care less.

"alright, kniesy, you want the blue sleeping bag or the green one?" logan teases, his fingers working against the zipper of the tent as he glances over his shoulder at you both.

matthew shrugs nonchalantly. he puts out the last tiny gathering of flames in the pit with a jug of lake water. "i'm not sharing with you. i'll share with y/n...she smells better."

his words make you blush. you turn away and busy yourself with cleaning up the collection of alcohol cans littered around the small campsite - tossing them in one of the empty coolers for disposal in the morning.

"dick." logan scoffs playfully, "I wear dior but suit yourself." logan doesn't protest any further, and clambers into his form of shelter, zipping up the tent's entrance behind him - leaving you alone.

you can hear matthew pick up some beer bottles, the glass clanking together in his hands. he clears his throat, "is that okay?"

you hum lightly with question. you don't turn to look at him, too worried about the reaction your body might have now that you're finally alone with matthew after a day of tension.

"that we share a tent? is that okay?" matthew walks up behind you, and he reaches to grab the can in your hand.

you finally meet his eyes as you look back at him. "course it's okay," you say gently. with your hands now free, they itch to reach out and run over his torso, pull him into you and kiss him roughly right there.

"i've got these if you want to head into bed." matthew tells you quietly, tossing more cans into the cooler.

you blink three times, and you swallow with a quick nod. "okay." you start making towards the direction of now your and matthew's shared tent, listening as matthew cleans up the picnic table. you pause, looking over you shoulder.

as if matthew can feel your stare, he glances back at you. he raises his brows with a smirk at your face - clearly on the verge of saying something. before you can talk yourself out of it, you smile teasingly. "i'll make sure I smell real good for you."

matthew grins, straightening his posture as he finishes cleaning the table he'd been hunched over. under the glow of the stars, you can see matthew's face flush at your comment, and knowing your words had affected him in some way have you blushing.

matthew clears his throat, "looking forward to it."

your blush deepens.

you take two steps backward until you feel the polyester entrance of the tent. matthew sends one more seductive smirk in your direction before you spin around, climbing into your tent in an attempt to calm yourself down.

you can hear matthew tidying up the plastic garbage bags while you take a few deep breaths, pressing a hand to your warm forehead in an attempt to stay grounded. your stomach flutters at the mere thought of matthew coming into the tent with you, never mind the ideas that flood your head of what will happen when you two will finally be alone.

you exhale, kicking your sandals off to the side so you don't trek any dirt into the sleeping area. you had already pumped up the air mattress in preparation for sleep. sleeping bags had always made you claustrophobic: so you avoided them.

quickly, you start fluffing the bedding and shoving your things around until it looks somewhat organized. you're not sure why you feeling so nervous, but there's something about what's been brewing that has your chest tightening and mouth drying. maybe it was because you two were technically in public and not alone - or possibly because you hadn't had sex in a few weeks. either way, the thought of matthew had you trembling.

just as you flick the small portable lamp on and the inside of the tent becomes illuminated with a dim glow, you can hear matthew begin to tug on the tent's zipper - he struggles a few times, no doubt from the combination the alcohol and the darkness of the late night.

"fuck me," matthew mutters as he finally steps in. the sound of his voice sends your heart racing, and you smile gently to try and seem calm. the flashlight is shining from his phone and through his front hoodie pocket - he must've just slipped it in there as he entered. "stupid zipper."

you clear your throat, "maybe it's not the zipper that's stupid..." you trail of teasingly, grabbing onto your duffle bag to lug it on top the mattress.

matthew laughs, raising his brows in your direction. "you're just such a bully today."

you purse your lips, digging through your belongings until you find your lemon printed pyjama set. "you're still bitter because I won the race -"

"by cheating," he reminds you cheekily. matthew must've made a trip to his car after putting the garbage in logan's truck bed, because you see his overnight bag on his arm. he drops it near the foot of the bed with a thud.

"by being smart." you correct him with a hum.

matthew drops down to the mattress beside you, the velvet material puffing under his weight - the movement sends you into his side. now that you're closer, he reaches out slowly, tucking some of your fallen hair behind your ear.

you grip onto your pyjamas to keep yourself present as matthew's eyes bore into yours - a little hazy from the alcohol but they're still the most beautiful eyes you've seen.

his hand moves back, thick fingers threading through strands of hair so he can hold the side of your head, his thumb stroking along your scalp behind your ear.

you think you may have a heart attack. the combination of his intense lustful gaze and his hands on your skin has you squirming.

"you've always been so smart," matthew continues quietly, and his breath tickles against your red cheeks. "expect for s'more knowledge - you're not too smart in that department."

you click your tongue, gently pushing against his peck in protest. "you're such a little shit."

matthew grabs you, his warm palm wrapping around your wrist so you're unable to pull your hand away from his chest. "I miss you," he tells you through an exhale, his finger stroking along the pulspoint on your wrist.

you hope he can't feel how fast your heart is beating. you swallow gently, and your free hand slides up his leg, resting right against the thick muscle above his knee. "i'm right here," you whisper.

matthew nods once, "I know."

the tone of his words seems off, but he doesn't leave you room to question it. matthew leans in, mouth capturing yours in a long awaited kiss. the little moments of tension throughout the day had finally spilled over as his lips slide against yours.

all nerves you'd been feeling disappear at the familiarity of his kiss and you sigh into his mouth pleasantly. slowly, your hand slips up towards his face. matthew allows you to move, releasing his grip on your wrist so you can cradle his jawline with both of your hands.

with his now free hand, matthew grabs onto your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he begins to guide your body backwards - slowly, as if not startle you or rush you.

matthew keeps your lips connected until your back hits the rubber mattress, continuing his delicious assault on your mouth as you fall into a horizontal position. the air mattress squeaks and puffs under the change in position - typically a comical sound, but with the way matthew's lips trial down your jaw and continue down to your jugular, you don't find it humorous. you're too distracted from the wet kisses on your skin and the weight of his body on yours.

matthew pauses where your neck meets your collarbone, nipping at your sunkissed skin before soothing the sting out with his tongue, licking a flat strip over every bite. the feeling has you panting quietly, your hands raking through his thick brown locks. he sucks on to your sweet spot, right in the pit of your collarbone, and your grip tightens - illiciting a moan from matthew.

"lift your hips for me, baby," his command is whispered against the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss there, which sends a shiver through your body.

you do as he requested, lifting your lower half off the bed. you core bumps against his crotch, matthew's semi bumping your bundle of nerves perfectly - the contact sends a moan tumbling past your puffy lips.

matthew hisses, "fuck can't do that baby - feels too good." he pushes off your body, leaning back to rest against his heels.

your smirk, thrusting your hips into the air involuntarily - searching for the friction he had provided just moments before.

matthew reaches towards you, hands landing on your hip bones. he curses, two of his fingers hooking the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down in one rough pull.

instinctively, your legs fall open wider, exposing your bare core further for matthew. your body was clearly ready for whatever was to come next - you feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought.

the dim light catches you, and matthew smirks at the sight your pussy glistening with arousal. "fuck," he curses again. two of his thick fingers slide through your folds, playing and gathering your wetness and spreading it up to your clit. "already so wet for me."

you whine, "please, matty - don't tease. I need you so bad." his fingers prode at your dripping entrance and you sigh pleasantly, tugging your lip between your teeth as you watch him move. matthew slips a finger inside and your back arches off the mattress, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"feel good, baby?" he question, pumping into you lazily - hitting all the right places and nerves that could have you coming in seconds.

you moan again, "I need you inside me."

"yeah, okay," matthew breaths, pulling his fingers from your entrance with a squelch. he makes you suck your arousal off his digits - watching you blissfully and mouth hung open as your tongue swirls along his fingers.

matthew stands up, quickly shoving his pants down his thick thighs. he's left naked from the waist down, only left in his maroon hoodie.

the sight of that has you giggling, biting on your thumb to try and contain your wave of laughter.

matthew laughs as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head in one swift motion - leaving him bare in the privacy of your tent. any and all previous laughter comes to a halt, and you admire his naked form shamelessly. he's always been so sexy, you think. with a broad strong chest and defined abs, accompanied by his thick arms and legs - he was the epitome of perfect.

"fuck," you swear, "come back here."

he listens to you request, naked body soon hovering over you. "shit," matthew curses gently after a quick press to your lips. "I don't have condoms." he tells you, pushing himself further above you with one arm. affectionately, his other hand strokes the hair away from your face.

you shake your head and bring your lower lip into your mouth again - knawing on the swollen skin. "I don't care," you admit to him quitley.

matthew's face lights up, and his brows raise in a silent question. "you sure?"

you shrug with a small smile, "I mean, I haven't like been with anyone in awhile- and i'm clean...if you're-"

"i'm clean," he interrupts you gently.

you stomach swoops with a mix of nervousness and excitement. the lips you had once been knawing at is released with a quiet pop - a wide grin breaking out on your face.

matthew takes the bruised coloured lip between his, licking the skin before bringing you into another kiss. your lips crash together passionately, brushing over one another in a way that makes your body feel like it's on fire. your heart is palpating in your chest when matthew's hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body until it reaches your bare hipbone.

his warm hands slides up, pushing your hoodie towards your chest with his fingers. he breaks the kiss momentarily, matthew's chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath. "arch your back for me."

"m'kay," you hum, lifting your lower back offthe mattress. with the space under you, matthew pulls your hoodie off your torso, pulling it over you head and throwing it towards your duffle bag that had been pushed off the bed - sitting upside down on the polyester floor.

now left in only a yellow printed bikini top, nipples pebbled underneath the thin damp material. matthew's tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and he rips away the cups from your breasts, revealing you completely. "fuck, you're so pretty." he mumbles.

"matty, please fuck me." you whimper, hooking your leg around the curve of his hip, locking yourself in place against him. you tug him down gently, his hard on bumping your bare core roughly.

you moan in unison at the friction. matthew answers you by gripping his throbbing dick in his fist and he pumps himself a few times, readying himself for your warmth. he lines the tip of himself with your hole, gently sliding his head through your dripping wet folds - bumping your clit until your whining.

"matty," you whine. "please."

his head slides into you, slowly, your pussy pulling him in naturally. the full feeling was so beautifully overwhelming, and you push your head further into the pillow under you, mouth falling open in pleasure.

you mewl at his dick filling you, "so much," you mumble, hands blindly finding the edge of your pillow case until you can grip onto it - grounding yourself. "always so much."

"shh... just a little bit more, baby," matthew soothes you, his hand coming up from between your bodies to untangle your hand from the pillow. he interlocks his fingers with yours, squeezing his hand in yours as he slides into you fully.

"oh my- shit," you curse, eyes darting down as matthew begins to thrust into your pussy. your free hand shoots up to hold onto his thick shoulder, keeping yourself in place as the pace begins to pick up.

"god, you feel so fucking good." he moans, leaning down so his lips capture yours. the kiss is more heavy breathing and exploring tongues than anything else, but it all feels too damn good to care.

matthew breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours. his hips and dick continuing to thrust into you at the speed and pressure you love so much.

in that moment, you think how easy it would be for you to tell him you love him. the way he keeps his eyes trained on your face, or the way he touches you so delicately - it's almost impossible to not to slip up and say something. his skilled kisses and forceful thrusts into you, it's all too much.

"you okay, baby?" he huffs, eyes locking on yours as he continues thrusting.

you nod, pushing your lips on his once more. your stomach tingles when matthew immediately kisses you back. he untangles your intertwined hands in favour of reaching between your bodies again, thumbing your sensitive clit.

you moan loudly, "fuck, keep doing that." he silences your noises with a quick peck, continuing the double stimulation on your pussy.

in the three years of having casual sex with matthew, he has come to know your body very well - including when you're going to finish. he feels the way your walls begin to clamp down on his dick, as is if you were trying to pull him deeper into you. your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails no doubt leaving creasing shaped indents on his tan skin.

matthew watches the way your face changes, an intense blissful expression taking over.

"i'm gunna..."

"I know, fuck, cum on my dick." he grunts between thrusts.

the coil in your stomach snaps at his command, and you release on him - your juices flowing from your weeping hole and wetting his lower region.

with three more hard thrusts, matthew moans, pushing into you as he finishes. you feel his cum coat your insides, thick ropes of semen spilling from his head and covering your sticky walls.

matthew grabs a hold of your hip, gently pushing down as he slowly pulls himself out of you. "shit," he curses, watching the way his cum drips from you, pooling against your ass and spilling onto the mattress. "you okay, y/n/n?"

you nod tiredly with a faint smile on your puffy lips, pushing up onto your elbows. "i'm okay," you confirm. "can you get me my pyjamas? I think I threw them on the floor earlier."

matthew laughs gently, "yeah." he crawls off your body, and you admire his naked ass as he walks over to the opposite of the bed to your tipped bag. he picks up your lemon set, tossing them at you gently. "you don't want to naked cuddle?"

you giggle, pulling on your top and buttoning it together. "janie will be in here early - can't have her seeing us naked."

he shrugs, pulling his boxer briefs back up his legs. "nothing wrong with a bit of nakedness."

you squawk, "maybe I don't want her to see you naked."

matthew brings his bottom lip between his teeth, smirking down at you as you pull your shorts on. "why? you'd be jealous?"

