#i don’t get to even be here when he finishes moving out

[blank-potato]

my kid's better than your kid

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.” “Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat. “Absolutely not! This is about accountability.” “There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket. “Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—” He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.” You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.” Or You and John's kids are in the same soccer league, and after you get into an argument on the field over your kids, you start seeing him everywhere. It's hate at first sight.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, hair pulling, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, breeding kink, sexual overstimulation, John Walker is a biter, No Superhero AU!, slow burn, enemies to lovers, dead spouse (I killed off his wife oop), John being a good dad, Ava Starr cameo

A/N: I feel like John would be one of those dads who's coaching from the sidelines at their kids' game, so I wrote this. I'm also obsessed with him right now so expect more fics

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Some might call you intense or insane.

A little crazy, definitely.

There’s a fire in you, always has been, and when it comes to your daughter, you didn’t play around. Every aspect of her life was important to you, especially her Saturday morning soccer games.

Though you didn’t know what intense was until you saw that dickhead across the field. Blonde hair, a trimmed beard, built like he probably hits the gym four times a week. His biceps flexed under his white shirt every time he threw his arms up at the ref, which, to be fair, was often.

If he weren’t so obnoxious, you might even find him hot, but you totally don’t find him hot. He was pumped up, red in the face, and just as invested in the game as you were. Pacing like a coach who got fired but still showed up anyway. He was shouting directions, clapping like his kid was about to be scouted, and cheering like it was the World Cup and not just a rec league game on a patchy field behind a middle school.

He was showing you up, so you started cheering louder for your kid. Because if this is a competition, you're damn well not losing it.

“That’s it, Lily! Give ‘em hell!” You shout, your daughter just smiles at you and goes back to playing, used to your competitive nature.

The man takes notice of you and looks at you like he isn’t also acting like a lunatic before cheering even louder. That rubbed you the wrong way. What gave him the right to look at you like you were the problem?

Then it happens.

You watch as your daughter gets slide-tackled for no reason.

And the ref? Doing fuck all about it.

“What was that call, ref?” you shout, already on your feet.

“I—” the ref starts, backing up as you approach. 

You trudge towards him, angry but trying to maintain a look of composed fury, like you weren't two seconds from setting the field on fire. 

The ref was used to your antics, and now every time he saw you storming towards him, he’d be sure that he’d be going home with a headache.

“No yellow or red card? She got slide-tackled,” you bark.

“It’s—”

“She didn’t even have the ball!” you snap, the words ripping out of you like they’ve been waiting. You’re so fired up, so high on rage and love and disbelief, you swear you could take flight.

“It was an accident, so there’s no need for that,” a voice cuts in, calm and condescending in the worst possible way.

You turn, and it’s him, the guy from across the field. The look on his face, the matter-of-fact tone, the casual smugness oozing off him like cologne. You hate him instantly. It was that easy.

“I’m guessing that was your son that ran over my daughter,” you say, each word clipped like you’re trying not to launch them at his face.

“Ran over?” he snorts. “Talk about an exaggeration.”

“It’s soccer, these things happen. You don’t have to throw a tantrum just because your kid's team is down two,” he adds, smirking like he thinks this is witty banter and not a declaration of war.

You scoff, hands on hips, already stepping into his space. The ref backs off like a man realising he’s standing between two charging bulls. This wasn’t a sideline spat; this was two planets colliding, and he wanted no part of the fallout.

“Listen here, Captain Suburbia,” you sneer. “Anyone with two functioning eyes could see your kid bodychecked mine like it was hockey practice.”

“Well, the ref didn’t see it that way. So move on,” he snaps back without missing a beat.

“Absolutely not! This is about accountability.”

“There’s no need to give my kid a red card just because your kid—” John starts, hands gesturing like he's trying to explain away a traffic ticket.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you fire back, jabbing a finger at his chest. “If you even imply that she was overreacting, I swear I’ll—”

He holds up his hands, that smug look never leaving his face. “Hey, relax. Just saying, maybe things wouldn’t get so dramatic if you stayed on your side of the field.”

You narrow your eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”

“That’s it! Take this off the field,” the ref finally blurts, hands up, voice cracking. “The kids have a match to play!”

You exhale sharply and hard through your nose, fists clenched at your sides. You try to calm yourself down, jaw tight, heart pounding. You sit and look out at your daughter, brushing grass off her knees and already back in position. 

She's tougher than you give her credit, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to put that guy’s head in the ground. 

After the game, her team, the Honeybees, lost after a few missed goals and lots of questionable calls, but your daughter was still laughing with her friends, unfazed in the way only kids can be.

You, however, were still stewing in quiet indignation when you spotted the world’s biggest jackass, in your humble, entirely accurate opinion, making his way toward you.

“Oh. It’s you,” you say, arms crossed automatically.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your loss,” he says, all fake sincerity, like he wasn’t two seconds away from being shoved into a juice box cooler.

“How mature.”

“I try,” he replies with that same maddening, self-satisfied grin.

You narrow your eyes, ready for whatever condescending nonsense he might say next. If he says “good effort”, you’re swinging. Choosing not to let him fuck with you, you tell him what’s what. 

“Your team only won because of the ref’s bad calls,” you say, arms still crossed, tone sharp enough to slice fruit.

“Oh really?” he replies, lifting an eyebrow like he’s genuinely amused. Like this is his idea of foreplay.

“Yeah. My kid was dynamite out there.”

“So was mine,” he says back instantly.

“I mean, sure, but my kid has the most assists on her team,” you say, trying to keep your cool, even as your voice edges higher.

“Assists,” he echoes, nodding slowly. “Not goals.”

You blink at him. “Are we seriously doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says with mock innocence, hands raised like he’s never been petty in his life.

You press your lips together, biting your tongue so hard it might bruise. You didn’t want to, you really didn’t want to, but it slips out anyway.

“My kid can out-pass, out-hustle, and outplay any other kid on that field.”

He grins like he’s been waiting for this.

“Well, my kid can run circles around your kid while tying his cleats.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Alright then, my kid was able to run a full field drill without missing a pass when she was five.”

“Well, mine could do cone drills backwards while coaching his teammate through theirs.”

Your eye twitches at that and he delights in seeing you so bothered.

“Lily has a killer left foot and once scored a hat trick with a stomach bug.”

“And Tommy is a human wall on defence.”

“Oh, please. Lily once did a bicycle kick and landed on her feet. What’s Tommy got?” You say, crossing your arms. 

“Perfect attendance and a clean penalty record.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at ‘clean penalty record’ but you keep it moving.

“Lily brings orange slices for the whole team.”

“Tommy brings strategy diagrams and pep talks.”

You pause, blinking. “Are we… bragging about how nice our kids are now?”

“Seems like it.”

You both go quiet for a beat, then he adds with a smirk, “Still doesn’t mean your kid’s better. I think you should admit to defeat.”

You step forward, just enough to make a point. “I’ll admit defeat when the Honeybees start losing because of their own mistakes, not because your future linebacker throws elbows like he’s in a bar fight.”

He actually laughs, and it’s a little too charming for your liking. Before you can wrestle with what that means, you hear a voice. 

“Dad!” his son calls from across the field, waving dramatically. “Hurry up, you promised we’d get ice cream!”

He glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with that same smug glint in his eye.

“Again, enjoy your loss,” he says, already turning. “And get used to it. The season’s still young.”

You narrow your eyes. “Until next time, Captain Suburbia.”

He chuckles and starts to walk away, but pauses, turns back with a smirk plastered on his face.

“John,” he says. “My name is John.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

“Uh, what are you doing?” 

“Hiding.”

“From?” Your friend, Ava, says as she looks around for the apparent danger. 

“John.”

Ever since that day, you were livid with the dickhead you knew as John Walker. You had never hated someone so much from just one meeting. You never wanted to see him again, but you did while shopping.

Ava takes a peek, “Oh, the hot soccer dad? Which one is he?”

You never described him as hot but Ava figured from the way you were kidding your mind over him, you thought he was. 

“Blonde, beard, tall and wearing a blue shirt.”

Ava sees him in the fruit and veg aisle and hums in approval, “Is he single? He’s right up your alley, no?”

You nudge her arm. “I don’t know. I mean, I didn't see him with anyone at the game…” You say your voice drifting off before you're back to your senses. “Whether or not he's single is irrelevant! He’s a complete asshole.”

“Just because he's an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not good in bed.”

The death glare you give her is intense and could be considered lethal, but she laughs it off. 

“Let’s be honest, if you weren’t attracted to him, you wouldn’t be so riled up.”

“Oh, please, I’m not into evil blonde men.”

Is he hot? Yes. But his evilness outweighs the hotness. 

“Well, the evil blonde man is coming your way.”

You look towards the end of the aisle to see that Ava was right, so you immediately duck down behind a tower of soup cans. 

“Please come out from over there,” Ava whispers but you protest, hoping you can camouflage yourself and become one with the cans.

Ten seconds pass, and you hear your name in that familiar voice and know you’ve been caught.

“Oh. Hi.”

Your attempt at being nonchalant is honestly pitiful, but not more pitiful than him knowing you were hiding from him.

“Don’t mind me, go back to whatever this is,” He says, gesturing to your hunched-over, goblin-like stance. He reaches over you and grabs a can off the shelf, walking off without another word. 

“See? No need to panic. He was perfectly civil,” Ava chimes in.

“Only because he caught me in a state of weakness. He has the upper hand, and he’s already plotting against me. I can feel it.”

“He’s a soccer dad, not a supervillain,” Ava sighs, helping you off the floor, concerned about the effect he was having on you, but then again, she was always concerned about you. You regularly lose your mind at your daughter’s soccer games so she has just cause. 

“I need to grab the wine, I’ll meet you at the checkout,” Ava says, and you nod, letting her walk off. 

You had to circle back around to get the limited edition coffee you had become obsessed with anyway. You get to the aisle and your eyes widen when you realise that there’s only one left. Your hand flies to grab it, you can already imagine it in your trolley, and it looks good. It looks happy, like it's ready to be at home in your pantry.

But at the same time, another hand wraps around it, the hand belonging to John, because fate was still playing in your face. 

“You.”

You thought you were done with him for the day. Clearly, the universe had other plans.

John raises an eyebrow, not letting go. “Come on. Be a gentleman and give it to me,” You say, trying to force a smile. 

Your grip tightens, so does his.

“I don’t think so,” he says smoothly, as if he weren’t just on the verge of sparking a full-blown aisle standoff. “It’s the last one.”

“I know.”

“I’ll have to go across town for another,” You say, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“Cry about it.”

You tug on it a little, but he doesn’t budge. The item wobbles dangerously between your hands.

“Are you even trying?” he asks. He was so good at being a smug bastard, you wonder if he was born like this or if he honed this craft. You open your mouth to really let him have it, but you don’t even get the chance. 

Without another word, he snatches it clean from your hand in one smooth move, drops it into his trolley like he just won Olympic gold, and starts walking away, whistling.

You stand there, mildly offended but mostly impressed.

“Oh no, you did not just—” you march after him.

“Too slow, sweetheart,” he calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Better luck next time.”

“I hope it’s expired!” you shout after him.

You stop walking and watch as he struts off with your coffee like he was the King of Aisle Seven, you were planning his downfall in at least three different ways.

And two of them involved shopping carts.

After the grocery store incident, you were looking forward to having a reprieve from John Walker. But it was like fate or something more evil was forcing the two of you together. You have a PTA meeting the next night, and who do you see there but John, who was now becoming a permanent fixture in your life. 

You sigh and sit beside the only empty seat, which was next to him.

“Let’s not even speak,” You suggest you say as soon as your butt hits the seat.

“Fine with me,” John replies as he crosses his arms, looking away from you. 

You sit there tapping your foot. It was almost painful being silent when everyone else was having conversations. Especially when you were next to a thief. You didn’t even get the opportunity to yell at him properly for swiping your coffee.

You finally break, “What you did yesterday was shitty.”

“And I thought we weren’t going to speak.”

“I’ll be sick if I don’t call out injustice when I see it.”

John laughs, and you want to strangle him. “You’re still thinking about that? I’m constantly on your mind, aren’t I?”

You shift in your seat, feeling the heat climbing up the back of your neck. How dare he even suggest that? Yes, you were thinking about him, but only about all the ways you wanted to destroy him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap under your breath.

The meeting starts before he can muster up a comeback. You catch yourself zoning out as the agenda drags on, filled with tedious updates about the bake sale and a desperate plea for chaperones for the 3rd-grade trip to Lake Maribelle.

You swing your leg absentmindedly and accidentally bump his shin. It’s genuinely an accident.

“Did you just kick me?” he whispers.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t taking up half the space with your big—”

“You’re unbelievable—” He interrupts, turning his body to face you.

“Gangly legs, then you wouldn’t have gotten hit,” You whisper your sentence over his.

Your whispered bickering is only interrupted by the teacher at the front calling both your names.

“You’ll help chaperone the trip to Lake Maribelle?”

With all those expectant eyes on you, how could either of you say no?

“Yeah…”

“Of course…”

You both reply sheepishly at the same time.

“Great, I’ll sign the two of you up.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

Stepping onto the bus, you watch as Lily disappears to go sit with her friend, leaving you with a slight pang of loneliness. You head to the front and slump into your seat, next to who else but John, because you can’t even be surprised. You really needed to start arriving at places earlier to avoid sitting next to him, but here you were.

It’s a four-hour ride, and you can already feel your exhaustion creeping in. You try to keep yourself alert, but your eyes are heavy. Before you know it, your head tilts to the side, falling onto his shoulder.

John glances down at you, noticing how tired you look. He’s always been perceptive like that. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts slightly to give you more space. But when he feels you drift further, he gently shifts, adjusting his posture. His shoulder feels like a small slice of comfort amidst the exhaustion.

He lets you use his shoulder the whole ride. You looked quite peaceful when you weren’t trying to rip his head off, quite beautiful too. John catches the thought and tosses it out. He couldn’t be caught slipping, you were his mortal enemy after all.

The bus reaches the camp, and suddenly, it jerks to a stop. Your head flies forward, but before you can react, John’s hand shoots out, catching your forehead in the palm of his hand just in time.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little embarrassed but too tired to really care.

He just hums in response, his fingers lightly grazing your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “Quick reflexes.”

Hoping off the bus, you notice the camp leaders waiting to greet the kids. You stand off to the side ensuring everyone gets off the bus when you notice one of the teachers, Miss. Lucas, sidling up next to John, laughing a little too loudly at something he barely said. Your eyes narrow without even realising it, and your fist subconsciously tightens. It’s like a sudden surge of irritation hits you.

The worst part is that you don’t even know why you're so bothered. You’re pretty sure it's just your general distaste for him as a person, and anything he does seems to irritate you. That felt like the easiest explanation. No need to dig deeper into that nagging feeling in your chest, like someone’s poking it with a stick. You shake it off, willing yourself to focus on something else, anything else.

After you get the kids all settled in for the first activity, though, it hits you like a ton of bricks. The exhaustion. You’re winded in a way you don’t remember being before. You try to shake it off, but it’s clear that you’ve reached your limit for the day. This trip wasn’t as easy as you thought it would be, and now, even a simple walk feels like you’ve run a marathon.

You take a deep breath, looking around for a moment to regain your composure. There's no need to make a bigger deal out of it. Just power through, you tell yourself. But it’s harder than you expected, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s more than just the physical exhaustion that's weighing on you.

But at least John was out of sight. You didn’t have to see him on the nature walk or the obstacle course, but you’d have to supervise the canoeing together. You make it out there first, sitting on the dock as the kids are getting in the canoes with the instructors. A smile tugs at your lips as you see how excited Lily is, her face lighting up as she waits for her turn, then spotting you in the crowd. She waves enthusiastically, and you wave back, your heart swelling just a little at the sight of her so happy.

“Nice day out,” John says, looking out at the water. You’re shaken to your core. Not just because you didn’t hear him walk up, but because of what he said. What was this? A normal conversation starter?

You open your mouth to respond, but you're cut off by Miss. Lucas' syrupy voice slicing through the moment like a dull butter knife.

“It really is, and John, you really should wear sunglasses. With how blue your eyes are, the way the sun hits them is just distracting,” she purrs, twirling a lock of her overly straightened hair.

It’s laced with flirtation and just enough condescension to make your skin crawl.

You roll your eyes — hard.

John notices.

“What? You don’t like the sun?” he asks, amused now, that sharp gaze flicking to you like he already knows he’s poking the bear.

“I like the sun,” you answer evenly.

“Then what were you rolling your eyes at, huh?”

You’re so tempted to say exactly what’s on your mind. To call out Miss. Lucas’s thinly veiled thirst trap of a compliment, but you catch yourself. The last thing you need is her holding some petty grudge against Lily over adult nonsense.

So instead, you force a too-sweet smile and say, “None of your business.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained.

Miss. Lucas doesn’t seem to notice any of it. She’s still lingering like a wasp at a picnic.

John tilts his head, a grin still playing at his lips. “Touchy.”