"more like embarrassed," you tease.

"hey!" he laughs, crawling back over your body to capture your laughing mouth in another kiss.

Part Four (B):

the summer breeze blows your sundress against your knees, the soft fabric tickling your legs. you sway with the warm air, eyes dancing over the busy park as you wait for matthew to return.

you watch him make his way over, a bright smile on his face as he weaves through walking adults and hyper kids. the sight has you breaking out into a grin, your previously crossed arms falling to your sides just as he reaches you. "and one vanilla cone for a pretty girl."

"why thank you kind sir," you tease with a light giggle. you waste no time, licking a flat strip up the sweet ice cream, moaning gently as the cool desert melts in your mouth.

matthew chuckles at the sound, tongue wrapping around his own cone. "good?"

"mhm!" you mumble in answer, your mouth full of ice cream.

matthew smiles, licking some more chocolate desert off his cone. he grabs your hand in his much warmer palm, interlocking your fingers together as you continue to stroll further into the arizona park.

the bright sun shines over the area, illuminating the vibrant leaves on the trees and the colourful flower beds that sat at every stump and bush. the scene is so relaxing and peaceful, like something from a painting.

matthew has always looked so amazing in the summer, you think. his hair becomes lighter, and he always bulks back up from the end of season weight loss. you watch as his muscles contract under his white shirt, and the sight has your mouth watering. you distract yourself by eating some more of your treat.

"you okay?" he squeezes your hand, "want some chocolate ice cream?"

"i'm fine," you say, "I do want some though - give me a lick." matthew holds his cone out infront of your face, and you grip his wrist to steady his hand while you taste some of his ice cream - taking a good sized amount of chocolate on your tongue.

you smile, pleased, and release your grip - once he pulls back, matthew eyes you suspiciously. "you sure you're okay? you looked pretty deep in thought for a minute there."

"just thinking about how delicious my ice cream is!" you say lightly, sending matthew an overly large grin in hopes to throw him off your track - it fails.

"y/n." he deadpans.

you moan gently, head falling to matthew's bicep. "fine! honestly i'm thinking about how pretty you look in this sunshine."

a fond smile makes its way onto his face, "you're such a sap."

"hey," you scoff, pulling away from matthew's touch. "don't be an asshole, I was trying to be nice and compliment you - I take it back."

"I was joking," he draws out, hands reaching back out for you, "come here." matthew successfully grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back into his space. he then wraps his arm around your shoulders, keeping your body tucked into him as you leisurely walk along.

you pout largely and mumble, "better be."

matthew laughs breathily at your exaggerated facial expression, and he brushes his lips against your sweaty hairline in an apology.

you walk in silence for a few minutes, taking in the busy park while you and matthew finish off your respective ice cream cones. it's moments like this that you cherish so much with your best friend. the moments of complete silence, where the two of your just enjoy each others presence without words. one of the reasons you love matthew so much is because how comfortable he makes you, no matter where you are or what you're doing.

eventually, you take a deep inhale, breaking the silence between you. "thanks for the ice cream, matty. and for bringing me here."

he shrugs nonchalantly, "of course. I feel like we haven't spent time together, just us, in sooooo long. wanted to be with my favourite person."

your face heats up instantly and you smirk teasingly, gazing up at him fondly. "look who's the sap now." you nudge your elbow deeper into his side, and then wrap that arm around his waist so he can't pull away from you.

"oh okay," matthew sighs, "I see how it is."

"i'm kidding," you sing song, laughing gently. your free hand comes up to grab his fingers on the hand that was dangling of your sundress covered shoulders. "dish it but can't take it, matty?"

matthew slows in his steps, making you both come to a gradual stop. he grabs your waist, spinning your body to completely face his as you stand still in the middle of the park. "you're impossible, y/n/n." matthew says with a grin. he takes one hand and reaches for your face, your warm summer flush being covered by his palm.

"shut up," you say through a smile, "you're the impossible one."

"mhm," matthew hums quietly, thumb stroking along your cheek bone as he holds you. you watch the way his eyes move over your face gently, staring at all your freckles and moles, down to your lips and back up to your bright eyes. matthews tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, his fond expression indicating he didn't really hear what you said - too distanced by....you.

you swallow gently, your own eyes never once straying from his face as he studies you. you feel unbearably warm under his gaze, heat bubbling in your blood in the best possible way.

matthew's right hand comes up to brush against the other side of your face, holding you between his large palms. on instinct, you touch his hips, your delicate fingers dusting along the linen fabric of his shirt.

he finds your eyes once more, holding your gaze for a long moment. that fond look had yet to disappear, and if anything it become more prevalent when your eyes locked.

you think you might gasp, or swear or pass out - you're not sure, but your head is spinning with love and happiness under matthew's stare.

you're not sure if you should say anything. you think of maybe asking him if he's okay, but your words die on your tongue when matthew licks his lips again, wetting the plump skin in a way that makes them even more desirable.

a beat passes, and then matthew finally closes the gap between you and captures your lips in his. the pressure is comforting and the way he sucks your top lip into his mouth expertly had your knees feeling weak - gripping onto his waist to keep yourself upright.

the kiss doesn't last long enough before matthew is pulling away - mindful of the busy public setting and the people bustling around the park. you sigh at the loss of contact, and at the sound of your disappointment matthew leans back in, stealing one more chaste kiss.

"you taste like vanilla," matthew says cheekily, he's still holding your face, keeping you close in his space.

you scrunch your nose up, the skin crinkling in the middle of of your face. matthew smiles at the sight. slowly, he releases your face, hands coming down to interlock your fingers once again - tugging on your hand as he begins to walk again.

"you taste like dusty waffle cone." you say, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

matthew chuckles, "you love my dusty waffle cone." he swings your intertwined hands between your bodies, his knuckles brushing the soft material of your sundress with every pass.

you take a long breath in, smiling gently - the scent of peonies and roses invading your senses pleasantly. you look towards matthew and find him already smiling at you.

you shrug at his statement, "I prefer sweet."

his smiles widens, "good thing i'm sweet enough without the ice cream then, huh?"

matthew's teasing has you blushing all the way to your chest and up your ears, nibbling on your lip in an attempt to contain your grin. "good thing."

matthew's smile softens slightly, but the look of amusement never leaves his eyes. he tugs your arm, "c'mon," he says, "let's go get food and then head home - i've been having an urge to binge american pie."

"deal," you smile, "but only if we get pizza."

matthew groans in agreement, "you've got a deal."

Part Four (C): halloween, sophomore year UNI

"whoops," you mumble, arms held out to regain your shaky balance after almost falling over. normally you'd blame your stumbling on the uneven concrete outside your residence building, but the margarita's pumping through your blood were definitely the reason tonight.

"careful," matthew laughs, a strong arm reaching out to grasp on to your waist. one of your devil wings stabs into his ribs, but because of his own alcohol intake, matthew doesn't seem to feel it. "did you want me to come up with you?"

you hum with contemplation, slowing in your steps as you approach the glass doors of residence. "think i'll be okay..." you smirk, spinning in his arms so fast it makes you momentarily dizzy. "unless you want to fuck."

matthew laughs, "we are both too drunk." he's almost suprised at his own common sense - even furrows his brows after he finishes the scentence.

"you're right," it's a sigh from your lips, and you fall forward into his chest, arm circling around his waist over the angel costume. "at least a kiss before I go?"

matthew smirks at your pouty face, your chin pressed between his pecks as you stare up at him. wordlessly, he grabs a hold of your face and kisses you.

the kiss is a little messy, and the flavours of your respective drinks mix between your shared silvia. regardless, it still has your blood pumping in your ears and matthew grinning against your mouth - both of you too drunk to care.

when he pulls away, his eyes are droopy with sleep and lust. "y/n/n," he whispers, "can I tell you something."

"always," you slur.

he brushes over the top of your head, smoothing your frizzy curls. "I purposely rejected girls last year so that i'd loose my virginity to you....because I only wanted it to be you. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."

too drunk to disect his words, you smile clueless, pressing a chaste kiss to the palm of his hand. "I wanted it to be you too."

matthew, who is also too drunk to take in your words or understand his own, smiles cheekily. "wanna get frozen yogurt tomorrow?"

you gasp, "yes!"

the next afternoon when you both wake up, neither of you get frozen yogurt because neither of you remember the conversation.

Part Five:

something has definitely changed between you and matthew. maybe it was just in your head, but ever since the kiss you shared in the park a few week prior, there has been a shift between you.

touches lingered longer, eyes swam with newfound confidence and when he would kiss you, he would do it just for the purpose of kissing. it wouldn't lead to sex or a heated make out, matthew would simply just kiss you hello and goodbye or after a teasing remark.

and sure, it's not that matthew would only kiss you when he wanted sex before that - but it was never for no reason. the park kiss was the first time you felt loved by matthew and when he kissed you because he just felt like it.

you think maybe there's a possibility something was blooming between you. a small chance that matthew had feelings for you - that he loved you.

"hey," matthew whispers, hand squeezing your thigh to grab your attention. "you okay?"

you blink, looking away from the tiny airplane window and over to your friend. you nod, "i'm okay," matthew's eyes scan your features quickly, but you catch his worried eyes - sending a reassuring smile. "just trying to remember if I packed my toothbrush." you lie easily.

matthew seems to buy it, laughing gently into your shoulder. "if you did, i'll buy you a new one."

you smile, and your arms snake around his bicep in a hug. "better be one of those expensive electric ones if that's the case." you tease quietly. matthew laughs again, his arm flexing under your hands.

"anything you want."

only a week after your ice cream date in the park, matthew had asked if you wanted to come with him to toronto for a week. he said that around august every year, the guys started to get back into the groove of things, so he was thinking of heading back for a brief visit before moving back for the season.

when you asked why he wanted you to come, he said he wanted his favourite person to meet his toronto family, which obviously sent you into a loving spiral. it was enough for you to agree, packing your bags and accompanying your best friend to canada a week later.

you find yourself turning to look out the window once again, the CN tower looking back at you from a few miles in the distance. a wave of excitement floods you, and your turn back to matthew.

"i'm excited to meet everyone," you admit. one of your hands move from his arm to grab his hand that was on your leg, palm coming down on the top of his hand. "can't wait for them to tell me how much of pest you are in the locker room."

he scoffs playfully, "the only reason you want to see everyone is so that you can talk shit?... I should've known better."

you laugh, hiding your face in matthew's broad shoulder. he smiles at the sound, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile into his shirt at the feeling, letting your brain run wild with feelings.

"are you sure it's okay that i'm staying with you?"

"course," matthew hums, "john and aryne are so excited to meet you. aryne has already said how stoked she is to have a girl in the house for a week."

that has you grinning, squeezing his hand happily. "I can't believe i'm going to meet an nhl superstar," you whisper giddy.

matthew quirks a brow, "you've met me. I thought I was an nhl superstar?"

"you'll still be my favourite," you trail off, tilting your head up so brush your lips against his, giving matthew a chaste kiss.

'attention passengers, we will be making our descend to toronto pearson international airport now - please ensure you remain seated and keep your seatbelts buckled until landing."

matthew pulls away from your kiss, giving your thigh another assuring squeeze.

—

"no way!" you grin, your knife slowing is it cuts through your piece of saucy chicken, "what did you do?" you asked amused, stabbing your food before bringing it to your mouth.

aryne tavares swallows her mouthful of water, placing the glass down gently. "well, I panicked for sure! I ushered axton to go with steph, and handed the baby to jake's wife. then I ran after jace! he sure is small but god did his small legs outrun me."

you laugh lightly, slowly chewing your piece of chicken before swallowing. "that's sweet though, regardless."

"I know," she smiles sweetly, eating some of her own honey garlic seasoned meat.

beside you, matthew laughs as well, shoving another mouthful of rice in his mouth. "he made me ride home with them because he was worried - held my hand the whole time." he tells you between chews of his food.

you coo, forking some of your crispy potatoes.

aryne and john tavares had picked you up from the pearson airport terminal, and they greeted you like you were apart of their family and have known you for years. immediately, you felt welcomed by the tavares', all of you falling into comfortable conversation on the drive to their home.

you and aryne had cooked dinner together, laughing and talking like the two of you had done it many times before - making a delicious honey garlic glazed chicken with whole grain rice and crisp baby potatoes.

as you all sat down to eat, john and aryne wasted no time jumping into stories about matthew and his first few months in the NHL - including the most recent one that aryne had been sharing: when matthew got his concussion and their son, Jace, had ran through the arena to make sure matthew was okay.

"didn't stop him from whacking me with a mini stick the next morning," matthew teases after your fond coo.

you all laugh gently, not wanting to wake any of the kids from where they slept upstairs - wiped out from spending the day at their grandparents.

"I love that story," you admit fondly, finishing off your portion of perfectly seasoned rice.

"matthew said you would," john muses, sending your friend a knowing glance through his thick dark lashes, a smirk beginning to tug on the captain's mouth.

"did he now?" you tease in matthew's direction, further contributing to the blush rising on matthew's warm face. he chuckles gently, eyes trained on his empty dinner plate to  avoid his captains tease and your soft gaze.

"he talks about you all the time," john continues to tease, laughing as his younger teammate splutters with embarrassment. "think I know more about you than I do about matthew."

aryne scolds her husband with a smile, smacking his arm gently.

"all good things I hope?" you question gently, a hopeful smile tugging your lips upwards as you look around.

matthew clears his throat quickly. "always" he tells you, rubbing along the top of your thigh, his warm palm tickling your exposed skin underneath the dining room table.

you blush, clearing your throat before taking a healthy sip of your water.

—

the weight of matthew's body on top of yours is foolproof. although his full weight isn't on you, the heat of his skin has you feeling amazing.

the spare bedroom popcorn ceiling of the tavares house is staring down at you, bright white and crisp. the room still smells like matthew - like he never left his home in toronto. his clothes still in the closet, and his cologne and old spice deodorant on the dresser.

a smile breaks out on your face at the sight and thought of matthew being so comfortable and happy in toronto, your eyes darting to his as he looks down at you - his own grin playing at his lips.

"I can believe i'm in your room."

his brows pull together ever so slightly, his lips tugging further upwards. "you've seen this room before."

"yeah," you sigh, "but only on facetime. this is different - I love it."

matthew laughs gently, face dipping down to hide in the crook of your neck. his hair tickles your skin, and the tip of his nose nudges against your pulse point. matthew presses his lips on your sweet spot, but instead of kissing you, he blows a raspberry. the feeling has you squirming, a tiny squeal falling form your lips as you laugh - trying to escape the tickle sensation.

he pulls away to look at you, a cheeky smile on his face.

"you're ridiculous," you laugh, pinching the inside of his bicep.

matthew's smile widens, "you love when I do that."

"no I don't." your smile gives you away, and matthew is leaning back in, blowing a quick raspberry on your flushed cheek - eliciting another laugh from you. he soothes the tickle with a quick kiss, turning your face more pink.

"I missed you so much when I was here," matthew says gently, "I can't believe that you're with me right now."

you blink in suprise, a fond smile blooming on your lips. "nowhere else i'd rather be."

he quirks a brow up playfully, "than with me?"

"no," you deadpan, "this bed. god, that nhl money really gets you the expensive mattresses, huh?" you tease, stretching your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretching motion.

matthew tongues his cheek with a grin before using one of his hands to tickle your exposed under arm. you squeak again, bringing your arms down quickly.

a moment passes, and then matthew is holding your cheek, his face coming down again but this time to kiss you softly. like usual, your stomach swoops, the feeling of his lips tenderly pressing into yours nothing short of perfect.

he pulls away an inch and then presses one more long kiss to your lips. you sigh pleasantly, eyes fluttering open to meet his blue ones again.

in between your spread legs, you feel matthew's dick twitch through his lulu shorts, right against your core. he groans quietly, "you know how many times i've jerked off in this bed thinking about sex with you?"

a mix of a laugh and gasp passes your lips, "matty! that's so gross."

he laughs amused, "and you love it."

you really do.

"so, what? i'm just laying in your cum? you're nasty." you laugh again, covering your face with in the crook of your elbow.

gently, he tugs your arm away, revealing your face to him once more. "my cum is literally in you."

you shush him, burning a deep burgundy all over.

"hey," matthew starts, "tomorrow I was thinking we could go around the city? do all that shitty tourist stuff until our heads explode. then tomorrow night, mitch and steph are having a get together at this club, thought we could go. then you can meet everyone else."

you smile brightly as you listen to matthew, enjoying the way he absentmindedly plays with the baby hairs around your face, pushing them off your forehead as he talks. "sounds perfect," you hum once he finishes.

matthew's smiles and he nods, pressing two quick kisses to your lips.

—

matthew woke you up at 7 a.m. the next morning, claiming you two had to get to the aquarium before the tourists did - when you reminded him that the two of you are also tourists, he shushed you quickly, making you laugh as his index finger pressed to your lips.

like he said he would, matthew took you around the whole city. he showed you the most iconic tourist spots in toronto - like the CN tower and museum, as well as bringing you to leafs square and showing you all his favourite spots. all day, matthew was so bubbly and happy showing you everywhere - he talked and laughed with you, never letting go of your hand or waist as he dragged you around toronto.

for a late lunch, matthew brought you to a cute cafe in trinity bellwoods, which was so delicious. while you both ate cheesy sandwiches, he had trapped your leg between his own, smiling gently anytime you caught gazes. it was all so....domestic and wonderful - you fought hard to not grin like a manic the entire day.

"you still up for tonight? everyone's looking forward to meeting you." matthew spoke into your ear on the walk back to his parked car, arm wrapped around your shoulder to keep you close.

"yes," you said, "i'm excited." and then matthew kissed you right outside the sky dome for everyone to see.

you were....so in love with him.

—

you sighed, hands flattening your black skirt down as you checked your outfit over in the bathroom mirror. your top glittered as it caught the warm glow of the lightbulbs above, elevating a rather simple outfit into one appropriate for an expensive night club.

still unsure, you brought you lip between your teeth, tasting the strawberry lip stain as you did. "matty," you called out gently, padding out of the en suite and into the spare room matthew's stuff occupied, "is this okay?"

sitting on the mattress, matthew looks up from his phone at the sound of your voice. instantly, his eyes soften and glaze over, his plump lips parting as he drinks you in from head to toe.

he stands up, phone long forgotten as he makes his way over towards you. "more than okay," matthew mutters, reaching out to run his calloused fingertips over your bare shoulder, "i'm going to have to fight off other men - you look so pretty. i'm pretty good at fighting though, so don't worry."

"loser," you chime with a smile, "think it's appropriate?"

"yes," he smiles, "they'll be falling at your feet."

you roll your eyes playfully, brushing past him to grab your shoes in your small travel bag, rifling through your options. "is the uber almost here?"

he nods, watching as you pull out your favourite pair of shoes. "yeah, they're about to pull up." matthew answers, walking back over to your side.

"m'kay," you hum, strapping on the heels of your sandals. you teeter without your full balance, and matthew immediately grabs your arm to steady you.

you fight back your grin, finishing with the buckle.

matthew leads you outside with a hand on your lower back, gently guiding you into the back seat of the uber. you think he may choose to sit in the front seat, but he climbs in after you, sliding beside you effortlessly.

in the short ride to the nightclub, matthew's hand doesn't leave your leg, his palm either squeezing the meat of your thigh or a finger stroking along your tanned skin.

there's a moment when your driver makes a turn onto the street for the club, and matthew looks down at you fondly. his free hand brushes away some hair, lingering by your ear when he whispers, "being with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from."

you feel your body melt into the backseat, your grip on his bicep tightening as you stare up at him. without knowing what words to say, you choose to lean in, kissing him with as much love you can put into a kiss.

as matthew pulls away with a giddy smile, getting ready to guide you out the uber and into the line for the nightclub - you decide you're ready to tell him how you feel. when you both are back home, you're going to confess your love to him and you think - after this trip - he will feel the same.

you can see the way matthew looks at you, how he touches you and the words he says - you are positive your best friend is in love with you. the thought has you giddy, letting matthew pull you into the club with smiles on both your faces.

a cheerful loud chorus of greetings are thrown in your direction as you and matthew approach the teams occupied table at the back of the club. watching matthew light up at seeing and hearing his teammates reactions to him, instantly had you beaming.

your smile widens as matthew introduces you to everyone - first as a group, and then to everyone individually. he praises you everytime, which has you blushing. and when he doesn't introduce you as his best friend, but rather his girl, you just about melt into the sticky flooring.

everybody is friendly with you, and as you sit between matthew and steph marner, you've never felt more included in a new group of people before. steph asks about anything and everything she can think of, and you answer with just as much passion and enthusiasm as she has. then the other wags chime in and ask you about yourself - matthew smiling fondly with an arm strewn over the back of your chair - it was all you could of wanted.

the first hour is spent catching up and getting to know everyone at the table, laughter and appetizers shared between you all.

it was all going perfectly, and then, "kniesy, does your girlfriend want another drink?" you hear jake mcCabe ask matthew. you tune out amber brodie's words at the question, your heart thumping and stomach churning as you anticipate matthew's gentle correction.

she's not my girlfriend, but she'll probably want another one or we're just friends, but sure.

"hey," matthew mumbles against your ear, "want another drink?"

you smile through your momentary moment of shock, "yea...thanks."

matthew didn't correct the title of your relationship to him.

your smile widens, and you turn back to amber with a new sparkle in your eyes.

the music is a dull thump in your ears, the bass of the song sending vibrations through your body as you sway with the beat. matthew's hands are all over you, sliding down your curves and spinning you around to dance with him. it feels like your 18 again, getting drunk and dancing your nights away at the alchemy.

you think you've been out here for at least an hour, and your feet are starting to ache - but you don't find yourself to care. you can see some of matthew's teammates dancing on the floor as well, laughing and moving with one another a little bit aways from you both.

you still can't believe how nice and kind everyone of matthew's teammates and their significant others are - you hope you see them more often.

you hope you'll be coming down to toronto during the season to watch matthew play this season - sitting in the WAG box and wearing your friends last name on your back. steph has already (very tipsily) shouted about how she's adding you to their groupchat - the rest of the girls agreeing just as loud.

you feel so at home.

matthew's hand slides down over the round of you ass, squeezing the flesh tightly. you're pulled from you own thoughts at the feeling, blinking hard to regain reality. there's a glimmer in his eyes, sparkling under the blue lights and he smirks.

"I want to kiss you so bad," he says over the music, his words hitting the side of your face as he leans down.

thankfully, matthew's slightly hunched position has him close enough for you to be able to turn your head and speak directly into his ear. "kiss me," you tell him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you do so.

the kiss is messy and hot. the flavours of your respective drinks mixing on your tongues as they swirl in a dance of their own. you feel matthew smile into the kiss, which has you grinning as well.

somebody hollers in passing, and when you open your eyes you catch sight of mitch and steph behind you - sending you both grins and thumbs up, clearly the two of them for the cat calling moments before.

the combination of being flustered, the kiss and being surrounded of sweaty moving bodies has enough for you to pull away form matthew, swallowing thickly. "I need a drink."

"m'kay," he hums, "lets go back to our table first? then you can sit for a bit while I get us some drinks?"

you grin, nodding in agreement, matthew grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers, pulling you through the crowd of people and in the direction to the table.

the table is covered in various picked through appetizers, half empty glasses and bottles. there's a few people still sitting around and socializing- mostly the older guys who don't feel like dancing.

there's somebody there you haven't met, a pretty blonde girl who is chatting happily to pontus holmbergs girlfriend near the end of the table.

matthew sees her too, and immediately he tenses, his hand in yours going limp as his body goes still, eyes wide and face pale.

you frown at him, "hey, what's wrong-"

"matthew?" the girl asks loudly, a grin taking over her perfect face as she bounds over to you both. "I didn't think you'd be here!"

the girl hugs matthew's tense shoulder and then...she kisses his cheek- very close to the side of his plump pair of lips.

you stomach falls along with your face. you pull your hand away from your friends, bringing it back to your side just as the girl turns in your direction, arms still draped over matthew's shoulders.

"i'm hayley," she says, "i'm matthew's friend."

matthew blinks hard, turning to you with an expression of guilt and sadness and fear....and your heart shatters.

she continues, "well, we've like hooked up a few times. is that friends, I don't know," hayley laughs, clearly unaware of the growing tension, "anyways, who are you? I don't think we've met."

matthew opens his mouth to speak, but you don't let him and you cut him off with a closed mouth smile, "just a friend from home."

"cute," hayley hums.

you nod, tears beginning to gather along your waterline. matthew watches you with that same shocked look, eyes bewildered and chest heaving. the walls feel like they are closing in on you, and your throat closes so you can't breath properly.

"I need some air," you say quickly and quitley, your eyes downcast as you turn around, darting through the crowd of the nightclub and to the door - leaving hayley, the team and matthew without another glance.

you begin to cry as soon as you step outside. your stomach is sitting heavy in your belly, weighing you down as your insides crumble with disappointment and heartbreak.

you don't know where you are going, but you start walking down the sidewalk. you didn't know where you were downtown, but you knew you couldn't go back inside and watch hayley hang over the man you love - even worse, you can't watch the way matthew lets her.

"y/n!"

you don't turn around, speeding up your walk. you pull out your phone, opening the uber app. you are already planning on getting a ride to the nearest hotel for the night - you'd get your bags tomorrow.

"y/n!" matthew calls from behind you again, "please, don't walk away."

you ignore him.

you can hear his footsteps on the pavement getting closer, and you bite down on your lips to stop the gut wrenching sob from leaving you.