Stepping into your space, he does that thing, that infuriating thing, where he leans in just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to break any rules.

You guys just couldn’t seem to be near each other without someone stepping over the invisible line.

“And you’re observant,” you shoot back, voice low. “Someone might think you’re a little obsessed.”

His brow lifts. “Is that right?”

“You know what? I’m sorry, I'm being rude. Let me ask you this,” you say, your voice sweet and dangerous all at once, “Do you like water?”

“What kind of question is—?”

Splash.

He never finishes.

You shove him clean off the dock, and he crashes into the freezing lake with a satisfying crash. A few heads turn at the sound, followed by laughter, mostly from the kids.

John surfaces, sputtering, slicking his hair back with both hands as he glares up at you like a betrayed golden retriever.

“It’s freezing!” he shouts.

“Oh no,” you gasp dramatically, hand to your chest. “Is it? I had no idea.”

He blinks the water from his eyes, slow and deliberate, before gripping the edge of the dock with both hands and pulling himself up in one smooth, effortless motion.

It’s… a problem.

You might hate the man, scratch that, you definitely hate the man, but God help you, he had the audacity to look good doing literally anything. The sunlight caught the drops of water rolling down his arms, his shirt plastered to the ridges of his abs and the degenerate part of your brain wanting to see them with his shirt off. 

His hair dripped, tousled and messy in a way that looked too perfect to be accidental. It was like watching someone climb out of a cologne commercial.

You bite your lip instinctively, then immediately cover it up with a cough and a scowl.

He strides toward you, soaking wet, every squelching footstep a declaration of petty war. You’re forced to crane your neck to meet his eyes as he stops in front of you.

“You’re lucky,” he says, water still dripping from his sleeves, “that one of us knows how to act like an adult.”

You raise your eyebrows, lips twitching despite yourself. “You sure it’s you?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, then turns and walks down the dock toward the cabins, leaving behind a trail of wet footprints and a hundred silent thoughts you’re too proud to say out loud.

You watch him go and tell yourself it’s because you want to see if there’s the off chance he falls in. 

Definitely not because of the view.

You’re watching your back the rest of the day, fully expecting some form of petty revenge. A frog in your shoe, a cold fish under your pillow, maybe even your toothbrush mysteriously tasting like lake water. But nothing happens.

No pranks. No payback.

You’re in the clear.

Now, sitting by the campfire, the sky a hazy lavender above the treeline, things feel… calm. The kids are running wild around the open field, fireflies blinking to life as marshmallows roast and someone strums a guitar softly in the distance.

“Hi,” a small voice says beside you.

You turn and see Tommy, John’s son, standing there with a hesitant smile.

“Hey, having fun?” you ask, shifting to make room.

He nods and sits next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest. “The nature walk was pretty cool, and me and my friends loved  the obstacle course. And the canoeing was fun too… even though you pushed my dad in the lake.”

You groan lightly, a hand going to your face. “Yeah, about that…”

The guilt hits, a pang of embarrassment. You knew your behaviour was juvenile. Funny, sure, but maybe not your finest moment, especially in front of the kids.

You laugh under your breath and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was pretty funny,” Tommy admits, “And I know you and my dad have problems.”

You feel even more ashamed that it was bleeding into your kids' lives too.

“My dad can be a lot,” he says, kicking a pebble with the toe of his shoe. “But he’s just… I don’t know. He tries really hard. Especially for me.”

It helped you understand John a little better. The bluster, the sarcasm, the stubborn streak a mile wide… It wasn’t just pride or ego. It was effort. The kind that comes from someone trying to do right, even if it comes out messy. You could appreciate that because you were the same way.

And if he’d raised such a polite kid, then he couldn’t be all bad. Not even close.

“Have you seen him, by the way?” Tommy asks.

“Not lately,” you say, then gesture toward the table behind you. “But you can have some marshmallows while you wait, if you want.”

“Sure!” he says, lighting up as he grabs a stick and starts roasting.

John comes back to see something he wasn't expecting. The bane of his existence, laughing with his son and roasting marshmallows. Tommy didn’t warm up to most people that easily, so when he sees him lighting up with you, his opinion of you shifts. Maybe you weren’t an evil witch. 

You still got a bucket of freezing lake water poured over you the next morning, though. 

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You’re out running errands, finally—blissfully—alone. Lily’s spending the weekend at your parents' place, which meant you had time to catch your breath, clean without stepping on glitter, and maybe finally recover from the whirlwind that was the school trip.

You understood John better. You still thought he was annoyingly smug, sure, but maybe not completely irredeemable.

But you weren’t getting ahead of yourself. He was still the same cocky asshole you met yelling across a soccer field... right?

Just as you’re mulling that over, tongue in cheek, deciding if you’d imagined all the softness, you feel your car begin to slow down.

“What the—?”

You frown, tapping the gas. Nothing. A few panicked beeps. Then a sputter.

You manage to pull off to the side of the road just as the engine completely gives out, your car coasting to a reluctant stop.

“No, no, no!” you shout, slamming your palms against the steering wheel.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not when you finally had a few hours of peace and you were this close to getting Thai food and going home to binge terrible reality TV.

With a heavy sigh, you get out and open the bonnet, even though you have no idea what you’re looking for. Wires? Steam? A glowing red light labeled you’re screwed?

You’re standing there, staring blankly into the guts of your car, when you hear it, a car slowing down behind you and parking behind you. 

You barely glance back, already waving them off. “Thanks, I’m good—”

But then you hear a too-familiar voice say, “Well, that doesn’t look promising.”

Of course.

You turn around slowly.

And there he is.

John Walker, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Need a hand?” he asks, already strolling over like he’s been waiting his whole life to rescue you.

“I uh…” You start becasure you’re so tempted to say “I got this” but the moment your eyes look back at whatever the fuck is going on in your car, you sigh.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he’d asked.

“Yeah, it’s in the boot,” you’d said, thinking nothing of it.

Then he came back, popped the hood, and casually peeled his shirt off with a warning: “Don’t read into anything. I just don’t want grease on my shirt.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, a little too quickly.

You didn’t say anything, but that sure as hell didn’t stop you from watching. Because damn. The man was all broad shoulders, and strong arms that had no business looking that good twisting bolts.

You could’ve watched him work all day.

“Try starting it,” he called, interrupting your horny thoughts.

You slid back into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. It’s a miracle.

“Thank you, seriously.”

He leaned over the hood, smug smile fully loaded. “No problem. That should get you moving, but you definitely need to take this to a garage. I can come with you, if you want.”

Seeing the way your face contorts, he follows up with an explanation before you start berating him again. 

“You’ll need a ride home after, won’t you?”

“Oh, true… I guess I’ll take you up on your offer. I mean as long as I'm not keeping you from Tommy, am I?” You say as you watch him put his shirt back on.

“No, he's at his grandparents’ place.”

“Oh same with Lily,” You admit.

“Guess we have some errands to run together then.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You arrive back home in his car and say “Home sweet home,” because you didn’t know what the fuck you were talking baout. Ever since you watched him fix your car, haggle down the price of your repair with the mechanic and drive you home, you’d been in a bit of a daze. A ‘John Walker is the perfect man’ daze to be exact.

“Do you ... wanna come in?” You say, the words escaping you, but what you didn’t expect was his reply.

“Sure.”

You welcome him in, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as John casually walks around your house. 

It was clean, for once and cosy too, filled with little signs of your life with Lily. Pictures lined the walls: school plays, messy birthday parties, soccer games. Her drawings were stuck to the fridge with mismatched magnets.

“This you?” John asks, voice tinged with amusement.

You turn to see him holding a framed photo from the shelf, a younger you, maybe around Lily’s age, standing proudly in a baseball uniform, cap askew and a dirt-smudged grin on your face.

You roll your eyes but smile. “Yeah. I peaked in Little League.”

He chuckles, eyes still on the photo. “You look like you were about to take someone out at home plate.”

“I probably did.”

He glances over at you, that familiar smirk on his face. “Not much has changed then.”

You snort. “Are you calling me aggressive?”

“I’m saying I’d definitely want you on my team,” he replies, setting the photo down gently. “You were a force to be reckoned with, no doubt,” he says with a chuckle.

“Always.”

“Are there more?” he asks, leaning a little closer with that annoyingly charming glint in his eye.

You cross your arms, sitting back a little as you narrow your eyes. “Nuh uh. We are not going through my baby pictures.”

“Yes, we are.”

And five minutes later, you were both on the couch with a photo album spread across your lap.

“You even look like a soccer ball in this one,” he teases, pointing to a photo of you in a puffy striped onesie.

“I bet you were an ugly baby,” you fire back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’ll have you know I was adorable. Practically a Gerber baby.”

He flips a page and pauses. “Is this you or Lily?”

“That’s Lily,” you say, your smile softening.

“She looks just like you.”

“I like to call her my twin,” you laugh. “And she hates it.”

Time ticks by, and you barely even notice it. The room has dimmed with the setting sun, shadows creeping in, and a warmth building low in your stomach. You’ve been flipping through photo albums for what must’ve been hours, laughing and teasing each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then you hear it, John’s stomach growling, loud and unmistakable. You glance at him, and he’s already giving you a sheepish smile. Clearly, you’re both thinking the same thing.

“I was going to order Thai,” you say casually. “If you wanted to stay for dinner.”

He hesitates for only a second. “I’d like that.”

Later, the two of you are curled up on the couch, takeout containers spread between you, Real Housewives playing in the background. The chaotic drama on screen contrasts with the quiet ease between you.

It had been so long since you’d just relaxed like this with someone—someone who wasn’t Ava or Lily. And it felt good. Easy. Right.

“I have a suggestion, feel free to say no.”

“Hit me,” John says, leaning back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushion behind you.

You bite back a grin. “I have a bottle of whiskey that’s begging to be opened. Wanna throw on some music and help me put it out of its misery?”

He lifts an eyebrow, a slow smile creeping onto his face. “Why not?”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

You shouldn’t drink around him. At this point, you were touchy and honestly just saying shit for the sake of saying shit. You’re not too drunk but definitely tipsy enough to say whatever comes to your mind. 

“I haven’t seen Tommy’s mom around. Did you guys split up?” you blurt out, half-curious, half-dreading the answer. You feel a drop in the atmosphere as his hands seem to tighten on the glass. 

“Sorry, you don’t need to answer. That was weird of me to ask…” You're trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh no, it’s okay, she uh,” he says quietly. “She passed a few years ago.”

You pause, your posture softening. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” he says, voice low but steady. “Still tough without her, but we manage.”

He glances down, like he’s trying to ground himself before continuing.

“I’d like to say I was a good husband, but I was always away in the army. I could’ve been better before she…” He trails off, eyes now solely focused on the liquid swirling in his glass. 

You stay quiet, wanting to listen rather than rush in. 

“When I came back from my last tour, she was already sick. But for a while, we were okay. We were happy. Then she got worse. It was hard seeing her like that when she was so full of life before I left. I felt like I had missed so much, and when she…” He pauses again, his voice catching in his throat like he was being choked. 

“Tommy’s the only thing that kept me going after. I’m always scared I’ll mess things up with him and miss the important stuff. That I already am.”

He exhales sharply, almost laughing at himself. “Shit. Sorry. I’m rambling.”

“Not at all,” you say gently, shaking your head. “And I can tell you’re a good dad. Anyone can. He's such a sweet kid and he adores you.”

He looks at you then, and for once, there’s no smirk, no one-liner. Just quiet gratitude.

“Thanks,” he says. “That means more than you know.”

You both take another drink, the burn lingering in your throat like something you don’t mind holding onto for a while.

“What about you? I noticed there aren’t any pictures of Lily’s dad around,” he asks, voice softer now, like he’s not just making conversation anymore.

“We got divorced ages ago. He was a total disaster.”

You let out a dry laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “We got married too young, had Lily, got divorced two years in and… I honestly can’t even remember the last time he showed up for her. No birthday messages, no calls. Nothing.”

You pause, trying not to let the anger twist your words.

“It’s a shame because she’s so amazing,” you add, staring into your glass. “And her dad doesn't give her the time of day and never has. She deserves so much better than that, and I wish I could be everything for her, but I…”

John’s quiet, listening. Really listening, giving you the space that you gave him. 

“It’s hard doing it on your own,” you say, looking up at him. “I know you get that.”

He nods slowly, then offers a small, warm smile. “It’s his loss. She’s a kick-ass kid with a pretty kick-ass mom.”

You laugh, the real kind this time.

“I genuinely thought you were about to fight me the day we met,” he says, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You grin. “I was about to fight you.”

“Very hot.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling and, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel exhausting to let someone in.

“Okay, Mr. Tight-White-Shirt,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks instantly. “Ah, so you were ogling me that day.”

Damn. You walked right into that one.

“A woman can’t appreciate the male form?” you say, all mock innocence.

John laughs, shaking his head as he takes another drink. The music shifts, a different song now, low and smooth, some classic jazz number that’s always sounded like warmth and memory and late nights.

You perk up instantly. “John, we have to dance.”

He blinks. “What?”

“C’mon!”

Before he can argue, you’re already pulling him to his feet drunkenly. He hesitates for half a second, then relents because, of course, he does. His hands find your waist, cautious at first, and you wrap your arms around his neck as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I can’t remember the last time I slow danced,” you murmur against his chest.

“Same,” John says quietly. “In all honesty, it was… probably my wedding.”

 “Damn, me too,” You let out a low laugh. “Did you go all out?”

“We tried,” he nods. “We had lessons and everything. I remember practising in our tiny apartment, knocking over chairs and swearing a ton.”

She grins. “I bet you were shit.”

John, very much in ‘John’ fashion, gasps. “Correction, I was the shit.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna show you. Get ready to be dipped.”

Your eyes widen as you look up at him, suspicion written all over your face. “No way. You’ll drop me.”

He smirks. “I won’t. Trust me. I’m strong and very capable.”

Before you can protest again, he spins you, just fast enough to make your stomach flip. And you squeal, laughing as you come back into his arms.

“See?” he says, proud as hell. “Didn’t hurt a hair on your pretty head.”

You’re still laughing, slightly breathless, heart thudding in your chest for reasons that have very little to do with the dancing.

“I hate to say it,” you murmur, “but that was quite smooth.”

“Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might think you like me.”

You look up at him and realise, you’ve never been this close to him, unless you count getting in his face at a soccer match, but this was different. It was a whole new type of tension. 

“Whatever…” you say, but it comes out with no bite. Not even close.

Maybe because you’re tipsy, but under the dim lighting of your living room, with the jazz still murmuring in the background and that stupid, crooked smile on his face.

You reach up, fingers brushing his cheek before you even fully realise what you're doing.

“I like your beard,” you blurt out, your thumb lightly grazing the line of it.

He blinks, surprised, not because of what you said, but because of how gently you said it.

“Yeah?” he says, voice a little quieter now.

He’s not able to get another word out before you’re kissing him, soft and tender. His hands cup your face as he kisses you like there’s a magnet pulling you to him. Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies, hands desperate to touch skin. He lifts you off the floor, your lips not breaking contact. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands cup your ass as he walks you over to a wall. Pressing you against it and kissing your neck like he’s trying to consume you. “Oh, John…”

Breathing heavily and looking into each other’s eyes.“Upstairs, first door on the right.”

Your back hits the wall again, but gently this time, his lips brushing over yours before pulling back just enough to ask, “You sure?”

You nod, breathless. “Go.”

He carries you like it’s effortless, one hand steady beneath your thigh, the other gripping the bannister as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Reaching the top, he kicks the door open with his foot. The room is dim, the late evening light bleeding through the curtains, but neither of you cares. You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. His mouth is on yours again before it hits the ground.

You fall into the bed together, tangled and wild and urgent, but with something else beneath it all. Something tender. Like every kiss and touch is catching up on lost time you didn’t even know you missed.

“Mind if I leave marks?”

“You can,” You gasp out and he goes to work, biting and sucking your skin. In all honesty, your drunk brain needed a memento, a way to remind sober-you that this wasn’t some sex dream. 

You feel his strong hands wrap around your wrists, and he squeezes them. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his presence. 

“I want you,” John breathes and it sounds so good hearing it. Like you had both finally done away with pretense and given in to what you wanted to do since you met which was rip your clothes off and fuck eachother senseless. 

He starts kissing his way down your body, taking  his sweet time in making you feel good. Reveling in the way you react to him.

When he reaches your panties, he doesn’t hesitate to tug them off his teeth and the sight of him doing that nearly kills you. 

He starts eating you out like a man possessed, his beard tickling your inner thighs. He needs your pussy on his face and he needs it now. As he licks and sucks, driving you insane, your legs start slowly closing, trying to shy away from how good it felt. He catches them, prying them back open. 

“Keep them open for me.”

You nod but he wants more than that.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll keep my legs open for you,” You say and you think you’d do the splits on his face if he wanted. 

“Good girl,” he smirks before going back to ruining you. It had been too long since you felt like this, but even then, you had never felt like this. You were feverish and sensitive, fighting to keep yourself sane. You never recall feeling like you were dying of happiness when anyone else had gone down on you. Must be the John Walker effect.

The more you struggle and shake, the more pressure he applies. His hand rests on your stomach to hold you in place as he sucks on your clit.

Feeling the pleasure growing, you instantly try to muffle your moans with your fist. He moves his mouth away from your aching core and reaches up with one of his hands, moving your fist away. You look at him with reverence and surprise.

“You don’t need to hide…” He says, his other hand still moving inside you, “I want to hear you.”

You don’t speak right away. You just look at him, this man who had once driven you absolutely insane, who now felt like the only person who could see through all the armour.

“I’m not used to being seen,” you finally whisper.

“I know,” John says, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “But I see you.”

He moves back into position between your legs, and you let him have every moan you have. 

“John!” 

You finish, back arching, legs trembling and clenching down on his head with your thighs so hard you’re scared you might kill him. 

But he doesn't stop, instead going faster. “H-hey!” You moan out as you kick your legs around, which he clearly takes as a challenge.

Wrangling your legs and pinning them over your head, your body now in the shape of a backwards C.

“You’re lucky I’m not tying you up,” John comments and you shiver at how good that sounds. 

He gets up on his knees, continuing to lick at your trembling folds as he fingers you even faster, adding a third finger that had you moaning in desperation.

It's like he's set your whole body on fire, the feeling of your lost orgasm threatening to push you straight into another one.

“John, it’s so…” You croak, your eyes focusing and unfocusing. “Think I’m gonna cum again.”

At this point, your voice is hoarse, each touch he’s giving you making you scream and cry out like you’ve never done before. 

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You nod, your eyes gassy with tears, “Wanna be your…your good girl.”

You could feel something coming, as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his fingers massaging your G-spot. 

It only takes a few moments before you're letting your body relax and squirt all over his fingers, the pleasure washing over you in waves. You’re too undone to make a noise, breathing heavily and choking on air. There are a few seconds where you think you’ve died.

He unfolds you, and you lie back down on the bed, needing him instantly. 

“John,” You whine, reaching out for him, and he’s right there, pulling you into his arms and taking care of you.

“What about you?” You ask. He had just about taken you to heaven and believe me you wanted to return the favour.

“Next time.”

Your heart flutters with the thought of a ‘next time’.

“Okay,” You snuggle against him and fall asleep together in pure bliss.  

You wake up in the morning, expecting to feel John’s arms around you. But there's no one there. You sit up and look around, but find nothing. No note explaining where he was and his car's no longer in the driveway.

You came to the conclusion, he woke up, saw you and decided that it was a mistake. It was disappointing but you’re used to being disappointed.

So much for ‘I see you’. 

So much for ‘next time’.

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

The next couple of days are a blur, it’s back to business as usual. Soccer practice, laundry, answering emails with a fake sense of urgency. To anyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed, but not to your daughter.

“I saw Tommy yesterday,” she says casually as she sets her backpack down.

“Oh? How is he?” you ask, trying to sound neutral.

“Great, but his dad didn’t look too happy…”

Your ears perk up at that. He was also miserable? Good. It was his fault anyway… wasn’t it?

“You don’t look happy either.”

You flinch at how blunt she is. You should’ve known, there was no hiding anything from her. She might only be a kid, but she could read you like a book.

“Lily…” you start, but she cuts you off with the maturity of someone far beyond her years.

“Just be adults and talk to him…”

“It's not that simple,” Your voice is shaky with uncertainty. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak if you were face-to-face with him again.

“Well you need to especially since I’m going over to Tommy’s today.”

“You what?” you say, nearly falling out of your chair.

“You said I could,” she adds quickly. “Last week, before… whatever this is.”

Damn it. She was right. You had completely blanked on that. It was before the whole thing with John went bust.

You were conflicted with how you felt about John, but you wouldn’t let your issues affect her. 

“Fine, go get your stuff. We leave in five.”

You drive over to his place, your heart dropping lower and lower as you get closer to his house. Your fingers grip your steering wheel like it’s your lifeline. 

“You’re not coming in to say hi?” Lily asks almost incredulously.

“I think it’s best I don’t. I’ll be here at 6 to pick you up. Have fun!”

Lily doesn’t say anything at first; she just looks at you, brows raised, lips pursed like she’s debating whether or not to push. Was that what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of your judging looks? You didn't like it one bit. 

But in the end, she sighs, unbuckles her seatbelt, and grabs her bag. “You two are so dramatic.”

He sees her first, ruffles her hair, then his gaze shifts past her, locking with yours through the windshield. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough. You look away first.

Then you drive off, trying not to think about him. 

Hours pass, John is very much on your mind the entire time, and before you know it, you’re back at his house to pick up Lily. Walking your way up the driveway, you feel your nerves creeping in. You hesitate a second before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” John greets you, opening the door—and he looks just as good as the last time you saw him, maybe even better.

“Hey yourself,” you reply awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

There's the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs, and then Tommy appears, greeting you with a wide grin.

“It’s time to go already?” Lily calls from behind him, voice dripping with faux innocence. She was laying it on thick.

Before you can answer, Tommy jumps in. “Can you and Lily stay for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” You start, unsure how to say no politely.

“Dad, convince her. We’re having your famous spagbol,” Tommy adds, eyes hopeful.

You catch the look on his face—so earnest, so excited—and then turn to John. An easy smile creeps onto your face despite yourself. 

“Famous, huh?”

John smirks. “It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

By the time dinner is ready, it feels easy with him, dangerously easy. You sit around the table with him and the kids, laughing between bites of spaghetti, the kind of domestic quiet that used to feel foreign now curling around you like a blanket. It felt so right. But still, there’s that persistent whisper in the back of your mind — If he wanted this, really wanted this, he would’ve stayed that night.

Before you can spiral too deep into your own thoughts, Tommy pipes up brightly, “Can Lily and I have a sleepover?”

You glance at John, caught off guard. “Lily and I should really get going, plus Lily doesn’t have anything to change into.”

“I brought clothes and my toothbrush,” Lily says far too quickly.

You narrow your eyes. “And why did you do that if you were just supposed to stay for the afternoon?”

Lily and Tommy exchange a look — a guilty, sheepish look that screams we planned this.

John chuckles under his breath, clearly catching on. “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, glancing at you. “I could set up a spot for Lily in Tommy’s room.”

“You should stay too!” Tommy adds enthusiastically, eyes shining with innocent matchmaking energy.

“I don’t have any pyjamas to sleep in, Tom,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“You can borrow my dad’s!” he says like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

You blink. These kids were really committing to the bit.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” You begin, your voice a little quieter, your gaze flicking to John.

“You wouldn’t be,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I have a guest room. It’s yours if you want it.”

His voice is calm, but there’s something soft in it. An invitation. Like he wanted you to stay. 

“It’s decided then,” Your daughter interjects before you can try to squirm out of it.

You had been tricked by two 9-year-olds; this was a new low. 

The hours drifted by as you sat in the living room, all watching a movie together.

Your eyes were fixed on the screen, but all you could think about was John. The fact that sitting just a few feet away, but still felt so far away. 

Though if you had turned your head to look at him, you would’ve seen him looking back at you. His gaze would tell you everything you wanted to hear, but alas, that isn’t fate’s plan. 

The movie ends, and the kids groan when John tells them it’s time for bed. It’s a whirlwind, as they rush around tuckering themselves out. Entering Tommy’s room, you go over to Lily, who’s already in bed, ready for you to tuck her in. You pull the blanket up to Lily’s chin, smoothing her hair like you do most nights, your voice soft in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Remember, be an adult,” Lily says, reminding you not to be a coward, essentially. 

“Goodnight, Lil,” You reply before kissing her forehead. Maybe, just maybe, you’d consider her words. 

“Goodnight, Mom,” she murmurs, already half-dreaming.

You stand slowly, and as you turn to leave, you notice Tommy looking at you. His eyes are peeking out from under his blanket, lids heavy but alert.

You pause. “Do you want me to tuck you in, too?”

He hesitates, then gives the smallest nod, like he’s not quite sure he should, but wants to anyway.

You gently and carefully tuck him into his covers like you had with Lily. “There,” you whisper. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing one eye. “Thanks, Mom.”

You’re shocked hearing him call you ‘Mom’. You glance down at him, already drifting off, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, completely unaware of the weight his words carried.

You swallow and manage a quiet, “Goodnight,” brushing his hair back gently before slipping out of the room. What you don’t know is that on the other side of the hallway, just out of sight, John is standing perfectly still.

He’d heard it too.

He didn’t know how to respond to it either, wasn’t sure what it meant or what came next, but for now, he was just… happy. Happy that his son felt safe with you. 

Later that night, you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, your thoughts louder than the quiet hum of the house. The shadows shift with the streetlight outside, but your mind stays frozen. You were wearing his shirt, and he was on your mind. It smelled like him, and you could imagine his arms around you. You bury your face in it, wishing that he was with you and not in a room down the hallway. 

You needed to confront what happened that night. You hadn’t talked about it since. It lingered like static between you, unspoken but never forgotten. And you couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter, not when it meant everything. 

You needed to know if he wanted you when you’re both sober.

So, gathering every ounce of courage, you throw off the blanket, slide quietly out of bed, and make your way down the hall to his room. The floor feels colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just your nerves.

You stop in front of his door.

Raise your fist.

And then… freeze.

You stand there for what feels like forever, five minutes, at least, your knuckles hovering midair. Your heart pounds loud enough to fill the silence, your thoughts racing. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if that night was just a mistake?

Suddenly, the door swings open, and it startles the living hell out of you — your fist, already midair, connects squarely with his face.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as John stumbles back, one hand instantly flying to his nose.

“Shit,” he groans, squinting in pain and trying to blink away the surprise. “You can throw quite a punch.”

“Oh my god, John. Holy fuck. I am so, so sorry,” you ramble, panic surging through you as you hover uselessly in front of him. “Let me get ice, I’ll fix it… just, don’t die.”

You spin around and scuttle off toward the kitchen, trying to keep your footsteps light even though your heart’s thudding like a drum solo. The freezer is a disaster. No ice trays. Who doesn’t have ice trays?

You spot something. Grab it.

Moments later, you return with a sheepish expression and a frozen bag clutched in your hand.

“I couldn’t find an ice tray,” you mutter, pressing the bag gently to his face, “so I got peas.”

You sit down with him on the bed, holding the bag of peas to his nose. “That won’t bruise or anything, right?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Worried about my handsome face, are you?” John jokes, and you’re just glad he has a sense of humour about it. 

You groan and drop your forehead onto his shoulder, mortified. “This was not how I pictured this going.”

His hand gently touches the small of your back. “You were coming to talk to me, right? About… us?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. Before I assaulted you.”

“Let’s start there,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes with a crooked smile. “Because I was kinda hoping we’d finally talk about it too.”

“Really? It didn’t feel like that since you ran,” you say, voice low. You were trying not to sound hurt, but you were. He weighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and moves his bag of peas off his face to look at you.

“You’re right to be mad. I just… I panicked when I woke up next to you.”

“You were regretful,” you say, attempting to finish his sentence. His eyes widen, and his mouth parts like he’s about to protest.

“No, no—that’s not it at all. I was scared. That if you saw me when you woke up, you’d think it was a mistake.”

He takes a breath, shuffling closer. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re such a pain in the ass, always calling me out and keeping me on my toes. But also kind, and funny, and you make me feel so… alive.”

His hand lifts gently, your cheek resting against his palm. It feels perfect, like this is what fate had in store all along.

“I'm an idiot for running but I do like you. I’m falling for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, heart racing. “I’m falling for you, too, John Walker.”

Pulling him in, your hands still cold and wet from holding the bag of peas, but he doesn’t care. You kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you upright—like if you stop, everything might collapse around you. 

The two of you pull your clothes off each other's bodies but there's no rush. Each layer that comes off brings you that much closer together.

Now completely naked you sit in front of him and you can see why he has all that confidence. His fingers tangle in your hair and he's about to kiss you when you stop him.

“Will they hear?”

“There's a couple rooms between us, they won't hear as long as you're not too loud.”

“We both know that's going to be a challenge,”You say, recalling the way you were hollering when he ate you out. Your surprised that none of your neighbours issued a noise complaint.

“You need to try or I'll have to find something to gag you with,” John suggests, his voice low and sultry.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

He pressures you back into the bed and bites your neck hard enough to leave a big mark.

“You better hope no one asks about that.”

“Let them ask, you can explain to them exactly what I did to you.”

The marks don't stop there. By the time he's done you look like you've been attacked by a wild animal. Hickeys and love bites littered all over your skin, each one a testament of John's desire for you.

“Need you inside me,” You pant out already guiding him towards you with your legs. 

He looks down at you with hooded eyes the anticipation eating you alive before he wraps his arms around you and crarryignyou off the bed.

“Where are we—?” You start but don't finish as you notice he's plopped you down right in front of a mirror.

It's the perfect solution for when someone wants to fuck you from behind and see you fall apart of their cock. Thank everything for whoever invented mirrors.

He lightly kicks your feet apart, hands gliding up your body before resting on your boobs.

You getting back against him, trying to feel him and needing him to fuck the daylights out of you. It had been long enough and you were tired of waiting. 

“Impatient, aren't you?”

“I just need you. Don't make me suffer,” You pout, the mirror capturing the needy look in your eyes. 

“Well, who am I to say no to you?” He says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in.

Anticipating the screen you were about to let out, he covers your mouth with his hand.  Only the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing in the room. 

“Look at yourself, look at how quickly you feel apart for me,” John whispers against your ear. And he was right. You were a complete mess after only a few thrusts, eyes watery as your neck arches into him.

“So good,” You manage to get out without screaming. He grabs you by the hair, exposing your neck too him as he gives you a few more hickeys for good measure. Rocking your hips into you as he paints your neck with his lips.

Suddenly, your hips are being lifted into the air as he wraps his arms around you as if getting ready to suplex you. The way he starts fucking you is just as disorientating as a suplex would be. He's hitting your sensitive spot dead on turning your legs to jelly as they dangle in the air.

He's manhandling like you're a doll and you love it, especially when you can see it all happening in the mirror. The way his veins on his arms were popping with effort as he milks his cock with your pussy like you're a fleshlight.

“That's it, breed me, John.”

Hearing you say that only made him double his efforts.

“Is that what you want? Want me to get you pregnant?” John says, his fingers gripping your hips, clearly excited at the prospect. You nod desperately like you need to have it or you'll die.

You gasp, whimper, cry and reaching out for anything to keep you quiet.

“N-need you to fill me up,” You stutter out, “Need your cum in me.”

Then you're given a brief break when he pulls you back from the mirror, tossing you back into the bed. But two seconds don't even pass before he's feeding his cock back into your needy hole.

“J-john!”

You squeal a little too loudly and never you know it his hand is on your chin guiding your own panties in your mouth. 

“Such a pretty sight,” John says as he cages you, fingers intertwining as he pins you against the bed.

 You know you won't be able to keep going much longer. Wrecked doesn't even begin to describe what you were and your orgasm was about to knock you into a whole new dimension.

Feeling his cock twitch, you lock your legs around his waist and he finishes deep inside of you which triggers your own orgasm. His hot cum fills you up, painting your fluttering walls as he effectively breeds you.

The both of you lay there catching your breath as your orgasms pulse through you. This was what life was about; having sex with hot single dads. 

You come back to your senses, just barely and have an evil idea.

Seeing the opportunity fate had presented you for payback, you flip your positions climbing on top of him and riding him into overstimulation. A strangled cry that was supposed to be your name falling from his lips. 

“Baby…” John whimpers as his body tenses up, abs contracting lines he's already about to cum again.

You could get used to having him at your mercy, bottom lip trembling as he tries to keep it together. 

“I like seeing you like this. So desperate for me and only me.” You pulling him to your lips by his hair. He groans but he's into it, he'd let you have your way with him just as much as you let him have his way with you.

“Only you,” He replies and you believe it. 

Your hand away from his hair, letting John's head hit the mattress, before going in and leaving your own string of love bites. He bites his lip, all but writhing under your soft touch. 

“Someone might see those.”

“Then you can explain to them what I did,” You say throwing his words back in his face.

You keep fucking until you tire yourselves out, your bodies sticky and heaving. It was as good as you imagined it would be and you're kicking yourself for not giving in earlier.

John's hand rests on your thigh tracing little patterns as you play with his hair when he asks a very pertinent question.

“Are you on birth control?”

Your eyes widen when you realise you are in fact not on birth control. With the downright sad lack of sex you were having before John walked into your life there was no reason to be on it.

“No”, You gulp,“We'll talk about it in the morning?”

John hums in agreement and holds you against his chest in a vice grip that screams “You're mine.”

In the morning, you’re happy to feel John’s arms still wrapped around you, his face pressed against your shoulder, his breath slow and even. Peaceful.

“Who wants pancakes?” you call out, later in the kitchen, sliding a golden stack onto the table with a grin.

You have a slow, sweet morning breakfast—the kind where everyone’s still in pyjamas, laughing over spilt flour and slightly burnt edges.