"please let's just talk." matthew says loudly, "why are you so upset? stop walking away!"

you stop walking quickly and turn around forcefully. matthew takes a step back, closer than you anticipated, and stares at you breathing heavily, his brows pulled together as he sees your tear soaked face.

you huff, "you lied to me matthew."

he cringes at your angry tone and the use of his full name. matthew closes his eyes momentarily and takes a deep breath. "I should've said something sooner, I know, but it's nothing - there's nothing going on."

you laugh exasperated, "but clearly there was! fuck, I thought we had no secrets."

"we don't!" matthew sighs, "I didn't feel like it was important enough to mention."

"not important enough to mention?" you repeat, brows raised in suprise. "did you forget that we are having sex, matthew? god, I let you fuck me without a condom when you've been sleeping with someone else! the first thing you should've done was tell me."

"I didn't want it to get blown up like how it is right now," he seethes, "honestly, this is why I didn't tell you."

you scoff, "don't make this my fault!" you tell him roughly. "I don't care that you hooked up with somebody matthew! it's the fact you never told me - even before we had sex without protection. I told you there was nobody else and you said the same," you sigh gently, "janie said it first, last week she said we should of had an exclusivity talk a long time ago-"

matthew squints, "you told janie about us? what the fuck."

"you lied to me matthew!" you repeat loudly.

his expression falls, and he sighs gently, blue eyes meeting the sidewalk under his shoes.

a beat passes between you.

"you're making me feel guiltier than I already feel," he tells you harshly.

you laugh harshly again, "good! god matthew, I can't fucking believe this right now! bringing me here and introducing me to your teammates. the touches and kisses and looks you've been giving me! what you said in the cab! I thought...." you pause, bringing your lip into your mouth.

matthew's eyes soften, "you thought what?" he asks you gently. when you don't answer right away, he takes a step towards you, hand outstretched like he will reach out and touch you.

you shake your head, laughing dryly as another set of tears spring into action, dampening your cheeks. you take a step away from him, ignoring the frown tugging at his lips and the emotions in his eyes. "I thought nothing, matthew." you turn away, continuing to walk down the street.

"no," matthew says, catching up and grabbing your arm, spinning you back around and keeping you in place, "don't walk away, y/n. we need to talk."

you sigh sadly, eyes closing as you desperately try and keep your tears from falling further. "what are we doing, matthew?"

he frowns deeper at your question, his brows drawing together as he looks down at your heartbroken expression. matthew doesn't know what to say, eyes darting between the two of yours in search of some sort of indication- an answer.

"I can't keep doing this. I can't keep lying to myself that I don't want more with you, because it's fucking me up so badly." you admit quietly, salty tears falling down your cheeks and wetting your mouth. you weren't expecting to say that to him - especially tonight. but you were so tired and distraught, your body was tired of fighting for his sake.

slowly, matthew's expression changed, mouth slightly parted as he breaths deeply. "what did you say?

"nothing," you sigh again, "clearly this arrangement we have doesn't work for us anymore. go back inside with hayley, don't let me stop you anymore."

finally, you walk away from matthew. he calls your name once more, but you don't dare turn to look, keeping your eyes on your phone as you order an uber - leaving your best friend and your heart on the streets of toronto.

Epilogue:

you booked a flight home the next morning. you had to use your entire credit card balance, which you would ultimately suffer for, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

you cried to entire flight home, starring out the small window quitley as music blasted through your headphones - thinking about your fight with matthew over and over again until you landed back in arizona.

as soon as you got the wifi at the airport, you called janie, crying into your phone as you asked her for a ride home. she picked you up, and immediately you told her what happened with matthew - hiccupping through salty tears and laboured breaths.

you were so devastated.

locking yourself in your bedroom as soon as janie dropped you home, not even making an appearance for dinner. you silenced your phone and cried yourself to exhaustion.

you cringe in the early morning sun, tucked solemnly between your fuzzy blankets - cringing further at how stupid you must look thinking that your best friends love wasn't unrequited anymore - that matthew loved you back.

the thought of seeing matthew again seemed taxing - you couldn't see him. not only had you borderline confessed your feelings for him in the middle of the fight, but your heart got shattered in the process.

the look on his face when you said it - makes your stomach churn at the mere thought.

not only was there that heartbreak to process, there was also the whole thing of matthew having a girl in toronto - one that was well enough associated with him for somebody to feel the need to invite her out to the club.

he had slept with her, and then didn't tell you - he kept it all a secret, and when you asked about it, he lied to your face. matthew fucked you without protection knowing that - and he let you believe there was something more growing between you.

sniffing, you sit up in your bed, falling back against the padded headboard with defeat. your gold plated clock sitting above your desk reads 8:37, a reminder of just how early you'd naturally woken up - tear stained cheeks and headache included.

a knock sounds at your door quietly, pulling you from your pity party and a confused frown begins to tugs at your lips. your parents should be at work already, and janie hadn't mentioned coming over. perhaps your mom was home today, or janie was coming to keep you company - you wouldn't of got the message because your phone was still very much silenced.

"y/n?" the voice is muffled through the door, but you'd recognize the sound of his anywhere. after all, you've been replaying anything he's every said to you over in your mind since freshman year.

"y/n? are you awake?" matthew questions again.

you shoot up out of bed, bare feet padding to the closed door. matthew hears the springs of the mattress through the door as you move and the sound of you shuffling towards him.

you don't say anything but matthew had the conformation you're there and awake - all the conformation he needed that you were alive. you hadn't responded to any of his calls or texts - he's pretty sure he even emailed you, desperate to get you to talk to him.

so like any logical person would, matthew hopped on the next flight to arizona, suitcase still in his car while he knocks on your bedroom door.

"can you please open the door? I need to talk to you." he pleads gently.

your voice is shaky, tears of embarrassment and pain threatening to spill. "about what?"

matthew breaths a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice - although you don't sound like you usually do. you sound sad and tired...and that breaks his heart. he sighs again, and firmly asks again, "open the door."

you find your self hesitating for a moment, hand hovering over the bronze knob as you think about what's to come. maybe matthew wants an apology - your hasty exit from the club and making a scene in the streets was embarrassing for him. or maybe he's here to let you down, tell you that you can still be friends, but he doesn't have feelings - or worse, he can't be friends with you anymore.

the unknown is eating you alive, and with a deep breath, you turn the door handle, pulling open the door that separates you from him.

his face changes into something similar to relief at the sight of you, and you look down to the floor, knawing on your lip as you try to stay calm.

"what are doing here?" you ask. you look back towards his kind face, your brows pulled tight as you take him in.

he doesn't seem angry or upset. if anything he looks nervous...anxious even. you wonder if there's a reason for that, after all, he has cut his own trip short and come home to arizona for this conversation.

"did you mean it?" matthew ignores your question, taking a step closer to you. "what you said?"

he has to be talking about your brief confession outside the nightclub during the fight, you think, and you stomach drops. you knaw your bottom lip, further shredding the soft skin you'd been tugging on all night. you nod your head once, so quick you're not sure if matthew even saw.

but he did see it, and he breaths what seems like a sigh of relief, a very faint grin beginning to make its way onto his face. matthew clears his throat, "I did a shitty thing," he starts quietly, his adam's apple with a nervous swallow, "I lied to you because I was embarrassed. I lied because we're not just friends and we haven't been for a long time."

you mouth drops, heavy breaths falling past your lips. before you can even fathom your response, he continues. "I should've told you about that girl, even if I didn't want to. I only hooked up with hayley because I was trying to forget about my feelings for you. I know we're best friends, but I want to be more. so if you really meant what you said the other night, say it again. let me hear you say it again." he takes a deep breath, and an airy chuckle leaves his lips, "and I know this is a lot before 9 in the morning, but I need to hear you say it."

you swallow, saliva thick with nerves. pushing your messy hair off your face, hands desperately trying to keep busy. you don't know what to think. "is this a joke? are you only saying this to make me feel better?"

his brows draw together and he frowns - fingers itching to reach out and touch you. "I would never joke about what I feel for you."

matthew knies confessed he has feelings for you. everything you've ever wanted, everything you've longed for is about to happen - is happening.

"matty," you breath, "I love you and i've loved you for years...and I know that's more than what I said the other night and I hope it's not too much for you, but-"

he kisses you.

matthew holds you close as he leans down to capture your lips with his own, bottom and top enclosing around yours as he kisses like he always does: perfectly.

a moment later, your lips part and breathlessly, he pulls away, forehead resting against yours as you two catch your laboured breath.

"how long?"

"what?" you question quietly.

"how long have you loved me?" he whispers softly.

"since highschool," you admit.

"god," matthew whispers wondrously with a small smile, "I wish we had this conversation sooner....because i've loved you since freshman year. that's why I never had a girlfriend and that's why I proposed the idea of loosing our virginities to one another. I wanted to loose my virginity to you - and only you since the moment we met."

"you've liked me since highschool?" you ask dumbfounded, your pointer finger gesturing between you. "we were both really oblivious, huh?"

"I thought I was being obvious," matthew admits with a laugh, thumb rubbing along your cheekbone.

you shrug, hand coming up to hold his wrist tightly - keeping him close. "well, I think I was the only one being oblivious- janie knew you had a crush on me."

"damn," he smiles, "janie is smarter than I thought."

you giggle just as matthew leans back in, kissing you with as much force he can manage - and this time, you're sure of it - it was love.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[mosaickiwi]

Patience

hi i really like this post so i wrote it!!! (my hobbies include robbing sai)

warning: Angel coming down from a panic/anxiety attack while Ren waits in da hallway. Also a little self loathing if u squint?

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

The tightness in your chest was finally waning. You took a deep breath—the easiest one you'd had in what seemed like hours. 

It felt cold on the floor now. Or maybe it'd been like that since the moment you locked yourself in. But you were more aware of it, at least. You leaned back against the wall with a sigh, closing your puffy eyes. Though your hand trembled, you gently rapped your knuckles on the marble flooring.

A faint knock on the door to your right came in response.

[REDACTED] had been there the whole time while you cried. They never said a word, but always answered you in some form. I'm here.

Vulnerability was shameful according to the voice in your head. You were making gradual progress to get rid of that voice, to give yourself the grace you gave others to seek comfort when needed. And if he couldn't see you, letting it all out didn't feel so bad. All you needed was to know that they were close by.

You tried to speak and only managed to throw yourself into a coughing fit from how raw your throat was. Hunching over with your head on your knees, you could only wait until it was over. There were hurried footsteps from the other side of the door that you barely heard over the haggard sounds.

This time, they reached out first. It wasn't a knock like usual, but your phone vibrating atop the marble. You felt around on the floor until it was within your grasp. The simple message on screen turned clear as you gently wiped at your eyes, still blurry from earlier.

water?

Despite your exhaustion, you laughed, then silently winced at the slight pain it caused. Any help or care he could offer was always within seconds when it came to you. 

It took you a few measured breaths to gather yourself enough to unlock the door. Along with a thin line of light, a water bottle slid through the small gap, only the tips of his scarred fingers coming into view before they disappeared altogether. You opened the door a little wider and tilted your head to peek out at him.

His dark mess of hair greeted you, rather than his face. [REDACTED] was sitting on the floor, almost the same as you were minutes ago with his back to the wall, knees bent and arms crossed over them. They made sure to keep their head turned away. He knew you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.

You stretched out into the hallway to touch his shoulder. It was the only way you thought to offer some form of a thank you in the moment. Their muscles flexed and shifted under your fingers, but otherwise, they didn’t acknowledge you.

The room seemed stuffy now, so you kept the door open just a crack for a little fresh air. You scooted back to your place beside the door, then slowly drank the water in peaceful silence, the man that sat still as a statue within arms reach at the corner of your vision. Everything still ached in some way from the crying session. But it wasn’t as long as usual. You tapped on the floor and watched him.

Through the space no bigger than your pinky finger, you saw your partner immediately put one hand to the wall, and knock back.

[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART THREE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, Pedro being a dick but also a tiny little bit of fluff

A/N: I'm so sorry but I can't manually tag anyone on the post, the app won't just let me do it!

1.7k words

PART ONE | PART TWO

If someone had asked Pedro where he got his obsession with you from, he would be too embarrassed to tell. But first things first, he would clarify that he was not obsessed with you, he could never have such a weird, creepy feeling towards you. He loved you. He loved you like a friend, like a brother, he cared for you, he enjoyed having you in his life, you always supported him, believed in him and he was so grateful for that. He had never had enough of you in his life, except when you demanded something more than he could give you. He couldn't be your boyfriend, he just couldn't imagine mixing things up like that, of course you were pretty, he wasn't crazy to think otherwise, but how could he give you something he didn't have? You were young, he was older, you probably would want to get married and have kids, and well, he had chances of that throughout his life with a few women and he always backed down from this kind of commitment. Plus, after his much deserved breakthrough he was finally able to experience the Hollywood lifestyle for bit, women, parties, money. He would've been crazy if he'd said no to that, right?