“Oh! Let me go get the syrup. Can you show me where it is, Tommy?” you ask.

Tommy nods enthusiastically, hopping up and heading toward the pantry with you, eager to help you find it.

Back at the table, Lily narrows her eyes at John, clearly sizing him up. Then, dead serious, she delivers:

“If you hurt my mom, you die. Understood?”

John blinks, caught off guard for a second, but then a slow smile tugs at his lips. He knew exactly where she got that intensity from.

“Understood.”

“Good,” Lily says, her expression finally softening. “You make great spagbol so I'd hate to have to kill you.”

ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎ ᯓ⚽︎

It’s been a few months since you and John started dating — the kind of comfortable, lived-in months where you had keys to each other's places, regularly took the kids out together, and fell asleep on the couch on each other. 

Unlocking the door, John and Tommy step inside, and they’re immediately hit with the scent of burnt toast, a low hum of music, and the unmistakable energy of mild chaos. They were here to pick you and Lily up to carpool to the Saturday morning game, but it looked like they’d walked into a warzone, and at least it smelled like pancakes.

“Morning!” Tommy calls out as he looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Oh hi, guys,” you pant out from somewhere in the kitchen, out of breath and flustered. He doesn’t need to be able to see you to know you’re going through it.

Lily’s sitting at the dining room table, calmly sipping orange juice like she’s been through this before. Tommy runs over and sits beside Lily, swiping a pancake off her plate.

“Mom’s having a meltdown,” she says, totally unbothered. “It’s pretty intense. She yelled at the coffee machine.”

John raises an eyebrow and walks to the kitchen, and there you are, wearing one sock and a hoodie that you actually stole from John, batter on your cheek, surrounded by open containers and the remnants of pancake making.

“It’s so good to see you,” You cry as you practically jump into his arms. You let go of him so you can continue your spiral when he stops you. 

“Honey, you’re running around like a headless chicken. Let me help,” John offers.

You hesitate, then sigh and reach into the mess on the counter and pull out a hairbrush. “Can you finish braiding Lil’s hair for me? She’s lost her lucky cleats, and I need to find them before we leave.”

“On it.”

He kisses your forehead, warm and steady, before heading into the kitchen.

Lily watches him approach with guarded suspicion. “Please don’t mess this up.”

John grins. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional.”

He ruffles her hair on purpose, just to rile her up, and she bats his hand away with a huff and a laugh. 

Meanwhile, you’re darting around the house in full-on panic mom mode — lifting couch cushions, checking under the bed, even inside the fridge for some reason (you never know), until finally, you spot the missing shoes. Inside her toy chest, naturally, buried under a plastic tiara and two mismatched Barbie legs.

You walk back into the dining room to the sound of laughter, Tommy’s head thrown back as John tells some ridiculous story, funny voices and all. Lily’s giggling along too as he finishes tying off the braid with surprising skill.

You lean against the doorframe, heart swelling. It’s loud, it’s messy, but it’s yours. And in that moment, it hits you: this is what happy looks like.

“Found it,” you say, holding the shoes up triumphantly.

John looks up, grinning. “See? I told you everything would come together.”

You smile at him. This is perfect; he’s perfect.

“Are we ready to go?” you call out, grabbing your bag and keys.

They respond in a chorus of “Yeah!” and “Almost!” as shoes squeak across the floor.

Clambering into the car like a small tornado, Tommy buckles in and grins over at Lily. “Losing team’s parent buys ice cream,” he declares.

“Ohhh, bold move,” you say, raising your eyebrows in the rearview mirror.

“Looks like you’re buying ice cream,” John says smugly, sliding into the driver's seat, glancing at you like he already knows today’s outcome.

“In your dreams,” you shoot back, smirking as you start the engine.

This was the kind of happiness that sneaks up on you when you’re not paying attention—and all it took was yelling at a hot dad at a soccer game.

Masterlist

[norrisidous]

I had this as a dream and I woke up all grumpy because I wish it was real 😭😭😭

Basically, reader is a reserve driver for Mclaren but also in f1 Academy, and she and Lando have always been super close. One day, she has to race instead of Oscar, and she ends up leading the race. However, near the end she asks the team to swap with lando (who she kept within DRS to help him out) because she knew he could use the points more than her since she's not an official f1 racer. Lando refuses, and reader wins her very first race. Lando is overwhelmed by how much he loves her and he just marches up to her and pulls her in from her waist to kiss her (could be private or public) and they're both just so proud of each other and so down bad 🥹🥹🥹

In the Slipstream

summary: where a surprise victory, a selfless offer, and a kiss at the finish line—some moments change everything, on and off the track. warnings: none

You never really expected to race in Formula 1—not yet, anyway.

Being McLaren’s reserve driver was already a dream you clutched tightly, and your time in the F1 Academy was sharpening your edge, day by day. You were grinding for the future, for the chance that maybe, if the stars aligned, you’d get that one golden shot. Still, you didn’t expect it to arrive on a cool spring weekend in Imola.

Oscar had come down with a stomach virus—something violent and sudden. When the team principal tapped your shoulder that morning, the pit lane buzzing behind him, you felt your stomach flip in sync with the revving engines.

“You’re up.”

You didn’t even have time to be nervous. It was all a blur—briefings, simulator data, seat fitting, strategy talk, and a surprising amount of people suddenly treating you not like the F1 Academy kid, but like McLaren’s actual second driver.

And then there was Lando.

He was always your rock. From the earliest days at the McLaren simulator to now, he was the constant thread in the chaos. He teased you like an older brother when you first joined, but somewhere along the line, it shifted. Quiet moments in the motorhome, texts that lingered, eyes that held yours just a little too long. The bond between you deepened—unspoken, but undeniable.

As you stood side by side before the race, helmet in hand, Lando bumped his shoulder against yours.

“Nervous?”

You smiled, adjusting your gloves. “Terrified.”

He grinned, green eyes twinkling. “Good. That means you’ll be sharp.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread like fire.

The race began in a flash.

Lights out. Your start was electric. Years of F1 Academy training and sim practice paid off instantly. Clean overtakes. Smart tire management. You quickly moved through the midfield, shock and awe blooming around you like wildfire.

And then… you were leading.

Not by much—but enough to see the papaya blur of Lando’s car in your mirrors, stuck tightly in your DRS range. You’d coordinated perfectly without speaking, both of you playing the strategy game like chess masters. You gave him DRS when he needed it, pulled when it counted, and he protected your tail like a guardian.

But you knew what was at stake.

You weren’t supposed to be here—not permanently. This race didn’t count toward a championship for you. For Lando, it could mean everything. A podium. A shot at the title. Or even just the points to prove himself in a field that always underestimated him.

So with ten laps to go, your voice broke over the radio, steady but full of emotion.

“Tell Lando… he can take the win. I’ll open the door in sector two.”

There was silence. Then the engineer’s voice returned, startled. “Say again?”

“I want him to take it. I’ll back off.”

More silence.

Then a voice crackled in—his voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando snapped. “You earned this. I’m not taking it.”

Your throat tightened. “Lan—”

“No. You’re not giving it away. Not to me. Not to anyone. Finish this.”

You blinked rapidly, fighting the sting in your eyes as the turns blurred.

Lap after lap, he stayed on your tail—but didn’t challenge. Not once. Just close enough to show he was there. That he believed in you.

You crossed the checkered flag, engine screaming, heart slamming, and your name ringing through the paddock for the first time in F1 victory.

Race winner: (Y/N), McLaren.

You pulled into the pit lane, overwhelmed, hands shaking. The team was screaming over the radio, cheering like mad. You climbed out of the car and tugged your helmet off, letting the cool air hit your sweat-damp hair.

And then—he was there.

Lando walked straight toward you with purpose, jaw tight, eyes wild. No words. Just energy.

Before you could say a thing, he reached for you, hands gripping your waist, and pulled you flush against him.

Then he kissed you.

Hard, desperate, and real.

The paddock didn’t exist. The cameras didn’t matter. All you felt was him. His hands. His breath. The quake of his chest against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes still shut.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispered. “And I’m so in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t stop crying. The win, the adrenaline, the months of quiet longing—it all came crashing down in that single moment.

You held his face gently, brushing a thumb over the smear of sweat at his temple.

“I love you too,” you said softly, voice cracking. “I wanted you to win because I love you.”

He shook his head, still smiling.

“I wanted you to win. Because you deserve the world.”

The press didn’t let it go.

That kiss was everywhere. The headlines blared: ‘MCLAREN’S SURPRISE STAR STEALS HEART AND WIN’, ‘F1’S NEWEST POWER COUPLE?’, ‘Lando and (Y/N): Love in the Fast Lane’.

You didn’t care.

That night, after the whirlwind of interviews and champagne and congratulations, you sat together on the edge of the hotel balcony, legs tangled under a shared blanket. The Italian moon cast a silver glow over everything.

Lando rested his chin on your shoulder. “So… world champion next?”

You laughed softly. “One race at a time.”

He kissed your neck. “Then let’s make it the most beautiful one yet.”

[randominchident]

lucky kisses

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. charles leclerc x reader ⋆ 𐙚 ̊.

It starts with a nervous smile in Monaco and a soft kiss on the tip of Charles’s nose—just a little kiss for good luck. It becomes a habit. max version here

It starts in Monaco.

You’re leaning against the Ferrari garage wall, arms crossed and sunglasses on, trying not to look like you’re bursting with nerves. Charles is in his race suit. Half-zipped. Bouncing on his heels like he’s got Red Bull running through his veins.

He walks over, fiddling with his gloves, and gives you that crooked little smile—the one that melts you every time. His head tilts just slightly to the side. Butterflies still erupt in your stomach everytime he smiles like that. Even after months of dating.

“You nervous for me, chérie?” he teases, as if he isn’t just as stressed himself.

“I’m always nervous,” you reply honestly. You reach for his wrist, tug him closer to you.

He laughs and bumps his forehead against yours for a second. It’s all you need to press a soft kiss right on the tip of his nose, spontaneous and sweet.

“There,” you murmur. “For good luck.”

He blinks, surprised, but a cautious smile spreads across his face. “You think that’ll help?”

You shrug. “It felt right.”

Charles just grins, red tinting his cheeks. “Then I better win.”

He’s quiet for a moment, about to turn away towards the garage. He should go. But instead he turns back to you and whispers softly in your ear:

“Maybe I need just a bit more luck first.” 

The kiss he presses to your lips is soft, a feeling of complete devotion behind it. Then he’s gone. Being pulled away by engineers before you can even whisper goodbye to each other. 

He finishes second.

Not a win, but a clean race. A podium in his hometown. Smart overtakes. No mechanical failures. And—most importantly—a smile so wide it crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he spots you after the race.

He practically bounds into your arms the second he’s free from interviews, suit half-peeled off, hair flattened from the helmet, skin sticky from champagne, and absolutely glowing.

“P2,” he says breathlessly. “Not bad, huh?”

You grin, looping your arms around his neck. “I told you: my kisses are lucky.”

He kisses your cheek. Then your temple. Then rests his forehead against yours and sighs contently.

“Next time, I’ll win.”

The next race, you’re sitting on the pit wall bench when he approaches you in full race kit, gloves tucked under his arm.

He says nothing—just stands in front of you and raises a brow, expectantly.

You blink up at him. “What?”

He leans in. Taps the bridge of his nose. “I believe you owe me something.”

You laugh, cheeks warm. “Oh, we’re doing that again?”

“Chérie,” he says, deadly serious, “I need it. I promised you I’d win. The team says tire degradation will be bad. I’m starting P4. There’s no way I’m going out there without my good luck.”

You lean in, laugh breathily, and press a gentle kiss to his nose.

“There,” you say. “You're ready now.”

Charles closes his eyes like he’s soaking it in. “Mmh. Already feel faster.”

He opens his eyes again, lashes fluttering, and looks at you with that infuriating, devastating half-smile.

“You sure you don’t want to kiss the front wing too?” he teases. “Could use all the help we can get.”

You snort. “Tell the front wing to get its own girlfriend.”

Charles laughs, full and bright, and leans in for a quick kiss on your lips—just a brush, fleeting but grounding. Then he’s off, jogging toward the car with a kind of lightness in his step that hasn’t been there in a while.

This time, the race unfolds perfectly.

Lap after lap, Charles seems to move impossibly faster. He glides past his opponents with a practiced ease, pushes hard but stays smooth. The tires hold better than expected. The car responds like it’s alive, perfectly tuned to his every desire and move.

When the checkered flag waves, the timing screens flash his name first.

He wins.

You scream louder than anyone else in the garage. 

Later, on the podium, the crowd is roaring. Charles stands tall, champagne in hand, eyes scanning the sea of fans and cameras. Then, his gaze locks on you—your heart leaps.

With a mischievous grin, he taps the tip of his nose once—twice—then points directly at you. You're sure the internet will erupt in jokes and speculation about it later, but for now the moment is just between the two of you.

You press a kiss to your fingers and send it flying up to him.

That night, when you're wrapped in his arms and the soft hum of the city outside his bedroom window, you kiss the bridge of his nose again.

His eyes are still closed as you curl into his chest, his breath steady and slow. He holds your hand tight. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and certain.

“Don’t ever stop.”

And you won’t.

Because some things—like him—are forever.

requested by: @skz8riley (thanks for the request! i hope you enjoy!)

[cxvii666]

“DOWN WITH THE TRUMPETS”

“when i get down, i get respect now”

feat. denki k.

wc: 780

mdni 😴

“don't talk with your mouth full, it's bad manners.”

denki kaminari is a yapper.

he can talk for japan.

about nothing, and everything. about his little hobbies and interests, like the time he got really into origami for two weeks and folded fifty paper cranes before getting distracted by baking videos. about a bug he saw one time that kind of looked like pikachu if you squinted. about an anime he watched five years ago that reminded him of a tiktok he saw yesterday—actually, no, it reminded him of two tiktoks, and he’ll pull them both up even though you’re in the middle of eating.

he doesn't even realize he's doing it. he just talks.

before you started dating, he once spent two full hours explaining the entire five nights at freddy’s lore to you. he even brought a whiteboard. he drew a timeline. there were arrows, names, color-coded events. he kept glancing at you nervously, like he was waiting for you to run. you thought he was fucking psychotic, but according to all his friends that was his weak attempt at flirting.

he talks in his sleep too. full conversations. one night, around 3 a.m., he whispered, “gregory… you have to hide.” and you just laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what choices in life had led you here. he was completely out. you even poked him and he just mumbled something about “security breach.”

you didn't sleep much that night. he did.

you hear him on the phone all the time. he’s loud. his voice carries. you don’t even need to be in the same room to catch half the story. in group calls, he’s that guy—never letting anyone finish a sentence, always jumping back in because he just remembered another detail, or because he needs to relate something someone said to a completely different topic.

he narrates everything he does. it’s like living with a one-man podcast. making a sandwich? you’re getting a full tutorial with sound effects. brushing his teeth? he gives ratings to the toothpaste flavor like he’s doing a mukbang. finding a sock under the bed? live drama, complete with shocked gasps and a full backstory on how the sock ended up there.

he doesn't mean to talk so much, honestly, he can't help himself. he just… gets excited. he thinks out loud. he loves sharing things. his brain moves fast, and his mouth just tries to keep up.

"s-so sorry baby, your pussy just tastes so—mmf."

so sometimes you have to shut him up. the only way you know how.

his long eyelashes flutter against flushed cheeks, those bambi eyes of his wide and glassy as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

his fingers gripping the fat of your thighs as he drags your pussy back down onto his mouth. tongue greedy, he mouths at you like you're divine. slow, wet, sloppy kisses, tongue flicking then flattening, dipping in and out like he’s tasting something sacred. he hums against you, needy and messy and so, so fucking eager.

but as he pauses to catch his breath, you realise, he's still running his mouth.

with eyes locked onto the sticky mess he's made, his mouth is still moving, lips slick and parted as he mumbles god knows what into your pussy. eyes fixed on the mess he's made, like he's hypnotized. and the worst part? you can feel it. the vibrations, the breathy whispers, the praise he's spilling straight into your cunt. you strain to make out the words, and between the rush of blood in your ears you catch bits and pieces. "t-thank youuu, so fu-ucking good for me, you’re perfect, so warm, so wet, love you, love you, love yo—"

you roll your eyes and cut his praises short with a forceful tug of his hair. not too hard. just enough. it makes him whine into you, the sound all breath and heat, and you feel his hips twitch against the mattress. he loves it when you take control. he melts for it.

"denki, sweetie, what have i told you?" you sigh contently when his tongue starts doing circles on your clit, "no talking while you're eating."

he doesn’t answer with words—he knows better. just moans, all obedient and desperate, nodding his head so fast his blonde locs shake. sweat glistens on his forehead, some strands of hair sticking to it. you brush them away gently, and his amber eyes snap up to meet yours.

they're wide. glassy. brimming with devotion.

he's docile, pliable. he listens, does what he's told.

and for now, he's quiet.

but you'll keep him here until he's learnt his lesson.

[pittsick]

summary: Spencer is overwhelmed by work until a fellow BAU agent and close friend takes him out to unwind, leading to laughter, confessions, and a sweet first kiss. What begins as a casual night at the pub becomes the start of something much more.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader.

cw: 1.4k words. workplace stress, emotional exhaustion, and gentle romantic tension. fluff, mutual pining, hand-holding, first kiss between coworkers.

taglist: @blastzachilles @lvve-talks @jordiemeow @strfallz @222col @soulxinxthexsky @diyasgarden @jinxedbambi @lexiiscorect @religionlost @bluestrd @jclolz22 @magicalmiserybore @destinedtobegigi @fwaist @talsorchard @lovefaist @shahabaqsa0310 @prismozo @jesuistrestriste

Quantico's fluorescent lights were unforgiving. They hummed above Spencer’s head as he sat at his desk, hunched over a mountain of paperwork. His brow furrowed, eyes scanning line after line of typed reports with a mechanical rhythm. The rest of the bullpen had quieted down for the day, the team's chatter replaced by the soft buzz of computers and distant footsteps.

You watched him from across the room, your own desk long abandoned. You’d finished your reports hours ago, but something kept you hanging around. Well—someone.

Spencer hadn’t moved in over an hour. He pushed his glasses up his nose, muttering something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch. You stood, stretching, and crossed the room with soft footsteps.

“You know it’s past nine, right?” you said gently, leaning on the edge of his desk.

Spencer startled slightly, blinking up at you as though coming out of a daze. “Is it really?”

You nodded. “You’ve been working all day. Didn’t even stop for dinner. Are you trying to burn out?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s a lot to get through. I figured if I could finish tonight, tomorrow could be… easier.”

You tilted your head at him, heart tugging a little. His tie was loose, shirt wrinkled, and the bags under his eyes had gotten darker over the last few weeks. The last case had been rough—gruesome, personal. You’d all felt it, but Spencer had taken it especially hard.

“You’re not a robot, Spence,” you said. “You’re allowed to unplug. In fact, I think I’m making it my personal mission to help you do that tonight.”

He blinked again. “What do you mean?”

You grinned. “I’m taking you out. Pub down the road. Dart boards. Fries. Maybe even karaoke, if I can talk you into it.”

His lips quirked in amusement. “Karaoke?”

“Yep. Non-negotiable. You need a reset. Come on, it'll be fun.”

Spencer hesitated, fiddling with his pen. He didn’t like loud places or unfamiliar environments. But then you smiled at him again—bright and encouraging, and somehow soft just for him—and that did something he couldn’t quite explain.

“…Okay,” he said, quietly.

You beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah. Okay. Just let me grab my coat.”

The pub you picked was small, warm, and comfortably noisy—not too packed, but alive with the kind of background chatter that gave the illusion of anonymity. A local band was playing soft indie rock in the corner. It was a place you knew he might tolerate, with dim lighting and rustic wooden beams, and a dartboard tucked away in the back.

Spencer looked around cautiously as you slid into a booth with two beers in hand.

“I promise,” you said, pushing one toward him, “no drunk singing unless you want to.”

“I don’t drink much,” he said, inspecting the beer. “I know. Just sip. We’re here to de-stress, not get wild.”

He gave you a sheepish half-smile. “Thanks for dragging me out.”

“You needed it.”

He took a sip and let the cool bitterness ground him. For a moment, you both just sat there, watching the room. Then he glanced sideways at you. “You… always know what I need.”

You looked over at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. “Well, you’re kind of easy to read. When you look like you haven’t slept in three days, that’s my cue.”

He laughed—a real, warm laugh that made your chest swell. “I’m that obvious?”

“Only to me,” you teased.

He didn’t say anything at first, but he didn’t look away either. His gaze lingered on you—on the curve of your smile, the gentle way you leaned toward him when you spoke. You’d been friends since you joined the BAU, and somewhere along the line, that friendship had tangled into something messier in his chest.

Something he didn’t know how to say out loud.

“Hey,” you nudged his knee under the table. “Don’t go all introspective on me now. You’re out. You're relaxing. Let yourself have a little fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, a bit too quickly. You raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s see it. Darts?” He gave you a doubtful look. “You’ll destroy me.”

“I’m counting on it.”

You weren’t lying—you did destroy him. But he didn’t mind.

You laughed with every bullseye, tossing back your hair and pointing at his stunned expression. Spencer was terrible at darts, but he played anyway, content to watch you smile and tease him. You didn’t make fun—just poked, prodded, kept things light. Kept him laughing.

At one point, between throws, you leaned close and whispered, “You look better when you’re not worrying.” He turned red, flustered, and missed the board completely on his next turn.

You cackled and high-fived a stranger nearby, and Spencer just buried his face in his hands. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance, Doc.”

But underneath the jokes, you were watching him, too. Noticing how the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. How his shoulders sat a little lower. You liked seeing him like this—unguarded, laughing, a little shy.

He didn’t notice you staring. Or maybe… he did.

An hour later, you were back in the booth, sharing a plate of greasy fries. Your knees were touching under the table now, and neither of you moved away.

“You know,” you said, chewing thoughtfully, “for someone who’s got three PhDs and an IQ higher than my rent, you’re really bad at darts.” Spencer wiped his hands on a napkin. “There’s very little overlap between deductive reasoning and hand-eye coordination.”

“Still. Very disappointing. I thought you’d be my secret weapon in bar games.”

“I’m good at trivia,” he offered, trying to salvage some dignity.

“Oh yeah?” you grinned. “Then riddle me this, genius: why haven’t you asked me out yet?”

You meant it as a joke—a harmless little tease to keep the mood light—but the color drained from his face. Spencer froze, eyes wide behind his glasses. “What?”

You blinked, suddenly uncertain. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird, I was just—”

“No, no,” he rushed, waving his hands. “It’s not weird. I just… I didn’t know you… noticed.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve got the biggest crush face I’ve ever seen, Spence. I figured it out months ago.” He looked like he might combust. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to—make you uncomfortable. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

“You didn’t,” you said softly.

He blinked.

You smiled again, gentler this time. “It’s kind of sweet, actually. Watching you fumble over coffee orders when I’m around. The way you always sit next to me on the jet, but never too close.”

His voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Your heart fluttered. “Well, I do.”

There was a long pause—full of new tension, not quite awkward, just fragile. Spencer sat very still. “What happens now?” You slid your hand across the table, lacing your fingers with his.

“That depends,” you said, voice low. “Do you want to go on a date with me, Doctor Reid?”

He stared at your hand in his, then looked up, and you saw something melt behind his eyes. The tension that had lived there for years—fear of rejection, the need to always be in control—slipped away.

“Yes,” he said, quietly but firmly. “I really do.”

It was late when you stepped outside, the chill of night brushing your skin. The sky above was soft and dark, stars peeking between clouds. You stood beside him on the sidewalk, hand still tucked into his like it belonged there.

Spencer was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet now. Comfortable. Sweet. “You did good tonight,” you said. “Actually had fun.” He smiled. “I did. Because of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He turned toward you, eyes bright behind his glasses. “I’m really lucky you noticed me.”

“I always noticed you, Spence,” you whispered.

And then you leaned in and kissed him. It was soft—brief—just your mouth on his, warm and sure. You pulled away before he could even process it fully. His face was pink, his smile dazed.

You nudged his side. “Walk me to my car, genius?”

He nodded, still smiling, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As you walked together under the soft glow of streetlamps, Spencer thought that maybe—just maybe—life wasn’t so heavy with you beside him.

[humpster35]

Dilf!Matt x BabySitter!Reader

|Mentions of infidelity, pregnancy, age gap, unprotected sex, swearing, fluff, slight yelling and anxiety

Matt’s foot anxiously tapped the floor, the sound echoing across the house. He had never felt so scared in his life. This part always got to him, the waiting. So with a sigh and fixing of his hat, Matt knocked on the bathroom door.

“Y/n. You done yet?” Matt’s country accent reached the girls ears. They pulled her out of her mind as she stared at the tiny lines.

She was pregnant. Y/n had got gotten pregnant by a man with a family already. The door knob twisted and she didn’t even hear Matt walk in until he was standing right behind her. His belt buckle grazing the curve of her upper back, as Matt leaned into her.

“Y/n. Don’t panic baby.” Matt spoke in a cooing voice while putting his hand on her waist. He knew the consequences of his actions and felt proud that he actually accomplished his goal.

“Don’t panic? Matt you have a wife. AND A FUCKING FIVE YEAR OLD-.” Y/n’s frustrated voice felt like a dagger in Matt’s heart. He thought she wanted this as much as he did. So he took a step back and rested his hands on his hips.

“Alright now sweetheart. No need to yell, i’m right here with ya.”

Y/n sniffled as she looked into Matt’s eyes.

“If you would cheat on her, you’d do the same thing to me. So tell me Matt.—Why shouldn’t I get rid of it?”

Matt didn’t have a response for that. He knew that it was just supposed to be a one time thing, one night he got into an argument with his wife and just wanted to get back at her. Along the way though, he ended up actually falling in love with y/n.

Y/n handed him the test and quickly wiped her eyes as Matt’s son Liam toddled in. He was holding up a coloring book showing her that he had finished the page like she asked.

“Good job little man.” Y/n dryly chuckled as she picked him up, leaving the bathroom and Matt in it.

Matt stood there lost in his own thoughts. Y/n was 19, and he was 25. He never even initiated the flirting. She would walk around the house in a short skirt, purposefully bending over in front of him with fuck me eyes. Matt only ever gave in once he got drunk after the argument he had earlier. Y/n knew what she was doing, she just wanted to try out an older man.

Her friends always bragged about how they’re so much better and seeing as Matt’s wife is mainly working overtime, she took the opportunity. They had a great bond in the beginning. From the moment Y/n walked through those doors, Liam would rush to her arms and cause Matt to laugh.

There was one instance on when Y/n was giving little Liam a bath and he called her mom. This only made her sad for the kid, he needed his mom. Matt overheard this when Y/n thought he was still working on the farm, it just solidified even more that the feelings he was feelings weren’t just because of the sex. His own son saw how much of a joy and light Y/n brought into their once dull home.

“Y/n, you should keep it.” Matt walked out into the living room.

Y/n was helping Liam color as the toddler sat on her lap. She only ignored Matt though, the lump in her throat was building and she wasn’t sure if she could hold back for much longer.

Matt sat down next to them and pinched Liam’s little face. He stroked the back of Y/n’s head which made his son smile playfully. This was normal for them. Y/n didn’t move away from him, she actually craved his touch. It always made her feel something.

“Alright Li, you ready for lunch?” Y/n said while carrying him to his high chair.

“Once you’re done with that, c’mere darling.” Matt stuck a toothpick in his mouth and tilted his cowboy hat in her direction.

Y/n nodded and after fixing Liam his favorite snack, a pb&j with apple slices and a juice box, she let Matt take her hand and lead her to the side room. Matt’s hand felt rough and dry from all the work he does outside, but y/n has always liked it.

“Sit down, we’re gone talk about this and what you are deciding to do little lady.” Matt spoke sternly. He knew that he couldn’t pressure her to keep a baby she may didn’t even want, nor would he ever. He watched as y/n sat down, she wore overalls and a white tank top.

“Wheeewww you sure know how to make a cowboy sing.”

Y/n blushed and flipped her hair to the side. She grabbed Matt by his belt buckle to pull him closer. His hands immediately went on her head as he held her.

“Matt i’m just scared. You are still legally married, even if you say you love me.”

Matt took some of her hair in his hand and squeezed it lightly. Y/n knew that she wasn’t just the only nervous one here.

“If you divorce her then what happens to little Liam?”

“We can get that situated.”

“What if she takes him with her Matt? I don’t want that to happen.”

Matt smiled softly and kissed the top of y/n’a head. He knew that at this point, Liam was sort of already hers.

“I’ll never let her take Liam away from us.” He placed his hand on y/n’s stomach as she started crying.

“Not when he’s got a sibling on the way.”

Y/n looked up at Matt with teary eyes. It was like him saying that only made the reality real for her.

“Oh Matt.”

Matt chuckled and leaned down to kiss her lips softly. It was endearing, the soft movement of his tongue swiping across the bottom of y/n’s bottom lip as he started to suck on her tongue. Y/n let out a moan, the intensity of the kiss made her fall back onto the bed and Matt climbed on top of her.

Y/n felt as Matt’s fingers unhooked the overall straps. She didn’t wear a bra with the tank top because she knew that’s what he liked. The feeling of his rough hands grabbing at her soft flesh, made her feel guilt for how not guilty she felt about this whole thing. Matt knew her. He knew her body and, Y/n didn’t want his wife to feel what she feeling anymore. She did want Matt all to herself and maybe this baby could make that a reality for her.

“Can’t do anything more today sweet pea.” Matt lifted his hat a bit as he smirked down at y/n. His son was in the other room and almost done with his food by now. So he got up and adjusted his pants, and dick, while y/n sat up flustered.

Y/n laughed a bit while fixing her hair.

“That’s how we got into this mess!” Matt laughed heartily while holding his stomach and placed a kiss to Y/n’s cheek.

“Y’right. Cmon let’s head on back now darling.” Matt smacked Y/n’s ass on the way back to the kitchen.

Little Liam was smiling at the girl as he held an apple slice in his chubby fingers. His face was flustered as he eagerly reached for Y/n.

“Mommy!” Liam giggled into Y/n’s chest as she picked him up.

“Now what has happened here little man? Hm?”

Matt walked in after making sure his dick was tucked properly. He took off his cowboy hat and put it on Y/n’s head.

“Aw that’s right. Liam, your mommy here is a good rider.” Matt shot a smirk to Y/n.

“Now now now, don’t be going and believing your daddy Li. Cmon you wanna take a bath?”

Liam cheered and he took the hat off Y/n’s head, the boy failed to successfully wear it though, due to his head being much smaller. The couple laughed and Matt took Liam from Y/n.

“You go and get some rest now hear? That baby’s gonna be wearing your lassie down.” Matt’s voice was husky and deep. His country accent always made Y/n’s pussy wet.

She nodded and left her overall straps down. With her bare tits just barely being covered by a white tank top, Matt felt himself hardening again and he rushed out of the room.

tag list:

@mattsweethart @mattspillowprincess @riggysworld @regulaho @passionfruitchris @eeyoresturnz @eyesonmattyb @chrissonnyangel @bluestriips @billieslittlecumslut @dolliraez @nickssidewitch @salaciousxsturniolo

[kgetou]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ back shots while studying ! yeon sieun headcanon⭑.ᐟ

warnings: mdni needed, +18, yeon sieun x fem reader, reader receives backshots while yeon sieun study in her back, characters are over 18, english its not my first language, lower case on purpose, soft smut.

who would have thought that the need would eat you entirely when you see your boyfriend studying concentrated.

the need to have him inside of you was getting bigger and bigger, and the evidence of your panties were wet by your own essence.

but you couldn't bother your boyfriend, not when he was so focused for the next day's exam.

"sieun" you murmured waiting for him to turn to look at you, when he did your mind went blank. you didn't know how to explain to him how needy and wet you were just for the simple fact that he hadn't touched you for weeks.

but you knew it was like that, since he is number #1 in his class.

but you didn't know that after a few minutes you would find yourself bouncing on his cock, needily while he concentrated on marking your back with a marker.

you can feel how he do some graphs, and sometimes stop the writing to let you bouncing more harder, but you knew he was thinking.

he grip your hips, forcing you to stop, you cry out. you can feel his cock twitching inside of you while he write something more in your back.

“keep it straight” he murmur while grabbing your ribs and forcing you to keep your back straight.

you start bouncing again with shyness, knowing that your boyfriend was more focused on studying than willing to give your pussy some attention.

you whimper trying to move more faster, you wanted more, his pretty cock’s tip was touching that spongy spot again and again, but he was more concentrated on finding the result of the formula on your back.

“s-sieun please-” he shush you calming you down “i’m almost finish” he said proudly writing the last numbers of the equation.

“now, move y/n” he said resting one of his hands behind his back while the other was on your hips, guiding you.

you obeyed, bouncing hard, hearing his soft moans that sound more like heavy breaths. your pussy was clenching his cock, the squelching sound of it echoing in the room together with your loud moans

“i-i’m coming” you manage to say, accelerating your speed, bouncing back and forth much quicker. a loud moan comes out of your pretty lips, while your pussy squirm around his cock, you didn’t even notice that you milk him.

when he hugs you kissing your neck from behind getting his cock out, you notice the amount of cum that gush out of your pussy.

the next day your pretty boyfriend come back home, showing you his 100%. a new method for him to study.

like for more like this, reblog if you want be part of the permanent taglist.

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[firelilyfox]

In your skin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: After a mission the two of you have to share a room & at first Bucky gets really mad about it but ... he means well.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: mention of trauma, weapons, sharing a bed, fluff, heart to heart talk, real sad Bucky

Note: english isn't my mother tongue so sorry in advance :)

____________________________________

It got late real fast after the successful mission in Nairobi. 