Still, he didn't get why for the past few days he just couldn't get you out of his mind, of course, you two were friends, he worried about you, as you hadn't been talking much and though he knew damn well what he did to you in order to make you pissed off at him, he still pretended he didn't. He told himself it wasn't a big deal, he even convinced himself if you'd found a hot guy at the party, you would've the same to him. In his defense, there were probably hundreds of attractive men there, and you could have hooked up with any of them, so there was no need to throw a fit. Well, that was just what he told himself when he felt his heart clench at the sight of you online and not talking to him, or when you saw you posting stories with your friends or daily things you once shared with him, and saw he wasn't included.

Then, he began dreaming about you. And that was something he did not expect. Every night he would have the same dream over and over, he'd would see you in his home, looking comfortably and cozy on his couch, curling up in a blanket, sometimes with a book in hands or sometimes watching TV. When this little toddler would come running towards you and jumping onto your lap, giggling and calling you mommy. Even in the unconscious of sleep, his heart still clenched at the sight, especially when the kid would look towards him. Sometimes, the toddler was a little boy, and sometimes it was a little girl. When he dreamed about you and the boy, he always had the same eyes as Pedro and the messy hair. When he dreamed about the little princess and you, she looked exactly like a tiny version of you, but with the same beautiful brown eyes as well.

Pedro then, would wake up with a gasp and panting, rubbing his hands over his face and looking around. The dream always felt so real and each time he went to sleep, the desire to see you again grew stronger and stronger inside of him. So it was a fair assumption that he waited excitedly to see you at the dinner party he was throwing. There were other people attending, of course but he couldn't even hide the fact that the only one that truly mattered was you.

Pedro waited for you the whole night, he was warm and sweet to everybody, as always, greeting people, making them comfortable and being the star of the party, but he felt something was missing. You were missing. He still checked his phone anxiously every ten minutes to see if you'd texted him, maybe to let him know you'd be late or something but couldn't hide his disappointment when he got nothing. Eventually people got hungry and he had no other choice but to serve dinner. He had picked your favorite dish and couldn't wait to see your face once you realized it, but as you never showed up, he didn't get the chance to see your beautiful eyes lighting up and your sweet smile.

He sighed heavily once the last guests left his house and grabbed his phone one more time. He had texted you multiple times during the evening and it wasn't worth it, so he went to bed instead, knowing he'd see you at least in his dreams.

•••

You decided to go to the gym after days of not showing up, you would always say you were too busy with work, or your finals but the truth was you were straight up avoiding Pedro. You just didn't want to risk running into him there and have to face him, not when his gym clothes hung tight against his fit body, or when he smiled at you, his skin with the sweaty glow of someone who just finished an intense activity, one that you fantasized very often. No, you couldn't let yourself be fooled again, if he wasn't going to be a decent friend, then you weren't even sure if you still wanted to be friends. But that was not the time to depress yourself overthinking about that. You grabbed your gear and headed to the gym.

Pedro had already worked out that day, but his phone beeped when he got a new notification. He'd turned on the notifications of your profile, so he'd know whenever you made a new post. Opening your story he saw you were in your usual gym clothes

"Ay ay princesa, tienes un cuerpo maravilloso" he whispered as he watched his picture and frowned as he noticed he hadn't seen you in forever at the gym and groaned, finally realizing you were avoiding him on purpose. He felt so angry he decided he would talk to you personally, even if he had to follow you to the gym.

He didn't get much traffic on the way and grinned as he saw your car at the parking lot. Getting his sunglasses on, he walked through the sidewalk and entered the building, greeting everyone he knew and looking for you. It didn't take long for him to recognize your frame, he'd been watching your body for a couple of years and enjoying the view to the point he could recognize you in a crowd of people. He only didn't recognize the man that was next to you. You were getting ready for yoga practice and doing stretching exercises with the help of the guy Pedro had never seen. He was taller than Pedro, and more muscular as well. Judging by the way other yoga girls looked at him, he could assume your new friend could be considered handsome.

And he didn't like that.

In fact, he hated it.

If Pedro thought he was angry when he found out he was being avoided by you, he was in for a ride when he saw the moment the man placed his hands on your hips. You had to bend over and stretch and he was giving you support, but to Pedro that was a real absurd. How could that asshole touch you like that in front of everyone? How could you not say anything? For so long he was the only one who touched you like that, even if it wasn't in a erotic way, still, he was the only man who had his hands on you.

His blood boiled and he never felt that way, actually he did, several times when he was dating other women throughout his life, but he never felt that towards you. At that point he didn't even know if he should go and talk to you, he actually felt ashamed of being there, watching you from afar like a goddamn stalker. He was about to turn back and leave when he heard the yoga structure dismissing the class and your giggles as the other man got behind to talk to you alone. He could hear only your muffled voices but was able to catch some of the conversation and quickly learned the guy's name was Liev. He rolled his eyes, finding the whole scene pathetic and infuriating but stopped once more when he heard you agreeing to go out for a coffee with him.

Pedro felt rage shake his body, he didn't believe you ditched him and the dinner he'd especially made for you but yet thought it was acceptable to go out with a guy you had just met. He wanted to storm into the room, get you away from that weird guy and put some sense into your mind, but apparently it was no use.

He quickly returned to the parking lot and got into his car, trying to calm down and think straight. There was nothing he could do, he wasn't your boyfriend, at that point he wasn't even sure if you were still friends and yet he was possessive, you were his and no one else's.

He saw you walking out with Liev and decided to follow you, feeling his heart clench once he realized you went to the bakery you both used to go at least once in a week. Pedro felt such disappointment he couldn't put into words, how dare you do this to him?

He wanted answers, so he drove to your house.

An hour later you returned home, you felt tired from your workout session, but also a little excited at the man you'd met. He was very handsome and nice, and you figured there was no harm in spending some time with you, so you went for a cup of coffee with him, and that turned out to be two cups of coffee and one slice of strawberry cake, and you were not disappointed, he was sweet and fun. It reminded you a little of when you first became friends with Pedro, which brought a pang to your chest and you quickly dismissed, reminding yourself Liev's intentions were different, especially at how much he flirted with you. You placed your gym bag down and walked through the living room.

"We gotta talk, Y/N" Pedro's voice was cold and made you jump, startled as you turned back and saw him sitting on the couch. You swallowed hard, never expecting to find him there, watching you like a predator.

_____

A/N: Two things: I confess I was kinda anxious to post this because the first two pieces people really enjoyed it and I was worried this one wasn't good enough, so I hope with all my heart you guys didn't find it bad.

Also, I chose the name Liev, because of Liev Schreiber, but it was a just because choice. In real life he's taller than Pedro and his body type is more of a bulk, which makes him bigger and he's also older too (55yrs) but it won't be relevant for the story (yet) so you can picture whoever you want!

[bedoballoons]

Oh wow fantastic I loved it!! now I kinda want a part two to the whole short post what did happen after finding out there darling likes tall guys how will they comfort there rival

I'm assuming you meant confront! I hope so at least cause that's what I wrote! If not I can totally write a second one! Thank you so much for your request!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Yanderes confront their rivals~༺}

This is a Part 2! Part 1:

CW: Fighting, using their obsession to get information, a knife is mentioned, Freminet trains you to like him, descriptions of blood, slight gore, confronting, yandere themes, some angst, and Lyney call reader mon amour!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Venti, Freminet, and Aether!)

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𑁍༄Lyney:

You knew Lyney was the reason Neuvillette had gone missing, it was obvious and yet no one could arrest him because there wasn't enough evidence, not to mention without the Chief of Justice...how could you have a trial? The whole of Fontaine was now in disarray, searching for Neuvillette everywhere and anywhere Lyney could have taken him, but not a single place had any results.

You didn't even know if he was still alive...but you just couldn't give up, thats what led you to this moment, honeyed words slipping past your lips and your arms around Lyney, batting your eyes at him..."Lyney, I'm all yours, Neuvillette is no longer a threat to that I promise. Let him go..." The magician sighed softly, so tempted, so enraptured by you that he almost gave it away from your beautiful eyes alone, "You know as well as I do mon amour, if I do as you ask...I'll be taken away to Meropide. Away from you..."

You bit your lip, wandering how deep into this act you'd have to go in order to convince him, "Not if they don't catch you, we can run away together... just you and me..." You kissed his cheek and he caved...unable to resist you any longer, "I can't say no to that..."

He reached out his hand, a card between his fingers...but it wasn't like any of his others, it was blue with a a outline of Neuvillette. "Neat isn't it?" Lyney asked when he'd caught you staring and with a snap of his fingers the card began to change, blue smoke circling around a spot on the ground until it sudden disappeared, leaving Neuvillette in its place...

"Neuvillette!"

He seemed perfectly healthy, shaken to say the least, but otherwise fine. It felt like you could breath again like everything would be okay...he could save you...right?

𑁍༄Tighnari:

You hadn't heard from Tighnari in over a week and you felt so guilty...after how hard it must have been to confess his feelings, you shot him down without even a moment to think if you really wanted to,... just because he wasn't exactly your type. Now he was probably in his home, regretting his decision to ever tell you how he felt in the first place...ever be nice to you at all for that matter.

You sighed, opening the door to your humble abode, only to see one of the most terrifying things even your nightmares could have prepared you for, "T-tighnari?" The fennec fox looked up at you with a crazed smile, a small hunting knife tightly gripped in his hand...the blade of it against against what looked to be a drugged Alhaitham, "You're finally home! We've been waiting for you...sorry to barge in uninvited but I had to show you that I was better than him. Let you see that I can overpower him, even though he's stronger and...taller."

You felt your chest tighten with fear, your hands shaking uncontrollably, "What... d-did you do to him Tighnari?" Meanwhile Tighnari was acting as if this was a casual hangout between the two of you, his tail swaying behind him and his ears twitching in delight, he even chuckled when Alhaitham attempted to mutter something, "Don't worry, he's just poisoned. I asked if he wanted something for a headache he was having and then I gave him something, it just wasn't what he had in mind..."

"Tighnari...let him go. T-this is crazy!" You felt tears welling up in your eyes, your body screaming at you to run for help and yet you felt frozen, unable to move a muscle. "I'm not crazy, I'm dedicated,...to you. I want nothing more than to be with you and if I have to make sure the scribe isn't able to interfere to have that, then I will." His eyes sparkled at the mention of being with you...

"...just let him go. Give him a antidote and I'll s-stay with you. Please Tighnari, don't hurt anyone more than you already have, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shot down your confession so quickly, but I'll m-make it up to you" You reached your hand out and he wasted no time accepting it, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, all of it seeming so innocent..

"As long as you stay with me...no one else will ever get hurt."

𑁍༄Venti:

You'd never seen such a war before...archons battling against eachother, destroying the land with power far greater than you ever could have imagined, all of this...because you couldn't see yourself with someone short, what was Venti doing! By now there was a large crowd of people, some from Liyue, some from Mondstat and each of them cheering for their own Archon. There were even fights breaking out over who was better....

This had to stop. "Venti! Venti listen to me! I know you're angry and that's okay, but starting a war just because I said I wasn't into you isn't the way to feel better!" You shouted as loud as you could, but he wasn't able to hear you, the sound of large rocks crashing into the ground and highwinds ripping trees right out of the land impossible to talk over. Was it a lost cause...?

You shook your head, unable to give up at the thought of your friend getting hurt...even if he was stupid for starting it in the first place...you cared about him. You swallowed your fear and gathered up all of your courage, running into the danger zone, barely able to keep your footing while you continued to call to the anemo archon. "Venti! Vennntii!!"

Suddenly the part of land you'd been running on ripped away from the rest of the ground, flying upwards with you holding on for dear life, "Venti! Hellpp!!!" You felt your grasp slipping and then you were spinning, falling back down at such speed you'd die on impact, you shut your eyes tightly, praying for everything to be okay.

Then there was a gentle breeze surrounding you.. lifting you upwards, the entire battle out on pause when you came face to face with Venti, shocked to see him in his archon outfit, "Venti please, I'm sorry. Don't take this out on Zhongli, don't make such a big mess because of me. I'm... not worth it." You looked down at all the dilapidated area beneath you...all of this for you?

"You're worth more than every world or star in the entire universe...I'd fight to the end for you." The anemo archon touched your cheek softly.., making you feel something you never had before..

𑁍༄Freminet:

Freminet wouldn't leave your side, keeping you away from Neuvillette at any costs... pampering you with romaritime flowers and ocean shells, convincing you in ever way he could think of that he was better. He'd be there in the morning with warm breakfast and a nice hot beverage, he'd walk with you anywhere you needed to go so he could keep you safe and...people were noticing. Most thought you were dating. Even congratulating you two...but he always answered before you could, thanking them happily.

Truthfully...he was training you to only want to be around him and it was working...

𑁍༄Aether:

"ITTO!" You screamed, your skin paling at the sight of the Oni you had been crushing on so much, taken down to the ground with dark crimson blood dripping from his head onto grass beneath him, his face badly bruised and beaten up. You couldn't even tell if he was breathing, your heart racing as you looked to the culprit... his face speckled with deep red flecks of blood and sickening smile on his lips..

"W-why...Aether, you're supposed to be a hero why would you...he didn't...h-he didn't deserve this!" You rushed to Ittos side, holding his large hand in yours and staring at the damage someone you thought you could trust caused.

"I did it for you. Now he can't take you from me..., now there's only one hero for you and it's me." Aether grabbed your wrist harshly, pulling you close to him while you tried desperately to shove him away, "No! Let go of me! Help! Someone help!!" You screamed frantically, searching for any other signs of people...but nobody was around? How was that possible! It was the city?!

Aether smiled at you sadistically, "Being a famous hero and knowing important people means I can say there's a need to evacuate...and everyone will just leave. No one...can hear you now..."

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ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚*⁠.⁠✧

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Sunsets - Dick Grayson (Robin) X Male Reader

Title: Sunsets

Dick Grayson (Robin) X Male Reader

Additional Characters: Slade (Mentioned), Cyborg (Mentioned), and Beast Boy (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 2,167

Warnings: Post-Robin's Slade Apprentice Era, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, Slade, some italics, hallucinations mentioned, friends to lovers, nicknames, slight angst, and fluff

The sun was slowly setting, casting an orange glow over the skyline. The sky was a light purple. The air was cool but the atmosphere was warm enough that it could still be considered summer; thought, autumn was on the way. Dick stood on the rooftop of the Tower, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the sunset. He loved sunsets and sunrises. As you once said jokingly, ‘the early bird catches the worm’. It was mesmerizing, really, the sunset; how everything changed with the setting of the sun. From the bright red to the brilliant oranges and yellows to the soft pinks, purples, and blues. Everything was changing. A new day was coming.

Dick sighed, deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment. You were sneaky and quiet, but not sneaky enough; he always knew you were there. He didn't even have to turn his head to know that you were beside him once he reopened his eyes. His gaze drifted over to you in a silent question, wondering why you had come up to the rooftop.

"I've been looking for you," You finally answered his silent question, "The pizza arrived." Your voice was calm; yet quiet. “The pizza delivery guy mistook me for B.B., so that was fun.”

He hummed, "I'll be down in a moment." He simply answered, and you hummed right back, with a small nod. Though, when you didn't leave, Dick looked back over at you, raising an eyebrow. 

"I didn't only come up here to tell you that dinner arrived." You responded. Dick could see you fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. He could tell that something was on your mind. And before he could ask you to elaborate, you continued; "I also thought that maybe you'd like some company." You turned to look at him once more, "If not, I totally understand if you want to be alone. But, if you want someone to talk to, or just be here, then... Well. I'm here." You shrugged slightly, as if unsure of what else to say. But as Dick's silence lingered in the air, your nervous grin faltered as you quickly tried to recover. "I mean, I can go if you don't want to talk or anything! I understand this might be your 'me time,' and all... I just wanted to offer some support. I mean… I don’t want to be that guy that rains on your ‘me time’ parade." You spoke quickly, almost stumbling over your words. Dick couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten, and the corners of his lips twitch in amusement to your nervous rambling.

The past few weeks had been pretty rough for the team, especially for Dick. First, he had locked himself in his room, trying to find any possible leads to Slade's whereabouts. Then he took up the mantle of Red X, lying to his friends, trying to trick Slade into giving him the information he needed to stop him for good; Slade saw right through his lies. And then Slade put Nanoscopic probes into the team's bloodstream - with one press of a button, the Nanoscopic probes would slowly, but painfully, drain their life force until they were nothing more than husks of their former selves. Basically... The team, Dick included, didn't fully understand the full effects of the Nanoscopic probes; except that they were painful when activated. But Slade used Dick, used him knowing how much he truly cared for his Titan team. Dick was forced to join Slade as his apprentice, and there was nothing he or his team could do to stop it. 

Dick did stop it. Even when things or certain events seem incredibly impossible, he, and the team, always found a way through it. 

Even during the time that he was hallucinating. It didn't take long for you and the team to figure out that he wasn’t actually seeing Slade whatsoever. It hurt your soul when you saw him in the basement of the tower, being punched around by some invisible force... You quickly got to work, trying to find out what had caused these horrifying hallucinations. You stayed up, for hours, when it finally clicked. The mask. Slade's mask. You brought the mask to Cyborg, and you and he did some tests... It was confirmed. There was this substance, residue, that had hallucinogenic effects on those who inhaled it. 

It wasn't long until Dick was cured...

The memory of Dick thrashing and pulling against the restraints when he was still under the influence of the hallucinogenic, haunted you. The anger, fear, determination... It was all evident in his voice. You cared so much for him. You had come to the realization that you had liked him more than just a friend a year ago.

At first, when the realization came, you tried to deny it. That was, well, hard to do, considering the evidence that was stacked up against you. You loved his smile, his kindness towards you, and the fact that he never stopped fighting. You loved how passionate he was about every single thing he did. You felt like you were in heaven whenever you were with him. But... How long would you be able to stay in that heaven before it shattered into pieces? Into reality? Would he even return your feelings? Maybe he did really think of you as only a friend - a teammate. Maybe you shouldn’t even say anything on the subject. The questions plagued your thoughts relentlessly, and when you weren't plagued with them, you were filled with doubt. You were at a very confusing time of your life…

Dick found himself lost in a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze was fixed on the fading light, but his mind was elsewhere, grappling with the aftermath of his ordeal with Slade. Every muscle felt tense, his jaw clenched as he tried to process the tangled mess of guilt, fear, and uncertainty that was swirling within him. He knew he needed to talk about it, to let someone in, but the words seemed to stick onto the back of his throat, refusing to emerge; he could choke on them. He turned to you, his trusted companion, his heart heavy with unspoken words. His usual confidence faltered, replaced by a rare vulnerability for the usually stoic Robin. With a deep breath, he finally opened his mouth, the words coming out in a hesitant, almost stuttering manner; the gears turning in his mind.

"I... I don't know how to say this, but- I need to talk to someone about this… About Slade." He gritted his teeth, anger filling him at the mere sound and thought of his name, but he continued; "And... Everything. I... I'm not good at this, at feelings, but I... I can't keep it all inside anymore." His eyes searched yours for understanding and acceptance. The weight of his burdens seemed to lessen slightly as he spoke, the first step towards unburdening his soul. "You are one of my trusted friends, Y/N," He continued, "I... Uh..." He paused, pursing his lips as he turned back to the setting sun. He inhaled deeply, feeling the back of his eyes stinging with unshed, stubborn tears. He cleared his throat. You could feel the depth of his turmoil as he struggled to find the right words to express the torment that had been eating away at him. Finally, after a moment of silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of the evening breeze, Dick spoke again, "I... I can't shake off what Slade has done. It's like a shadow that follows me everywhere, a constant reminder of how terribly I've messed up." His words were laced with raw honesty. "I’m so tired, Y/N," Dick continued, his voice stiff; he was trying to stay strong. "It's like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I don't know how much longer I can bear it alone."

You could sense the depth of his anguish, the self-blame that gnawed at his soul. In that moment, you knew that he needed you more than ever, to be his anchor in the storm of his emotions, "Dick... Whatever you need, I'm here for you." You began, "I'm here for you." You repeated; hoping it would help him, even just briefly. 

"I... I feel that it was my fault that Slade managed to get so far into my head. I failed you, and the team." Dick said quietly, looking over at the city. 

Your eyes widened as you shook your head, placing your hand on his upper arm, "No, D, none of this was your fault." You insisted, "None of it. None of it was on you." You squeezed his arm tightly in reassurance, and he looked back at you, his gaze intense, making you realize that you still had your hand on his arm. Reluctantly, you let go of him but gasped lightly when Dick suddenly grabbed your hand. He continued to surprise you as he reached up with his free hand and removed his mask. Finally, you finally got to look into Dick Grayson's blue eyes. They were filled with pain, sorrow, and regret. Yet, underneath that pain, there was also determination, bravery; an emotion you were all too familiar with, though you had never seen such clear emotion from Dick Grayson. Your grip tightened on his hand as he stared at you, searching your face. You continued, "I know what you've gone through was incredibly traumatizing, something no one should ever have to go through..." You tried to blink your own tears away, but you ultimately failed; one trailed down your cheek. "But, you are so strong... So brave... It's amazing how determined and fearless you are." You cleared your throat, your face becoming hot as you glanced away briefly, "I know one thing for sure, you have this incredible capacity to pull yourself together and face whatever challenges the world throws at you. It's honestly inspiring..." You looked back up at him, giving him a small smile, "And I know that you can get through this too."

Dick let out an almost shaky breath, looking down at his hand in yours, his eyes burning from said tears and his cheeks warm with blush. His heart raced as he tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. "Y/N, thank you." He whispered softly, looking back at you.

"Anytime, D." You replied, giving his hand a soft squeeze, your free hand reaching up to brush away the stubborn stray tear that began to slip down his cheek. Neither of you moved, not wanting to break this wonderful moment between you two. The sky grew darker, the sunset slowly disappearing behind a blanket of purple clouds, leaving a brilliant swath of stars scattered across its velvet expanse.

Dick could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest growing tight. The warmth of your touch made it difficult to breathe. The desire to hold onto you, to keep you close to his side, and never let go was overwhelming. It was hard to look away from you now, despite the darkness surrounding you both. You were handsome at that moment - but you always were - your features illuminated by the soft moonlight. He gazed at you intently, his fingers gently stroking the skin of the back of your hand. A shiver ran down his spine, and goosebumps formed on his arms. The urge to lean forward and kiss you hit him like a freight train. This was new territory; a wave of uncertainty and nervousness went through him… The intensity of your gaze and the way your thumb brushed over your hand sent him reeling.

"It's getting late," He heard himself say, and you found yourself nodding.

"Yeah... Dinner might be getting cold." You both slowly broke away, his hand slipping from yours.

Dick looked overwhelmingly nervous as he pulled the collar of his superhero suit, "The rest of the team might be wondering where we are..."

"Yeah..." You answered, not really knowing what else to say as he turned and began to walk away, but at his pause, you watched as he quickly turned around and walked back to you. Before you knew it, he closed the distance between the two of you, his hand reaching to cup your face. And before you could say 'Titans go,' Dick leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was brief but sweet, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers racing through your body and igniting every nerve ending. When he drew back, his face was flushed and his expression radiant. His eyes shone with an unreadable expression, but he smiled as he looked at you; as usual, there was this understanding between the two of you.

"Room temperature pizza?" He asked with a smirk, holding out a hand to you.

You grinned, taking his offered hand, "Room temperature pizza." You echoed with a laugh, matching his grin with your own.

---

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[webco-dawnn]

Winter Hc!!

~ Here are just some fun hcs about what I think the Haikyuu boys would do with you during the winter. This post isn't categorized into teams unlike my other posts, but instead just a jumble of headcanons, so I hope you enjoy! (this includes Kenma Kozume, Osamu Miya, Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kotarou, Oikawa Tooru.)

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Kenma⠀.ᐟ 🐈

╭ ; Kenma normally isn't one to go out. So, now with winter rolling in, it actually gives him an excuse not to go outside without the nagging voice of his friends telling him he could be using his valuable time practicing or that he needs some sun since he is pretty pale, afterall. Though he'd probably just stay in his room all day, buried under many blankets and wearing a bunch of layered clothing to warm him up.

When you come over, he doesn't really react. He greets you with a, "hey," flashing a gentle smile before focusing back on his game. You sit down next to him, and that's when he folds. He leans over, laying his head on your shoulder or your chest, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. If you comment on how close he's gotten he'll just say, "it's cold. You're warm. Use your brain." Though his tone held no actual bite of aggression in it.

He'll let you look over his shoulder to watch him play and eventually inch closer to you as the day goes on, until he's fully in your lap, your arms around his waist. There hasn't been a single word uttered ever since Kenma told you you were warm, but it was nice. It was a comfortable silence between the two of you that never got old. Well, silent except for the music and sound effects coming from the Nintendo held between Kenma's hands.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Osamu⠀.ᐟ 🍙

╭ ; You beg to come over to his house, claiming it's "too cold" in yours. Osamu tries to discourage you by telling you that his annoying twin, Atsumu, will be there as well since he has no plans today, or the fact that Osamu hasn't taken a shower yet or done his laundry. He was only trying to discourage you from coming over because.. well, Atsumu was home.. he didn't want his twin brother to see how different he was in front of his significant other. But after some more begging, you finally convince your beloved boyfriend to let you come over.

When you arrive, Osamu's already got hot chocolate made for you, handing it to you after you take your shoes off. Osamu makes some good hot chocolate, which is also another reason why you wanted to come over today. After you've finished the hot drink, he asks if you want to bake cookies with him. He has enough ingredients and a shit ton of free time, so why not?