The African heat gave way to the cool night, making it way more pleasant to find some sleep soon. Part of the Thunderbolts found shelter in a luxury hotel in the middle of the lively city, but there were almost fully booked so the only two rooms left had to be evenly shared. Yelena, Alexei, Bucky and me. 

„I will not let my daughter sleep in a room with another man“, Alexei barked. „No offense Winter Soldier, I have deeply respect for you. But my daughter will be protected from you manly charme by myself.“ His strong russian accent marking the importance of his protectiveness about Yelena. 

„Alexei I’m a grown woman and can protect myself from stupid men“ Yelena says unimpressed. The four of us were standing in the empty hallway, on each side a closed door and fitting keycards in my hands. I look at them and then up at Bucky. He was easily two heads taller than me with a strong disapproval look on his face, but he kept quiet. He was always the quiet one of the group (besides one or two snarky comments from time to time). „You can sleep with him then if you want“, Yelena adds. 

„Don’t be ridiculous. I will not let you out of my sight with this nasty wound. You are my daughter and I will protect-…“ but Alexei couldn’t finish the sentence because Yelena shut his mouth with her own hand. 

„Got it old man. So its the two of us and the two of you then.“ She pointed at me and at Bucky afterwards. I opened my mouth for approval but got interrupted immediately. 

„No fucking way“, Bucky grumbles.  

Okay. Ouch. That was unnecessary and a bit rude. 

Even the farther-daughter duo frowned in confusion. It was true that Bucky and had a …complicated way of acting around each other for the last couple of months. At first I thought we would be good co-workers. He always kept an eye out for me when I started to train with the Thunderbolts because I didn’t knew my way around and had a tendency to stumble into very unfortunate situations. For example that one time in Norway … ugh I rather not think about that. Nonetheless with time passing by he had become more like … a friend I think. Bucky was always there if I needed him - but never too close. Even a little part of me, that I desperately try to suffocate, wants him to be just … closer sometimes. 

„Do I get to tell my opinion in this?“ I ask a bit annoyed by his sudden rudeness. „I have no problem to stay with you in a room.“ He shoots me a deadly look but that doesn’t scare me off. Not the tiniest bit. No clue what his problem his, but I won’t let him push me away like that. If he has something to say, then he can tell me whilst sharing a god damn room. 

„Great! Its settled then. You two get to - ...“ 

„This isn’t an option“, Bucky interrupts Alexei again and this time he almost exploded. His voice had a much deeper and darker ring to it now. But it didn’t made me flinch. It made me mad. 

„Why does everybody interrupts Alexei all the ti-…“ 

„Well I don’t care. Here.“ I handed Yelena and her father one keycard and kept the other one for Bucky and myself. „I’m done with this conversation. Get in here.“ I tell him and opened the door with a soft clicking sound. 

„Have a pleasant night“, Yelena chuckles and disappeared with Alexei in the room across the hallway. Bucky stands still as a stone without any muscle moving. My rage was overflood by hurt. Was it really that awful to share a room with me?  

„I have no idea why its such a problem for you to stay in a room with me. If it’s because I am a woman then I can assure you it’s more than common in this century for a man and a woman to …“ 

„It’s not because of that. I shared a room with a woman before.“ He says and stepped around me into the hotel room. Paying close attention to our arms not touching by accident. 

I closed the door behind me. „Well good for you I guess.“ A little stab of jealousy hit me. „But if it aint that then why -…“ 

„We should get some sleep.“ And just like that there was another sentence that won’t be finished this evening. Great fucking fun. 

We got changed into our nightgowns and by that i mean that Bucky was still wearing his black shirt and boxer. While i got rid of almost every piece of clothing. In my underwear and a simple tanktop I sat down on the bed beside him. His metal arm flexing a few times he looked lost in thoughts. 

„How does it feel?“ I ask before I could stop myself. 

He frowns. „What do you mean?“ 

„I mean do you really feel everything? Like heat when you burn yourself while cooking or the fabric of a blanket?“ No clue why I was bubbling with stupid questions like that out of the blue. Might be the sight of him in boxers that fried my brain a little bit. I’m thankful he isn’t a mindreader. 

A soft smile lays down on his lips. The first since we entered this room. „Yeah. In Wakanda they have some very advanced techniques and great minds who work on stuff like that. I have not the slightest idea how this works.“ He holds his metal hand with the palm up and looks at me. „But it works.“ 

Without any thoughts I lay my hand in his. I expected the metal to be cold and hard. But somehow it felt warm and … real. Like it is more than just a piece of dead materiel. I moved my fingers along the palm and up to his wrist. It was formed exactly like his other arm. Strong and even the muscles were mirrored to the tiniest detail. Something comes over me and out of pure curiosity my other hand finds his real arm to compare the two of them. 

For a moment Bucky stayed completely still. He was not moving at all and I doubt that he was even breathing normal anymore. „Does it feel the same?“ 

He cleared his throat. „No.“ 

„What’s the difference?“ I look up and almost drown in his blue eyes. His face must’ve come closer. Or did I move in his direction? I don’t recall. All I know is that his nose was only inches away from mine, wich means that his lips were… 

„You should get some sleep. Now.“ Bucky rumbles with a husky voice. Within a second he stood up from the bed and moved to the other side of the room. 

There it was. The hurt from before hits me like a truck. 

„You really find me that repulsive?“ 

He opened his mouth. Stopped. Closed it and opened it again. All without saying a single word. Understood. „Will you come back?“ I ask instead. 

He has one hand on the doorknob. „Yes. When you are asleep.“ 

And so I did. I cried myself into a dreamless sleep. Drowning in my own self-pity because the guy I like would rather run away in the middle of the night, than share a bed with me. 

A bright crack tore me out of my slumber and I was wide awake in the matter of seconds. But not because of the thunderstorm outside the window. My fingers were curled around something cold and hard. The silhouette of Bucky was calmly sleeping beside me. My senses knew the feeling of this heavy metal and it wasn’t the arm I felt earlier tonight. 

It was a gun. 

A fucking gun in my hand. 

What? 

„Bucky?“, I whisper. „Bucky wake up!“ My voice pitched high, wich made him wake up instantly. 

„What is it? What happened?“ He asks breathlessly, eyes wide in shock, head snapping from side to side to make out any danger. But the only thing what would fall in that category appeared magically in my hand while I was asleep. 

I hold the gun up and waved it slightly. „Hello? Why do i have your gun in my hand?“ 

„Why are you so certain it’s mine, doll?“ His eyes narrow. I try to pull myself together because I didn’t expect him to call me by his pet name for me. He only used it a couple of times before and only when we were alone. 

„Oh please Bucky! I know your guns by heart. So why is it in this god damn bed?“ I shriek. 

He broke the eye contact and shuffled himself into a sitting position. The thin blanket that we both shared shifted down to his lap. Bucky leaned his back against the headboard and let out a deep sigh. „Just in case.“ 

„I beg you pardon?“ 

„Just in case you need it.“ He still has his eyes closed but I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. 

„James Buchanan Barnes you better cut that shitshow and tell me why you put that thing in my hand“, I say as I sit up, not caring that the blanket completely vanished from my body. 

Bucky turned to finally look at me. His expression were serious at first, but then his eyes dart down to my naked legs and at the waistband of my top that slipped up a bit, showing a small gap of my hips and stomach. I could swear to see his throat move as if he had to swallow … hard. And his face transformed from serious to something much more intense. Was it longing or am I now completely loosing my mind? 

„You are the only person I allow to call me like that“, he says with a tight voice. 

„Cut the crap. Now.“ 

Bucky sighs again. „Fuck. Okay fine. The gun is for emergency. In case you have to take me out.“ 

My heart stops beating for a painfully moment. With widened eyes I look at him. He sits there looking so broken, so serious about what he just confessed to me. His sad sad blue eyes studying me, waiting for a response. I know what his reasons are. He has terrible nightmares. Bad ones from his past and even darker ones made from his guilt. 

„The fuck I will.“ With two quick moves I dissemble the gun in its individual parts. Bucky watches me with disbelieve in his eyes. „I refuse to let you think I would ever do that.“ 

„Maybe you will not have a choice when it becomes bad!“ He tries to grab the metal pieces but I throw them away without a second thought. „When the Winter Soldier takes over I can’t guarantee for anything. He could do …“ 

„I don’t give a shit!“ I bark. „You would never hurt me. I know that in my bones.“ 

He lets his hand sink and land on my knee. It needs a lot of self control to not follow it with my eyes. „You’re right. I would never. But he could.“ 

I lean forward, just a little to make my point clear. „I trust you.“ 

„You shouldn’t.“ His voice was nothing more than a whisper. I could feel it brushing over my cheeks. „I’m a threat.“ 

I cock my head to the side. „Is that the reason why you didn’t want to share a room with me? Because you were scared that you might attack me in your sleep?“ 

He nods. And my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. His hair falls in strains into his face making him look even more exhausted than ever. I've come to thinking about the fact that his mind had to be constantly in stay alert mode. 

„Do you ever let yourself catch a break, Bucky?“ 

At first he stays completely still. Then a deep, tired sigh. And when he finally looks up to answer he da the saddest smile on his face that I’ve ever laid eyes on. „I don’t think so, doll. Can’t remember.“ 

I reach forward to place my palm above his heart. It beats slow but a little uneven - as if my touch had an effect on him too. „You deserve to feel safe for at least one night. You deserve so much more than that.“ I leaned in his direction, let my body sink against his and gave him the chance to slowly get used to so much skin to skin contact. But he didn’t hesitate as I thought he would do. Instead Bucky pulled me so close that I imagined to morph fully into him. Melt together and finally feel complete. 

His metal arm laid wrapped around me and gave me the support I needed. His other hand placed at the back of my head - fingers tangled up into my hair. I feel his body relax beneath me and a little smile appeared on my lips. 

„Nothing I could do would ever made me deserve you, doll.“ His words rushed my system like a big tidal wave and i shook my head up from his chest to look at him. 

„You don’t have to do anything. Bucky you already own my heart. And you truly deserve it.“ 

He smiled softly. I could feel his hand on my head pulling me closer up to him. I obey happily. „I will take good care of it, doll. I promise to be worthy for you.“ 

„I know because you already are.“ 

Bucky kissed me. His lips were touching mine with such softness I almost cried. Hands so tender and carefully holding me while his mouth claiming my whole consciousness. I leaned into him to feel as much of him as I could. He deepened the kiss and I let out a sigh of relief. I swear I could feel him smile against my lips.

I know I will never get tired of this. Ever. 

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around. 

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself. 

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice. 

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language. 

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair. 

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead. 

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside. 

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened. 

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day. 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day. 

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!” 

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out. 

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. 

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.” 

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up. 

“You think you can scare me?” 

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you. 

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.” 

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up? 

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him. 

And you did. 

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend. 

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option. 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?” 

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!” 

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip. 

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes. 

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam. 

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?” 

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.” 

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again. 

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous. 

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything. 

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.” 

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.” 

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again. 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.” 

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.” 

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?” 

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. 

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?” 

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.” 

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?” 

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.” 

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?” 

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?” 

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.” 

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid. 

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.” 

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side. 

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s. 

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it? 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?” 

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind. 

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her. 

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead. 

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?” 

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…” 

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin. 

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off. 

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights. 

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more. 

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.” 

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” 

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. 

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly. 

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble. 

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game. 

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. 

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go. 

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked. 

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair. 

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.” 

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them. 

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” 

“Okay, stop calling them that.” 

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.” 

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.” 

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.” 

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat. 

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” 

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.” 

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself. 

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.” 

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.” 

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you. 

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. 

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes. 

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him. 

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften. 

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line. 

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. 

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke. 

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?” 

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory. 

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke. 

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?” 

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible. 

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.” 

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?” 

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.” 

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. 

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. 

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.” 

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second. 

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible. 

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.” 

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot. 

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car. 

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine. 

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good. 

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” 

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it. 

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–” 

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can. 

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.” 

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly. 

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side. 

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head. 

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!” 

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night. 

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together. 

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?” 

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible. 

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it? 

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.” 

“And are you now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?” 

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else. 

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.” 

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you. 

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.” 

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.” 

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him. 

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.” 

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.” 

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” 

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. 

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess. 

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words. 

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– 

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way. 

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?” 

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.” 

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat. 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.” 

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good. 

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes. 

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.” 

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.” 

“What?” 

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains. 

“What is it about?” 

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit. 

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.” 

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it. 

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything. 

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.” 

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream. 

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of. 

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now. 

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing. 

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning. 

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies. 

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. 

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you. 

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. 

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?” 

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” 

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” 

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream. 

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours. 

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend. 

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.” 

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.” 

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again. 

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up. 

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling. 

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone. 

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.” 

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end. 

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. 

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.” 

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.” 

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option. 

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for. 

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.” 

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of. 

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love. 

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.” 

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart. 

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table. 

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?” 

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could. 

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–” 

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.” 

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him. 

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you. 

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it. 

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue. 

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.” 

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day. 

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him. 

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

“Megumi, obviously.” 

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.” 

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing. 

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now. 

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

 “All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen. 

“Why would I have a problem with anything?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case. 

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.” 

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you. 

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything. 

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.” 

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.” 

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute. 

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am. 

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing. 

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario. 

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent. 

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves. 

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly. 

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room. 

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling. 

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?” 

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.” 

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you. 

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode. 

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants. 

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well. 

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?” 

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body. 

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…” 

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot. 

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth. 

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you. 

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.” 

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface. 

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary. 

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you. 

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.” 

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?” 

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.” 

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?” 

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room. 

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.” 

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips. 

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough. 

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.” 

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper. 

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.” 

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now. 

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun. 

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately. 

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.” 

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable. 

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these. 

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile. 

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well. 

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before. 

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief. 

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. 

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself. 

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing. 

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?” 

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck. 

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could. 

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body. 

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple. 

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts. 

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.” 

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago. 

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose. 

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so? 

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure. 

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously. 

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else? 

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that? 

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions. 

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom. 

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor. 

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding. 

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving. 

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.  

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good. 

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so. 

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

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[asoftsighh]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

eddie paints your nails

770 words

By the time Eddie gets around to painting your second hand, your first is completely dry where it rests on his jean-clad thigh.

Painting your fingernails had seemed like a good idea at first after you found old polish in your room. With nothing better to do today, a Saturday, you had sat down on the couch and immediately gotten to work. Then Eddie started declaring how “pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do any hard work,” and here you are. 

Watching his face is distracting you from your impatience, anyway; the way his tongue sticks out a little between his teeth, his hair tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. With the way he’s hunching over your hand, you can just start to see the edges of his tattoos on his collarbone.

“Like what you see?” he asks. His voice is low, almost like if he were to talk any louder, it would ruin his concentration. His hand is gentle where he holds it steady, his other beginning to apply the polish to your pointer finger. 

“Shut up.” You’re smiling anyway, unsure of whether you already were in the first place. You’ve found that you usually are when Eddie is around there. 

He huffs, like he wants to say something more but currently can’t. 

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as he moves on to your middle finger. 

He glances up at you curiously, then back down. His thumb rubs a line against the back of your hand. “You know you can, baby.” His quick movements cause some hair to escape its loose hold, falling in front of his face. He blows at it passively. 

You tuck his hair back before it can truly bother him, with the already-dried hand. Your hand lingers on the side of his face, index finger tracing the line of his jaw before falling back down. Your finger has barely left the edge of his jaw before Eddie sighs, loud and theatrical, like a pivotal moment of his life just occurred. 

You giggle before you can help it. Completely forgetting what you were about to say, you ask “What was that for?”

He doesn’t say anything until he’s finished with your pinkie, then lifts your hand up to the light to admire his work. He hums in approval, still cradling your hand like it’s glass, something delicate. He brushes his lips atop your knuckles and the inside of your index. When your hand (and still-wet fingernails) are safely in your lap, he gives you a strange look, one that you know very well: the why-are-you-so-far-away? look.

“I sighed-” he starts, hand finding your waist and giving it a tug, “-because you are so far away. Don’t I deserve a kiss for painting your nails?” Before you can move closer, he takes matters in his own hands, pulling you across the foot of space between you. Your thighs straddle his, and you press your hands flatly into his shoulders, trying not to smudge your nails. 

The smile he gives you is wide, practically beaming. “Well hello there, gorgeous.” His lips are warm, and slightly chapped, on the underside of your jaw. His hands are even warmer against your back. 

“Hello.” You tip your head back, his hands giving your waist a squeeze of thanks. His lips travel down the side of your neck, the kisses chaste. “Don’t make me mess up my nails.”

His chuckle tickles the skin of your neck, his face coming out of your neck to look up at you. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He tugs you closer until you can feel his chest rising and expanding with each breath. “What were you gonna ask?”

It takes a few moments to remember; it doesn’t help that his hand has started to rub circles onto your back. 