In the process, you both get flour on your faces and in your hair, cookie dough all over your hands, and stains on both yours and Osamu's cheeks from the handful of chocolate chips you two ate.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Tsukishima⠀.ᐟ 🍋

╭ ; You wake up to a text from Tsukishima, telling you to be ready by 11 AM with no other information. It definitely confused you, but you're used to it since Tsukishima always texted you random things like this with no other information provided.

At 11, he picks you up and, surprise, he brought you two to an ice skating rink. You had been ranting about wanting to go for a while but not wanting to go alone, so Tsukishima took this as his cue to take you ice skating.

On the rink, Tsukishima is definitely a different person. Unlike you with your carefully calculated moves, perfect, careful, precise, Tsukishima is a wobbling mess. He has an iron grip on your bicep, not even daring to separate from you for a minute. He wasn't good at ice skating at all..

Anytime you'd laugh, he'd look up at you, saying, "It's not funny." but you couldn't really take him seriously with just how cute he looked with his red cheeks and nose.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Bokuto⠀.ᐟ 🦉

╭ ; The energetic owl shows up at your door at about noon, a box in his hand. You obviously let the boy in, watching as he took off his shoes before quickly walking over to the kitchen counter and setting the box down. Before you could even question anything, why he's here, (not that you're complaining, just curious) what the box was, you then read the front of the box and figured out that Bokuto was here with the intention of making a gingerbread house with you.

And so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon making the gingerbread house. The contruction part of it ended about an hour ago, but you two were still working on the decorations of the house. It didn't look the best.. but it was fun. Talking to Bokuto while making the dessert was more than enough of a perfect day for you.

It was about 2 PM when you two finally finished, two hours after you guys had started. You look over to see Bokuto with icing all over his hands, and even some in his hair, along with small candies sticking to his fingers due to the icing. It made you chuckle. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

꒰ ୨ ୧ ◞ 。Oikawa⠀.ᐟ 🌀

╭ ; You weren't surprised when you opened your phone to 12 unread messages from Oikawa, begging you to come over to his house since he was just "So cold without you." You sigh, slipping your phone back into your pocket. You felt no real annoyance toward the boy, you could never feel annoyed with him. You get ready to go to his house before he starts whining even more.

When you get there, Oikawa's face immediately lights up with a wide smile, pulling you close and kissing you all over your face. Many, many kisses littered on your lips and cheeks. After he finished attacking you with his love, he allowed you to come inside. He told you how his parents weren't home before suggesting to rewatch a movie he loved, one you've watched with him about 10 times now. You agreed, but he suddenly changed his mind and suddenly started making tons of snacks.

after 20 minutes, you two finally settle down on the couch, Oikawa's head lying in your lap with a blanket over top of him and on top of your lap. An array of snacks lay on the table as the movie started.

[lizzy019]

Hihi! So, idk if your requests are open (if they're not, feel free to ignore this :))

Could I have the gang (seperately) (idk if you do all of them in one post srry(if not, then just Johnny or Ponyboy)) with an S/O who's uncomfortable with drinking and drugs and gets like, a bit tense/anxious when they see either - including when the gang has any - just cuz of some bad childhood trauma?

Thanks!

Love you sm <3 /p and I hope you have a good day/evening!!

Ahh back again with a request haha! Sure, I'll write short drabbles for each of the gang members :))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1) Ponyboy 2) Johnny

3) Dally 4) Darry IN THIS ORDER!

5) Soda 6) Steve 7) Two-bit

1) Ponyboy

Ponyboy knew that you tended to be a bit uncomfortable when he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it within a matter of seconds. Now normally, you'd just plug your nose and push past it since this was just Pony's addiction, but lately you seemed to cough from the second hand smoke and stood far away from him.

You couldn't find it in you to tell him how your parental figure did it too often when you were still a young kid. You saw how they got when they were high off of their mind, it bugged you ceaselessly and you really didn't want to see Ponyboy like that either. But then again, you were supposed to be a bit tougher, so naturally you didn't tell him.

But Ponyboy caught on quick enough.

Now, it was very common for him to smoke when he got stressed or anxious about something. Though Ponyboy preferred the easy way out of his stress, smoking his cheap tobacco, he tried to keep it away from you. Whenever he was stressed, he'd find you and lay his issues on you to resolve them together.

It wasn't a big fix, but if it had you coughing less and smiling more, he'd do just about anything for the curl of your lips and the laughs you shared.

2) Johnny

Now, Johnny was well aware of your trauma and discomfort when it came to drugs and substance abuse. He tried his best, honestly, to keep his addiction away from you, or to a minimum if he really couldn't suppress the urge.

He understood fully why you didn't like substances like weed or tobacco, especially when you had these tiny freezes every time he lit up a cigarette and took a puff. They could be dangerous, fatal even, and he knew that it deeply worried you seeing him smoking them. As a trauma survivor himself, he knew it could be tough trying to push past something that scars your life.

But Johnny should've known better. He should've tried harder, especially so when you started physically distancing yourself from him when he smoked. Second hand smoke was bad, but it was worse because he knew why you were getting so overwhelmed.

You were scared, and he couldn't be mad at you for it.

So Johnny decided to quit. Just one evening, he handed you his cigarettes and his lighter and made sure you trashed them for him. At the end of the day, it was saving you both from a lot of issues in the future.

3) Dally

Dally by no means meant his teasing when you first told him how him smoking around you made you uncomfy. But he tried to at least grasp why it made you uncomfortable, to prevent the disliked feeling sway you away from him.

While Dally struggled with breaking his addiction (he was 12 when he started), he had a goal in mind. Less than a pack a day, hopefully less than 15 if he got good enough. It was just something he tried to do to keep you safe, he loved you more than anything and he'd prioritize your comfort over something as silly as a few cigarettes.

You were very happy when his average intake of cigs had dropped a couple, and it made you proud knowing you were the cause of it. And as of lately, he even seemed to be more cheery because he wasn't smoking that much anymore.

You both were very happy with what Dally had done for you.

4) Darry

Darry is a simple man. While he did like his beer, a cigarette every now and then helped soothe the stress of taking care of two buffoon siblings and all his friends. The man was overworked, you couldn't blame him for needing some affordable way to release the overwhelming stress building and building.

But you didn't like when he smoked. You were scared, truthfully. He was smart, he was a dignified and respected gentleman. Seeing him smoke was like seeing a rabbit eating corn instead of the stereotypical carrots or celery. It was odd, it wasn't correct.

So the minute you informed him of your dislike to his smoking, along with your reason for the dislike to be trauma, he was quick to throw out his lighter and just hand the cigarette box off to Soda. It was efficient, and at least with beer, the effects were more manageable compared to being high off of his mind.

5) Sodapop

Soda in all honesty doesn't smoke that much to begin with. He just doesn't see it as something he wants to use to calm himself for the rest of his life considering his other brothers already cough up a storm from them.

But he especially tried to quit doing them at all when you came along. He could see your utter discomfort at the sight of the measly tobacco stick, and he questioned you. But he quickly took back any jokes he made directed at your trauma, as he didn't know... and the last thing he wanted to do was drive a wedge in between you two because of some stupid joke he made.

That was the day he stopped smoking around you. Any time he felt the need for a smoke, he'd just tell you he'd be outside for a few minutes and he'd pop back in.

Sure, he smelled of pungent tobacco afterwards, but it was the thought that counted, right? If seeing him smoke bothered you and he was too far into his addiction to quit, he would happily find ways that'd work for the both of you!

6) Steve

Now let's be honest here, Steve drinks more than he does smoke. Regardless of it, he'll happily accept a cigarette when it's given to him, he can't deny a free cig!

But he noticed the tenseness in your shoulders, the pained and fearful look buried in your gaze as you eyed him with just a cigarette between his lips. Were you upset at him for smoking? Maybe worried for his health? He didn't know, but he threw the cigarette out even if it still had a good amount left over.

It was then that you relaxed, shoulders going loose again and eyes soft like always. Oh, so you didn't like cigarettes at all, period. Maybe you just didn't like him doing drugs, but he didn't want to question you. Then again, even if he wasn't the smartest educationally, he was smart when it came to things like body language.

Instead of taking the cigarettes offered, he started brushing them off, smiling a bit in your direction as if to show you how much he cared about you. Steve wanted you to be proud of his responsibility, and you were. Well... you only smiled back because his smile was just too contagious.

7) Two-bit

Deadass, this man has awful habits. From drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, to drinking beer while smoking cigarettes, it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen tipsy or a bit stoned every now and then.

But once you and Two got together, he maintained his sober streak for a good while. Sure, an occasional beer maybe, but never too much and never too many cigarettes. He never even knew of your trauma to them until you both were with the gang, and he started smoking just because everyone else was.

Heavily influenced, you dubbed as one of his many poor characteristics.

But he knew at least vaguely from the gang that you didn't like it. After all, it was noticeable how your usually cheery, warm expression would shift to discomfort and appal. He didn't know how to handle the guilt knowing he possibly triggered some trauma you had, and his apologies were in the form of handing you his lighter and bottle opener.

It wasn't much, but it'd slow him down.

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

As long as you're here.

Floyd x reader (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Summary: You and Floyd met when Floyd was still in brozone, but when the band separated so did you. That is until you were both captured by the mediocre artists of Veneer and velvet. Not that you care much though, your fine and healthy and your with your favorite person again.

Words: 1380

Warnings: angst, semi-cliffhanger if I plan to do a part 2

A/N: this is so rushed you guys, it's genuinely painful, but also it has most of the elements I wanted to include so if y'all would please be so kind as to like this if you enjoyed it that'd make my little heart so happy. In other words: stay golden and enjoy. Lemme know if y'all want a part 2!

✦✧✦

You groaned at your hurt vocal chords after going to another concert just that week. You wondered if you'd have a larynx of steel by the end of the month. You didn't have backstage tickets so you wandered a little ways away until you were far enough to cool off in the cool night air.

What an incredible concert, I mean you could've had more of the sensitive troll but hey! It still rocked your world. You took a few deep breaths to get rid of that post-concert buzz. You jolted to life when you heard a twig snap.

You heard the faint curses of a troll followed by a sad sigh. Your gaze Met the back of his pink haired head, and your heart dropped. You covered your mouth before a fangirl scream could fall out. You took a deep, deep breath before rising and looking at him.

He seemed startled when you spoke. “Hey… you okay there?” you said with as little excitement you could muster. However it still wasn't enough to make him think you weren't a fan.

Once he calmed down he turned away from you. “Hi. Uh…if you want an autograph just say so.” He mumbled, just clear enough for you to make out. He sat on a log, and soon enough you joined him.

“Autograph?” You whispered in return, surprised he'd assume such a thing. Then you realized he proba got that a lot more than he did comfort. “No, no, I don’t want an autograph, I'm genuine. Are you okay?” You placed a gentle, sweet hand on his shoulder.

He looked at you and it seemed like there was a switch in his whole attitude. From melancholy to downright depressed. He wiped his eyes before any tears could fall. “Sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s natural.” You sat next to him, looking into his eyes. “Talk to me, Floyd.”

Floyd’s eyes widened slightly at the use of his name and he seemed lost for a second. Should he talk to you? Probably not, but this is the most comfort he’s gotten in ages, so he just breaks.

He tells you everything, and in just a few hours you’re already wrapped around each other's fingers. Floyd leaning into your shoulder and you holding him tight. Letting his pain be heard. He sniffled hard and lifted his face, tears covering his poor cheeks and puffy red eyes.

You giggled at the sight, something about this whole thing was surreal. “You okay now?” you ask with a smile on your lips and in your voice. Floyd doesn’t respond verbally. Instead he just nods. Still leaning his head into your shoulder.

At some point he had grabbed onto your hand, desperate never to let go. Now he’s gently playing with your fingers. Waiting for you to tell him to stop. Which you wouldn’t.

He looked up into your eyes quickly. “Thank you for staying with me.” He whispered. You nodded your head and stroked his hand with your thumb. Then it dawned on you.

“I uh, I’m so sorry this was pretty forward of me if I’m honest, I haven’t even introduced myself.” You stood up and offered him your hand. You gently declare your name, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at how forward you had been with him. Maybe it was because you already felt close to him. Considering he was your favorite band member.

Floyd stared into your eyes and cleared his throat. His gaze flickered away from yours and you hesitated. Ready to take back your hand at any moment. Just then his hand met yours. A chill ran down your spine as his cold contrasted with your warmth.

Your eyes stare at your connected hands, and then onto his face. His eyes were large with friendliness, but overshadowed by exhaustion and uncertainty. “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all.” He would say. You nodded slightly. Then squeezed his hand.

“I should…I should go-”

“Yeah…yeah that’s probably for the best. I gotta get home.”

“Yeah yeah. I’ll let you do that.” You said awkwardly before turning on your heel and skulking off elsewhere where you’re needed.

Floyd chuckled slightly as he watched you go away, then he heard his name being called. Despite his initial disappointment he decided maybe as long as you were there it wouldn’t be so bad.