“Oh, would you let me paint your nails?”

His brows raise, like he wasn’t expecting that. “That’s what you were gonna ask me?”

You smile sheepishly down at him. “It’s a serious question, Munson.”

He hums, thinking, his hand not stopping his ministrations. “Hm, do you have any black?”

Your cheek presses into your shoulder, thinking. “Well, no. But we can go get some.”

He leans forward, nose brushing against yours as you straighten out. “It has to be black, though. I have to keep up my metal head rep.”

It’s hard to stop the roll of your eyes. “Does that reputation include painting your girlfriend’s nails? Doesn’t sound very metal to me.”

"Tell no one. I've got an image to uphold, sweetheart."

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆

[browneyebby]

༉‧₊˚. “ greenlight “ by tate mcrae — (fem) prissy!reader x d.w

“ two chains hangin’ off your neck when you kiss me,

so strange, who’d’ve thought we’d get here with our history? “

( cw: kissing/making out, cussing, brief mention of prostitution (joke tho lol))

god, you were such a soc. your room was covered in piles of delicate clothes and lace, the walls were painted a gorgeous light pink, and you had a fresh bouquet of flowers ever time dallas would come visit (which was very often). so dally finds himself wondering every now and then how he even likes you. you were against everything he stood for, you were so prissy compared to a rugged man like him. but our dallas winston did always seem to have a soft spot for pretty soc girls, didn’t he?

he remembers why he likes you in moments like this — when you’re underneath him, and his pink lips are on yours. your freshly-done hair is getting ruined as you lie against the pillow, manicured hands in his greasy hair. he adores having you like this, he adores infiltrating your spoiled and feminine life. he feels like such an outcast in your world, but he likes it that way. he likes being stared at by judgemental kooks and greasers alike, wondering how someone like you ended up with someone like him. he loves the attention, and it’s all worth it when he gets to hear your voice whimper out a “dal,” whenever he bites your lower lip too hard.

his forearms rest on either side of your pretty face, viens buldging in the most sexy way possible as he cages you under him. “god, you’re fuckin’ perfect, aren’t ya?” he drawls quietly as he kisses your cheek.

you giggle, often having reactions like that when he compliments you. “i know,” you say back, going to capture his lips again with a peck.

“yeah, trust me doll, i know you know,” he says after you kiss him, his brown eyes looking down at you, and his perfect mouth shaped into a breathless half-smile. “silly soc,” he mutters, moving to lie beside you. he lifts his arm so you can go under it and rest against his side.

“dirty greaser,” you playfully say back to his quiet dig, not taking offense to his.

he scoffs and lights a cigarette, letting out a breathy chuckle to your comment before taking a hit. he’s quiet for a bit as he does so, and when he’s finished after a few seconds, he speaks again. “you know,” he starts, clearing his throat from the smoke. “we’re not even meant to be dating, a’ight? least y’could do is be nice to be, sweetcheeks,”

you roll your eyes but keep your smile. “oh please, give me a break,” you say. “you’re not nice either. so you could do the same, and put out that cigarette in my room to start the process. told you so many times i don’t want it to smell like smoke in here,”

“fuck nah,” he puts it in between his teeth again. “c’mon doll, if you’re datin’ a greaser then you gotta accept our culture,”

“‘culture’ my ass, it’s an addiction, it’s not good for you,” you poke his chest. “listen to your girlfriend, dal, isn’t that the first thing darry taught you when you dated sylvia?”

“hey, sylvia was a bitch, darrel didn’t give a fuck if i was a bitch back.”

you sigh and rest your head on his chest, giving up the playful argument for now. your lips were swollen and all you wanted to do was either keep kissing him or take a nap. you fiddle with his silver st. christopher aimlessly as you speak again after a couple moments. “don’t you think it’s weird that we’re together?” you ask him.

“yeah,” he mutters, shrugging as if it’s nothing.

you pout, having expected him to say something like ‘no’ or ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’, not an immediate agreement. “what? why?”

“you know why, s’why ya asked,”

“well— i just didn’t think you’d agree so fast.” is your response.

another shrug. “c’mooon,” he drawls. “every fuckin’ idiot here knows it’s weird, so it would be sad if i didn’t. you’re a spoiled soc, and i’m a greaser. one o’the bad ones, too, i’m not tolerated like pony or johnny,”

“…yeah, guess so. but i tolerate you,” you murmur.

“you’re a sweetheart, that’s why,” he explains his point while complimenting you.

“thanks dal,”

he takes a final hit of his cigarette, and then uses your pretty pink ciramic jewlery tray on your bedside as an ashtray as he sets it down. “now c’mere,” he changes the topic and pulls you on top of him. “think we’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we, sweetheart?” he asks, using the earlier nickname on you again.

your smile is back instantly as you nod, painted nails and pristine fingers instantly finding their way in his brown hair and on his chest. “mm, only if you buy me a milkshake after,” you tease, knowing you’ll kiss him regardless.

“god, got a prosititute of a broad, don’t i?” he’s smiling anyway, though trying to feign annoyance. “you think i’ve got the money for that?” he pokes your side playfully. “c’mon, honey, kiss your man,”

so you comply, glossy lips finding his once more. you could go without a milkshake, as long as you were with your dallas.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ taglist (comment here to be added!) : @avroravia @r0seb100d @fawning4leif @dinerlana

[mintyys-blog]

NOT ENOUGH | thragg x wife! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: neglectful relationships, verbal abuse, pregnancy, post partum depression, abuse, cheating, breeding, mention of rape (not towards reader), physical abuse

The nursery was quiet.

Too quiet, considering the baby had just finished her feeding. You gently shifted the two-month-old against your chest, her soft breath warm on your collarbone as you hummed a lullaby you weren’t sure you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter. None of it did.

Not when he hadn’t even visited this room.

Not when Thragg—the man you gave everything to—hadn’t even acknowledged your last child was born.

You moved through the hall, pausing to peek into the other rooms. The twins were playing in silence, building something with blocks. Their faces lit up briefly when they saw you in the doorway. You forced a smile for them. You always did. It was the only thing keeping their little hearts from breaking.

The oldest wasn’t playing anymore. He sat at the window, chin in hand, waiting. He thought Thragg would come this time. That maybe—just maybe—today would be the day his father spoke to him. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t going to happen.

Because you knew where he was.

You found out today.

You had gone looking through the data files while he was away. You weren’t supposed to—he made that very clear—but after weeks of silence, of aching alone with a body still bleeding and torn from birth, you deserved to know why.

Thraxans.

An entire race of insectoid beings. Enslaved. Bred. Turned into nothing more than living wombs to bear him children. And worse—it worked.

They were Viltrumite. Strong. Capable. Everything your own babies weren’t.

Everything you weren’t.

The tears came hot and fast when you saw the footage. One of the Thraxan women looked barely old enough to carry a child, yet her belly was full with what he proudly called his future empire. His words echoed in your skull, distorted and cruel:

“They’ve succeeded where my human has failed.”

Failed.

You clutched the baby tighter, your body trembling as you sat on the floor of the nursery. Your stomach was still swollen. Your breasts still sore. You’d nearly died giving birth. He hadn’t even been there.

Your love wasn’t enough. Your body wasn’t enough. Your children weren’t enough. You were just a stepping stone. A failed experiment. A warm bed and empty womb.

You sobbed quietly, so your children wouldn’t hear. You didn’t want them to carry this pain. You would take it all. Bear it all.

Because someone had to love them. It was clear he never would.

You tried once.

Late at night, when the halls were quiet and the twins were asleep in the same bed, curled into each other like they’d never known anything else but closeness. Your eldest had finally stopped waiting at the window. The baby stirred in your arms, blinking blearily at the gentle shift as you tiptoed down the corridor.

You had nothing.

No plan. No allies. Just instinct—survival. The same desperate edge that kept you alive through four pregnancies, that made you press kisses to the bruises blooming under your skin and whisper to your children, “Mama’s okay. Mama’s here.”

You stepped past the threshold of the doors. One more hallway and you’d be at the ship. You didn’t care where it went. As long as it was away.

But you should’ve known.

The moment you passed through the outer corridor, he was there.

Tall. Unmoving. His shadow stretched impossibly long across the cold floor, armor glinting in the moonlight that poured in from the windows. His red eyes flickered down to the baby in your arms, then back to your face.

“Going somewhere?”

His tone was cold. Not angry. Worse. Indifferent.

Your voice caught in your throat. You forced it out anyway.

“She doesn’t stop crying unless I walk her. That’s all I was doing.”

“You’re lying.”

Your knees nearly gave out. “You don’t—You don’t get to keep me here. You don’t even look at them. At me. What am I to you, Thragg?”

For the first time, something like annoyance flickered in his face. He stepped closer. You didn’t move.

“You are mine,” he said simply. “You gave me nothing I needed, but that doesn’t change what you are.”

“I gave you four children,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I nearly died giving you that last one.”

“And none of them were Viltrumite.”

The silence between you felt like a living thing. Your hand trembled against your daughter’s back.

“You’re… enslaving them,” you choked. “Thraxan women. Children. You’ve made an empire of—of rape and you’re proud of it.”

“They serve a purpose. They create what you could not.”

You flinched as if he struck you. And maybe he had. Not with fists. But with truth you’d known too long and never wanted to say aloud.

“They’re not you,” you said, desperate. “They don’t love you. They’re not your wife.”

“I don’t need a wife,” he said. “I need an empire.”

The child in your arms began to fuss. You bounced her gently, tears slipping soundlessly down your cheeks.

And then, Thragg stepped forward, brushing his knuckles—almost gently—down her cheek. You pulled back.

“Don’t touch her.”

His eyes snapped to yours. Red. Bright. Unblinking.

“You will not take my property,” he said, voice low.

You swallowed a sob, nodding. Slowly. Carefully. Like a prisoner realizing the cage door was never unlocked.

He turned and walked away.

And you… you went back to the nursery. Back to the children who needed you. The ones who would never fly, never fight, never be strong enough to escape this hell.

But you’d hold them anyway.

And love them harder, if only because he never would.

It started with yelling.

It always started with yelling.

Castal was used to it by now. Used to hearing his mother’s quiet voice try and fail to reach the mountain of a man she called her husband. Used to the sound of harsh words and angry footsteps, to the way she shrank even when she stood tall. He didn’t understand all of it, but he knew enough.

He knew his mother cried after.

And this time, he was old enough to see it.

He was on his way to ask her about a broken toy when he heard Thragg’s voice—cold, furious, like thunder cracking too close to the house. The door was half-open. He peeked in.

“Useless emotions. You shame yourself with them.”

“I gave you everything!” she shouted back. “You used me, and now you don’t even care if I live or die—”

“You exist because I allow it. Don’t forget your place, human.”

His mother’s breath hitched.

That was all it took.

“HEY!!”

Thragg turned his head sharply at the sound. Standing there in the doorway was Castal—barefoot, small fists clenched, chest heaving. His eyes were glassy with tears, but his jaw was set.

Thragg barely registered him.

Until the boy ran forward and punched him in the side.

It felt like hitting a steel wall. The crack should have shattered the boy’s hand, but instead—Thragg paused.

He grabbed the child by the wrist and lifted him effortlessly off the ground, the boy kicking wildly.

“LET GO!” Castal screamed. “Put me down! Put me—!”

With a burst of speed, Thragg shot into the sky, dragging his son behind like a ragdoll. The wind howled in Castal’s ears as the ground vanished beneath him. The cold of the upper atmosphere bit into his skin, and his mother’s screams faded into the distance.

He twisted to look down. She was on her knees, hands reaching toward the sky. Crying again.

You made her cry. You always make her cry…

Tears stung Castal’s eyes. He clenched his jaw and threw another punch. It landed against his father’s armor and did nothing—but he didn’t stop.

“You don’t even care! She loves you and you make her cry every day!”

Thragg didn’t answer.

He just let go.

Castal fell like a stone.

The scream tore from his lungs as the wind rushed past him, pressure and fear and cold tearing at his tiny body. His limbs flailed, his chest heaved—

And then—everything stopped.

He floated.

He blinked, arms spread, weightless. The air still rushed past, but he wasn’t falling anymore. He looked down. He was hovering above the clouds.

“I…” he whispered, breath fogging. “I’m… flying?”

A shadow fell over him. Thragg hovered just above, eyes narrowed in thoughtful scrutiny.

“So. Your powers did kick in.”

No warmth. No pride. Just a clinical satisfaction.

Castal stared up at him, chest still heaving, heart pounding.

“You were going to kill me,” he said, quiet.

“If you were weak,” Thragg replied, “you were never worth keeping.” The words hit harder than gravity.

The air was thin, cold. Castal’s head spun as he drifted downward in a shaky descent, his small arms trembling from the effort of flying. He didn’t really understand how he was doing it—his body had just stopped falling, like something inside him had snapped open in that moment of terror.

The moment his father dropped him.

The second he realized Thragg truly, deeply didn’t care.

He didn’t fly fast. He didn’t know how to control it well enough yet. He wobbled and dipped dangerously low a few times, barely catching himself. But all he cared about was one thing:

His mom.

He could still see her—small from above, hunched over in the garden outside the palace, her hands digging into the stone path like it could ground her against the weight in her chest. The other kids were nowhere to be seen. Probably still inside. Only she had run to the yard, screaming his name like it was the only word left in the world.

When he landed—hard, stumbling, knees scraping the dirt—she was already racing to him.

“CASTAL!!”

She dropped to her knees so fast she nearly slipped. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into her chest so tight he couldn’t breathe—but he didn’t care. He hugged her back, trembling as the adrenaline drained from his veins and was replaced with something else.

Fear. Sadness. Love. Shame.

“My baby boy…” she sobbed, rocking him back and forth. “My baby. My sweet boy—I thought he—I thought—” Her voice broke completely.

Castal shook his head. “He just let go. Like I didn’t matter. But—I flew, Mama. I didn’t fall. I flew.”

She pulled back just enough to cup his face, looking into his eyes. Her fingers were shaking. Her lips trembled.

“I don’t care that you flew. I don’t care about powers, or strength, or what he wants from you. I just… I just need you to be okay.” Her voice cracked as tears rolled down her cheeks, falling into the dirt beneath them.

She leaned her forehead to his, whispering through sobs, “My heart can’t take this anymore… it can’t… I’m not strong like he wants. I’m just a mom. Just yours. That’s all I’ve ever been…”

Castal gripped her tighter, his little fingers curling into her tattered shirt. “Then you’re the strongest person in the world.”

She let out a broken laugh through the tears, and it only made her cry harder.

In the distance, the clouds above the citadel parted slightly—and the faint shimmer of Thragg’s form disappeared back inside.

Watching. Measuring.

But Castal didn’t look up again.

All he saw was his mother. All he heard was her heartbeat, fast and frantic against his ear. And in that moment, even if he was Viltrumite, he swore to himself:

He would never be like his father.

The next morning, Thragg summoned Castal.

Not with gentleness, or even words—just a sharp gust of wind and pressure as he descended into the courtyard, landing with a ground-shaking thud that made the baby cry in the distance. The children paused their games. The servants scattered.

Only Castal stood still.

“Come,” Thragg ordered. “You begin training today.”

Castal’s tiny shoulders tensed. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move.

His mother stepped into view from the doorway, hair tousled, sleep still clinging to her face. She was pale. Haunted. Her arms automatically reached for him, protective—panicked.

“No.”

Thragg turned his head slightly. Not fully. Just enough to acknowledge her protest.

“He is Viltrumite. He is mine to mold.”

“He’s eight,” she snapped, voice trembling but fierce. “He’s a child. My child.”

Thragg’s eyes narrowed.

“He flew. He survived. That makes him worthy. It is more than your other failures ever gave me.”

Castal didn’t even look at his father. His eyes were on his mother—on her shaking hands, the red in her eyes, the way she seemed so small beneath the weight of Thragg’s shadow.

“He doesn’t belong to you,” she whispered. “You’ve taken everything. My body. My home. My hope. Please don’t take my son.”

Thragg stepped toward her, slow, unhurried.

“You forget your place again.”

“I know my place,” she said, voice breaking. “And I know his. He’s not a soldier. He’s not your puppet. He feels. You’ll kill that in him like you killed it in yourself.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Castal spoke.

“I’ll go.”

She looked at him, shocked. “Castal—!”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s okay, Mama. I’ll go.”

Thragg gave a nod of approval. He didn’t smile. He never smiled.

As Castal stepped past her, she reached for him instinctively—but he stopped just shy of her touch.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “He hates when you cry.”

She blinked, a new flood of tears filling her vision—but now, something else was behind them.

Fear.

Because something in Castal’s voice had changed. Something flat. The warmth had dimmed just a little. The shield he raised wasn’t just to protect her anymore. It was to protect himself. And she saw it happening. Right before her eyes.

She knew it couldn’t last forever.

For weeks now, she’d noticed the signs. Her twins—barely four years old—had started to have strength beyond their age. Jump too far, fall too hard, and come up laughing. Little things. Nothing obvious. But to her, it was as terrifying as blood.