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Many years have passed since then.

You reminisce on an old photo of you and Floyd. It was directly after another concert, the last concert before he and his brothers disappeared off the face of the earth. You kept that photo, thinking one day you'd get to see Floyd again. However, considering your current situation it was unlikely.

Trapped, inside a purple diamond with nothing to hear except thoughts and teenage screaming laughter. You were tired of it, but not afraid. Velvet and Veneer were a duo of teenagers you hated with a burning passion. You were their test dummy, to see if they could steal the song of a troll. Which you wished was impossible.

Unfortunately, today would prove to be the effect of your situation.

Velvet’s nagging voice screams in your ears as she and her brother return for a spritz. The sound of another diamond being slammed into the table cause you to have a brain reboot. You looked up and saw Velvet more excited than ever.

She was singing multiple riffs over and over, it was annoying. which made you realize that she found another troll. One more musical than you. You immediately looked at the bottle beside you. It's color colliding with yours, making it incredibly difficult to see inside of it. You didn't dare speak until the cruel duo parted.

“Psst. Hey.” you whispered to the other bottle. Trying to see who it was. They didn't respond immediately so you kept prying. “Hey…fellow inmate. I come in peace.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood despite being devoid of much joy yourself. “Please? I could use some social interaction.”

Silence followed, as if you were alone all over again. Then you began thinking. No one is there, it's hopeless. You're alone and you're going to die alone. There's no need to pretend like one day you'll have a friend here because you never will. You need to just give up already-

Then, as if by chance, a quiet voice says your name. A familiar voice. A hand presses itself against the glass and the two of you make eye contact. “Is it really you?” he says, and then a pit drops in your stomach, but pure joy fills your skull.

You gasp and move closer to him. “Floyd? Yes! Yes, it's me!” you groan as you lean your cheek into the glass. “I'm so glad to see you, but what are you doing here!” You pulled your cheek away and crossed your arms. Your eyes gentle on his familiar exhaustion.

Floyd laughed nervously then frowned. He turned and leaned on the diamond casing and slid to the ground. You mimicked him and he quietly acknowledged this. “It all happened so fast that…I just don't want to talk about it.” He seemed deeply saddened, like his whole world was crumbling before him. It really made you stop and think.

“I get that. I got a little too curious and wound up here myself. Sucks huh?”

“How can you get too curious and get locked up for it?”

“I got curious about this place and I didn't realize the song would be sucked out of me for it! Give me a break!”

That made Floyd laugh, but then he shook his head. “We have to get out of here.” Floyd said, his arms wrapping around his knees.

“Good luck with that.” you huffed. “I've been here for ages and there's no exit in sight,” you admit, a frown on your lips. You tossed your head back into the purple shield and sighed softly. “At least I have you to spend eternity with.”

Floyd looked at you. “I bet it won't be eternity, but as long as we're together, I'm okay. We're okay.” he said as he relaxed into the glass. You nodded, sighing up into your enclosure.

“Yeah, we're okay. Together.”

[velvetures]

Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should��ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

[pomefioredove]

Ah

Was going over the voicelines and references and aaa it's so fun

I think i found the snippets that were good fodder for vilyuu. some of them from the post that goes into depth for vilyuu this one -> the link ( https://jasminetl.lofter.com/post/1d5363f0_2b4c8f58d )

These ones are fun

From the camping event, outdoor wear

I know I'm beautiful but did you know i can be rugged too? Look how rugged i can be. <- vil really said i can do both actually. He didn't have to say that, he singled out yuu for that

Invitation for yoga and exercise by the lakeside

From beanfest (this one i might be just really intensely wanting to see but ahhh who knows)

So again, he's like " I'm not JUST pretty, look how cool and capable i am. I can even get dirty for this"

And again he's like "y'know being covered in dirt and scuffed from battle can look attractive. Don't you think that looks attractive??" <- vil why are you seeking so much approval??? Do you have something to say???

The more i look through the voicelines (between him and Yuu) and in other events the more i find that a lot of it really does kinda boil down to "heh, isn't this cool? Do you think it's cool 👀" subtle gauging of interest type of stuff. Trying to help, to get some hang out time (usually in excuses though not always), constantly dropping those hints. It's very funny, even more so compared to how he acts with other characters in similar situations. I'm just saying that vil very much offered only prefect his cape to hide in to protect from ghosts, and didn't really offer as such to any. He's Definitely more likely to get irked by someone else asking for his time than prefect lol.

Anyways thought to drop this in to the ask box due to that last post about vilyuu week and just like for funsies

look at this man.

he wants them so bad it makes him look stupid /ref

I think it's delightful how he has 10 billion fans and a live-in hype man but he still purposefully seeks out approval from Yuu. which could mean nothing.

I read a lot of voice lines on the wiki when I'm trying to develop a character's voice and his definitely stand out because. hmmmmm 🤨

touch

vil has mixed reactions to being touched (by yuu), I suspect a part of that is just being overwhelmed from time-to-time

like this:

"I know you want me to pay more attention to you, but it will have to wait. I'm very busy at the moment."

(okay but notice how he he doesn't say no. he says later. okayyyy mr schoenheit. making room in the schedule for your little angel huh. I see how it is)

other times he's okay with it:

"Ah, but of course. Given my radiant allure, I can hardly fault your overwhelming desire to touch me."

and other times he ASKS(!!!) yuu to touch him:

"The placement of a single hair can greatly affect the outcome of a photo. Could you fix this for me?"

>_> I'm just saying.

obvious flirting (and banter)

not including the obvious ploys for yuu's attention which he does CONSTANTLY (as you have shown in your ask!) there's a lot of. uh

"Is it the dorm uniform that leaves you smitten, or is it I? Heh..."

"Admiration nurtures the seed of beauty. By all means, fall for me."

"Unfortunately for you, you have nowhere else to turn. So you'd best resign yourself to becoming my thrall."

"I will sink my fangs right into you."

I KNOW this is the halloween event and he's only playing the part, but c'mon. come on. COME ON

"Trick or treat! But I'm not after your candy. Vampires are more interested in... Heh heh!"

why is he giggling.

then there's cute little bantery moments like:

"Where's MY souvenir, then? ...Oh, goodness. I was only kidding, but you actually had one for me. Why, thank you."

IDK the way he feels comfortable and friendly enough around yuu to joke with them... 🥺🥺 they make me want to chew metal

"You'd like to visit the Scalding Sands with me someday? Certainly-as long as you draw up an itinerary that won't leave me bored."

they're planning a date here actually. hello. I hate them so much (lying)

and whatever you'd call this

"You are the last person I ever expected to make me happy. That's a compliment, by the way. Thank you for your warm wishes."

THEY MAKE ME SICK. I read this in a mean way at first but now I think that's just his sick twisted version of flirting. "I never expected you would make me so happy but you do and I'm still partially in denial about it" DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF

other stuff

these are like random and inconsequential, I just like them

"Parting is such sweet sorrow."

this is literally just Shakespeare. does Romeo and Juliet exist in this universe or did he come up with that. crazy thing to say either way

anyway yeah. these are taken out of context and such so there's other stuff going on but you get my point. the OTP

[grave-z-boy]

are you comfortable with writing about a transman? if so id like to see arthur morgan comforting ftm!reader, maybe calling him a "good boy" to make him happy x

Arthur Morgan x Trans!male!reader

Summary: Reader runs into an old family member and is desperately in need of comfort afterwards. (Once again making excuses to be sad and transgender)

Words: 1264

Warning: hurt/comfort, pre-transition reader is referred to as “dead” and “little girl” by reader, reader threatens his cousin, shitty family members.

A/n: shorter fic cuz I've been banging my head against the wall trying to get the rest of my writing back.

Masterlist

“You need to eat.”

You glanced up at Arthur, the fire between the two of you illuminating him in a orange glow. Your food had gone cold, and you didn’t mean to be wasteful, but today was…a lot. You shifted uncomfortably on the large rock you'd perched yourself on.

“‘M not hungry.”

You heard him sigh as you stared down at your plate.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you just gonna sit there and sulk.”

“It's nothing-”

It was something, it was definitely something. You went into town on your own, bright and early so you could be in and out of the shops and get back to camp while the sun was still up. That was the plan, pick up some spices, and oddly enough a picture frame, Arthur had asked for it but he said it wasn't for him, probably gonna be a gift of some kind, you didn't think too much about it.

While you were making sure you're satchel was still secure, you heard a familiar voice.

“D/n?” he called from across the street.

You froze, but just for a moment, you tried climbing onto your horse as fast as you could by you were stopped by a firm grip on your shoulder. Turning, you saw him, right in front of you, your cousin, your asshole of a cousin, Damian.

“Well I'll be damned, it is you!”

Taking a breath you said, “Do I know you?”

“‘Do you’- d/n stop playing around!”

His voice was loud, loud enough to garner unwanted attention from those around you.

“I don't know no d/n sir, you've got the wrong man, now you best take your hand off me before you lose it.”

He backed off, a small apologetic yet nervous smile on his face, “sorry, you just uh, look an awful lot like my little cousin.”

Finally mounting your horse, you looked down at the man. You didn't say anything, just holding his gaze in yours for a long moment before giving him a quick nod and riding off.

You rode out of town faster than you should have, gaining various shouts and complaints from the townspeople who'd nearly stepped in your way.

As you broke out into the open road, your mind swelled with thoughts.

D/n was dead, she’d been dead a long, long time and you really didn't need reminders of her life, especially not the parts she hated.

You didn't want to hate your cousin, you just did. He was an ass and so was the rest of his family, you guess that technically included you too, but you never really felt like they were your family- even when you were little. You were different, so they treated you different. You never knew what tipped them off so early. Maybe you played with the boys too much, or you were too rough with the girls. Whatever it was, they knew before you did, they considered their daughter dead before she was, and they treated you like you killed her.

You liked being dead now, you thought you wouldn't have to worry about your family anymore, they had a whole funeral for you and everything, you figured that they'd move on, that if you did run into them, they'd take you as a ghost and nothing more. Your cousin was always an asshole though, and could never quiet get with the program, that made y'all alike in some ways, but mostly it just drew a bigger rift between you and your family. Everybody loved him, but they hated you, wasn't that funny?

You skid to a stop right outside of camp, zoning back into your surroundings just in time. Hoping off your horse, petting her for a short moment before tying her to a post.

It didn't take long for Arthur to find you, having only been in camp a couple of minutes before he spotted you. Before he even reached you, he could see the grim look on your face as you sat on your cot, glaring at the ground.

Arthur sat next to you, rubbing your back with his hand for a short moment. Arthur wasn't really a touchy person, not in front of people at least, a soothing touch on the back was as close to a kiss as you'd get with this many people around.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for a short moment before starting back down at the ground below.

It didn't take much for him to convince you to take a ride with him, especially when he offered to let you ride his horse with him, you appreciated it, knowing that yours would have bucked you off the moment you saddled her after you nearly ran her through camp. You almost felt bad- when you climbed on the horse behind Arthur, watching him avert his gaze from anyone who looked in your direction.

He wasn't ashamed, you knew that, he was just private, didn't like it when people paid too much attention to your relationship, or you at all for that matter.

You rode together for a long while, once you figured the road was clear enough, you wrapped your arms around Arthur and rested against his back, you felt him tense, then ask if you were okay, you nodded, he relaxed after a moment, quietly continuing down the road, he knew you weren't alright, not fully, but he figured talking could wait a couple of hours.

Now you're here, you sat on a rock while Arthur set up camp, when you mumbled an offer to help, he shot it down, reassuring you it was fine.

By the time food was cooked, the sun had set completely, the fire being the only source of light.

“- I swear I just…ran into somebody today.”

You could here the faint clink of silverware against the bowl as Arthur set it to the side.

“‘Somebody’ like who?”

You sighed.

“Like my cousin, Damien, ran into him in town today.”

You weren't fully sure you told Arthur about Damien, but when you looked up at him over the fire you could see a look of annoyance on his face, so you had to at least have mentioned him and his aggravating exploits.

“It's stupid, I just… I don't know. I thought that I would never run into them again, or maybe that they wouldn't recognize me if they did. But he called that little girl's name and it just felt like my heart had stopped.”

Starting down at the dirt, you heard Arthur push himself up off the ground, the dirt crunching beneath his boots. Then he was sitting right next to you, the stone just big enough to hold two queers at once. Meeting his eyes again, you opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a long, tired sigh.

“I know, “ he said, his voice so calm and soft, a tone reserved for those that deserved it, “come here, boy..”

And you did, leaning your head on his shoulder, buried in the nook of his neck, your arms just barely around him in an effort. He wrapped his arms around you far tighter, pulling you into him, feeling your shallow breaths as the day's events replayed in your mind.

“That's it, good boy,” he muttered.

A small smile formed on your face. You hummed in contentment, squeezing him a bit tighter, forcing a small chuckle out of him.

“You liked that?” you nodded, he laughed again.

“It's helping..”

“I'll keep that in mind.”