Viltrumite blood.

It was happening again.

She packed a small bag, nothing more than what she could carry. Food, cloth diapers, one soft toy for each child. The baby—barely two months—rested in a sling against her chest. She woke before dawn, ushered the twins out quietly, clutching their hands in the dark like a lifeline.

Castal was gone. Training with Thragg daily. Already quieter, already harder. She’d lost one. She refused to lose the others.

But the sky cracked open before she made it even halfway down the valley.

He was there.

Descending like a god in a red cape and bloodstained armor. A shadow that swallowed the sun.

Thragg landed hard in front of them, the ground quaking under his boots. The twins froze in fear. One whimpered. The baby stirred against her chest.

She stepped in front of them.

“No.”

He didn’t pause.

“So they were just late bloomers,” he muttered, tone more annoyed than pleased. “Hmph.”

She clutched her babies tighter. “They’re not yours.”

“They are mine by blood. And now, by purpose.”

He reached for them.

She shoved at him, desperate. “You can’t have them! Please! They’re still so small. Let them stay children—let them live!”

He didn’t even look at her when he pushed her aside.

It wasn’t a hit. Not exactly. Just a shove—light, by his standards. But she flew ten feet into the air and landed hard in the dirt with a sickening thud, arms wrapping around the baby in a last-second attempt to shield her.

Pain erupted through her back. She cried out.

The twins screamed.

“MAMA!”

Thragg lifted them—one under each arm. They kicked, screamed, sobbed.

“Don’t hurt her!” one shouted, tears streaming down his face.

The other pounded her fists against his side. “Let go of us! You’re scary!”

He barely blinked. “You’ll be grateful for this. One day.”

The baby’s cries tore through the valley as her mother crawled forward, blood in her mouth, hand outstretched.

“Thragg—”

He didn’t even turn back. He flew off.

And she was left in the dirt, sobbing into the rocks with her last child clutched to her chest, her voice raw and broken.

“Please… not my babies…”

[demonicelovator]

Okay so this is a bit dark, and I’m kinda hesitant to post it, but when the finale episodes were first coming out me and me friend talked about what would happen if Chase and everyone except for Buddy died and I came up with a sort of Ghost Chase au. I don’t have the motivation to do anything else with this idea but heres a drawing and little story based around it.

The story’s below the cut

....

He's dead.

Theyre all dead. Theyre dead and noone else cares except for me.

Its their own fauly. Chase shouldve just handed over his key when he could, if he had he could be living a normal life.

…

If he did buddy wouldnt have gotten attached. So attached that hes sat in his poor excuse for a room, desperatly trying to keep himself from crying so loud that he alerts the members of ex libris that hes back, getting comfort from his key of all things, and mourning the loss of the boy who onve inhabited the corpse currently slumped against him.

Buddy was pathetic, he shouldn’t have let it get to this point. He should have just gotten the heroine key and done his job before chase could find new keys, before Deacon and Prunella could start completing stories as well, before Buddy got close enough to Chase for him to feel a need to apologize to buddy, before they got trapped in a book that was being ruined somewhere in the real world, before Prunella and Deacon died, before Chase died, before-

“Hey!” Shouted violet, shaking him from his spiral of thoughts “Are you even listening to me? You need to pay better attention when people speak to you ***** the members won’t be happy with you if you space out like this in conversation!”

“R-right sorry..” it was hard to not sink into his own mind right now.

Violet huffed, changing to look a bit more sympathetic. “I understand that this is a lot for you, and that you want to greive the loss of this… boy.. but you need to at least pretend to act the same as usual! If they catch onto you…”

“I won’t let that happen”buddy whispered

“Good. Now you need to wipe those tears and make yourself presentable alright?” Violet put her hands on her hips, looking very stern. “You are going to go to ex libris, and say that the keyholders got trapped in a damaged book, rendering their keys useless, and you will turn me in to them. Under no circumstances will you mention the corpse in your room. Do you understand?”

“Yes, i understand. Can i just- can i have a moment first?”

“You’ve already had a moment *****!”

“Buddy.”

“What?l

“Call me Buddy.”

“Goodness, fine, just don’t ask the members to call you tha-“ Violet paused as Buddy pushed the miniature letter Chase gave him towards her. “What? What is this?”

“It’s a letter, for you.. Chase gave it to me, said it was from silver.”

“Oh.. Thank you.. Buddy.”

“You’re welcome, take your time.” Buddy began to lean against the bed frame, hands falling onto his lap. “Once your done I’ll get ready”

“Alright..” whispered violet, she seemed lost in her own world, absorbed by the small envelope she’d been given.

Buddy tilted his head back, resting it on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. He felt numb.

As Buddy was beginning to space out, he heard a voice whispering to him. Turning his head to try to find the source of the voice, he noticed a familiar face. Buddy jumped forward spinning around to look at the face.

“W- what the hell…” buddy whispered

“Wait! Hang on you can actually see me?” Chase said as he floated out from behind the bed, moving to float just over the edge. “Woah, thats awesome Buddy!”

“You- You’re supposed to be dead!”

“I am dead, thats literally my corpse right there dude.” He pointed as he began to sit.

“But- Chase, how can you be-“

“Ever heard of ghosts?”

“Buddy!” Violet interrupted “who are you talking to!?”

“Wh- you cant see him?”

“See who? Whatever, I’ve finished reading my letter, thank you for delivering it by the way, you need to get ready to meet with ex libris.”

“Yeah Buddy! Quit procrastinating and do your job!” Teased the ghost

“Leave me alone, you didn’t just cry for almost half an hour” Buddy mumbled as he walked towards the bathroom.

“Fair enough”

Buddy couldn’t understand how he could be so calm about this.

[sugardollcurse]

god i love the way you write the boys....your dialogue is always so good and characteristic!!!

could i possibly request one where a reader is also a beatle and is in love with one of the boys & he's in love with her too but it's one of those unspoken things they don't acknowledge cause they don't wanna ruin the band and "if it was gonna happen, it would have already." but now with all the stress of the get back era / post-break up, he sort of realizes its now or never and confesses? george or paul seem the type for that sorta thing but idc which beatle truly....whichever one would be most fun for you to write, i just love a good yearning!! if it interests you ofc if not no worries!

𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

꒰ pairing ꒱ george harrison x fem!reader

꒰ summary ꒱ george had been in love with you for years. you’d been in love with him too. but it had always been unspoken.

꒰ note ꒱ thank you so much angel!! and thank you for this beautiful little ache of a request.. i love it so much.. yearning forever and ever!!

You were sitting on the rooftop of Apple Corps, legs swinging over the edge like a madwoman, cigarette tucked between your fingers, breath fogging up in the freezing January air. Below you, London roared and shifted, unaware that the most famous band in the world had just cracked apart.

The wind clawed at your coat, pulled at your hair, but you didn’t move. You were staring at the sky… grey, flat, unforgiving. Just like everything else lately.

“Knew I’d find you up here.”

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

George’s voice was quieter now. Less sure of itself. Not the sharp, smug tone he’d used in ‘64 when you’d all been invincible. Now, it was lower, softer. Like something heavy had settled into his bones and never left.

“Didn’t know you were looking.”

He stepped beside you, the soles of his boots scraping on the rooftop gravel.

“Always do.”

You took a slow drag, let the silence stretch. If you spoke too soon, you might say something stupid. Or worse, something true.

George sat next to you, not too close. Not touching. Never touching. That was the thing about you and him, it had always been like this. Almost. Nearly. Not quite.

You both stared out over the city.

Downstairs, the building still echoed with whatever was left of the band. Someone, probably Paul, was arguing with Glyn again. John had disappeared with Yoko an hour ago. Ringo was politely hiding in the loo.

You and George? You always ended up here.

“D’you remember Hamburg?” he asked suddenly, voice a bit hoarse from the cold.

You let out a small sound. “Christ. I try not to.”

He laughed, the first real laugh you’d heard from him in weeks. “You were always knackered. Couldn’t keep up.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep up when you’re playing till three in the morning and getting screamed at by German drunks on your break.”

He smiled at that. “You were better than all of us, even then.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking ash over the ledge. “You’re a shit liar.”

“’M not lyin’.”

Something in his tone made you glance over at him. He wasn’t looking at you, just at the street, his jaw tight, his profile sharp in the dull sky.

“You were always better,” he said again, softer this time. “Smarter. Sharper. Didn’t talk just to hear yourself. And you always saw through all of us.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said nothing.

“I used to think…” He trailed off, exhaling hard through his nose. “Ah, forget it.”

You turned to face him fully. “Don’t do that. Say it.”

George met your eyes. And for a second, everything dropped. The sarcasm. The walls. The careful, polite distance.

You saw it there, plain as day.

“I used to think,” he said slowly, “that maybe, if we weren’t the Beatles, maybe you and me could’ve… I dunno.”

He couldn’t finish it. You finished it for him. “Been something.”

His eyes flicked to yours, surprised. “Yeah.”

The silence now was heavier. More loaded.

You swallowed. “I thought about it too.”

George looked down at his hands. He was fiddling with the cuff of his coat, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“But we were the Beatles,” you said. “And that meant… you couldn’t touch anything without it breaking.”

He nodded. “So we didn’t.”

You bit your lip. “And now look at us.”

George gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Funny, innit? Didn’t want to ruin the band, and we ruined it anyway.”

You stared at the skyline, chest tight. “If it was ever gonna happen…”

“It would’ve already,” he finished. His voice was hollow.

You both went quiet again.

But this time, it didn’t stretch comfortably. It ached.

George suddenly stood up, shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets. He looked like he might walk off. Might disappear.

“I don’t want to regret you an’ all,” he said suddenly.

Your head snapped toward him. “George-“

“I mean it.” He was pacing now, just a little. Agitated. That nervous energy he got when he was writing something that mattered and couldn’t get it down right.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for ages. Maybe years. I dunno. Could be since Hamburg. Or India. Or even earlier. But it’s always been there, hasn’t it?”

You stood, your breath catching.

George met your eyes. “An’ I kept tellin’ meself it was too risky. That if I said anythin’, I’d mess up everythin’. You’d go. Band’d split. People’d blame me.”

A pause.

“But the band’s splittin’ anyway.”

You couldn’t breathe.

George stepped closer now. “So what’s the bloody point in pretendin’ anymore?”

Your chest ached. “What are you saying?”

He looked at you like it hurt. “I’m sayin’ I love you.”

The words didn’t come out perfect. They weren’t romantic or lyrical. They were raw. Ugly with fear.

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” he went on, eyes bright. “And I didn’t say it ‘cause I thought I was protectin’ somethin’. But… I dunno.”

You were still frozen.

George’s voice broke slightly. “Say somethin’.”

You swallowed thickly. “I love you too.”

He blinked.

“I never said anything because-“ You laughed, quietly, bitterly. “Because of all the same reasons. I didn’t want to lose what we had. I didn’t want to be the one who ruined it.”

“But it’s wrecked anyway,” he said. “So maybe… maybe we start from here… yeah?”

You looked at him, really looked.

The George who stood before you wasn’t the little boy from Liverpool anymore. He wasn’t the cheeky lead guitarist. He wasn’t the shadow behind John and Paul.

He was a man. Tired. Brilliant. Terrified. Hopeful.

You reached for his hand. Slowly. Carefully.

And he took it.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee

[augustghosts]

Crossed Lines

A break up, years of friendship, a power outage and then… oops. No going back.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT! Not proofread. Non!idol au. Friends to lovers. Sex on a couch. Unprotected sex bc fiction. Oral f!recieving.

AN: I debated posting this bc i’m insecure abt this one lowkey lmao. Might delete </3

Soobin, oh Soobin. Your soft, kind and awfully handsome friend. The one person who’s always been there - rain or shine. And here he is today, helping you haul boxes out of your no exes place, late at night, while you keep sniffling and tearing up. You’ve been newly single for two weeks now and, honestly? Soobin couldn’t be happier. But he’s not about to share that with you. Especially since being back here and moving your stuff out of he who shall not be named’s apartment seems to have opened up some old wounds for you. He finishes putting the last box of your stuff into his trunk and turns to you. You look adorable. Wearing his hoodie he gave you because it had suddenly gotten cold during your 1am moving out heist.

“You okay?” He asks, softly. His deep voice is gentle and calming as he reaches out to touch your arm.

“Yeah. Should we?” You answer, gesturing to the car. You climb into the passenger seat as he gets on the other side and starts his car. He helps you haul the boxes back up the steps into your own apartment, like the angel he is, and offers to make you dinner. Dinner at 2am? He laughs when you shake your head and makes you tea instead.

“So, uh, I'll see you soon?” He asks, handing you a mug. He puts his hands in his pockets and prays to every god he can think of that you’ll ask him to stay.

You sigh and look down at the mug. “Do you… wanna stay? It’s lonely living alone now.”

If Soobin could do backflips, he would have done one at this moment. But he keeps his cool and smiles at you sweetly. “Of course I will. Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod and watch him as he reaches for your tv’s remote and flops down next to you on the couch. You guys have stayed on each other's couches a million times before, but never when you were both single. He’s also glad you asked him to stay because he’s kind of exhausted from carrying all of those boxes, but he won’t tell you that. He was your hero today, and it’s making his ego soar. You’re both exhausted, to be honest, it's almost 2am now and all the crying you did today has worn you out as well. Thats why your eyes flutter open a few hours later, 4:30am according to your phone, and find Soobin asleep next to you. You had somehow ended up with your head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on top of yours. His arm is behind you on the back of the couch, his fingers lightly touching your shoulder. His legs are still splayed out in front of him on your coffee table and yours are tucked up beneath you, your knees just touching his thigh.

He looks beautiful when he sleeps. His hair is a little messy from how many times he ran his hands through it today and his pouty lips look even more pouty when his face is completely relaxed in sleep. You stare at him for a minute, enough to make you feel like a creep. You don’t want to move. You wonder if he’s gonna be uncomfortable when he wakes up from sleeping like this, but at this moment. You kind of don’t care. You selfishly lay your head back down on his shoulder and close your eyes again. Falling asleep feeling safe tucked up against your best friend's side.

The next morning, he wakes up first and gently untangles himself from you. When you wake up he’s pulling on his shoes and jacket.

“Good morning.” He smiles down at you. His voice was slow and lazy and laced with sleep. You guys have slept at each other's places before, but you’ve never spent the night cuddling. That was new, and it should probably feel awkward, but with Soobin it doesn’t - of course it doesn’t. It never would with him.

“Morning.” You reply, stretching and sitting up. “Do you want something before you leave? Coffee? Breakfast?”

Are you asking because you care or because you secretly want him to stay? You don’t have time to think because he shakes his head and answers. “No. I’ll get something on my way home. I need to leave, I have stuff to do today.”

“Yeah, me too.” You sigh. You get up to hug hug goodbye, as always. He hugs you tightly. He hated seeing you so upset yesterday. It broke his heart and he just wants to hold you. When you pull away he keeps a hold of you, searching your eyes for something… honestly, he doesn’t even know. He just loves looking at you. When you reach up to brush his hair out of his face he gently stops you, grasping your wrist.

“Don’t do that if you don’t mean it.” He whispers.

You don’t move your hand, you look at his big hand grasping your wrist. He lets go first. Neither of you say anything, and then he leaves. You didn’t even get to thank him for his help yesterday.

A week later, you and Soobin are sitting on the couch at his apartment, playing some kind of video game. You don’t even know what's going on, you just love seeing him happy - so you play them because he enjoys them. You’re both trying your best to ignore the howling of the wind outside and the rain beating against the windows.

You’re thankful that the both of you are so good at acting like nothing happened. You want to ask him what he meant, what he thought you were doing when you touched his face. But to be honest, you’re not even sure what you were doing. You were just innocently touching his hair, right? You weren’t going to go any further. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“You good?” His deep voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife. You jump slightly and nod mumbling a small ‘mhm’.

“I thought i lost you,” He chuckles. “You looked deep in thought. Wanna play another round?”

You’re glad he doesn’t pry at what you were thinking about. Soobin usually isn’t good at minding his own business. But little do you know that he doesn’t need to ask, he already knows what’s on your mind. Because it’s on his mind too. You open your mouth, about to answer his question, but as you do the entire apartment is plunged into darkness.

“Shit,” He mumbles. “Is the storm that bad?”

The room is lit up again as Soobin turns on his phone flashlight. He wanders around the room flicking all the light switches and checking the sockets behind the tv.

“Power outage i guess,” He says. “Uhm…” He looks around like he’s thinking of what to do.

“Do you have like… candles or something?” You ask. Still sitting under one of his blankets with your knees to your chest, clutching the game controller.

“Uh, not many. Only a few scented candles. Let me look.” He leaves and takes the flashlight with him. You’re plunged into darkness again until you reach for your own phone. Eventually he returns with three glass jars. He rummages in a drawer and pulls out a lighter.

“This is all I have so it won’t be very bright.” He chuckles. “But better than running down our phone batteries.”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly. “Why do you have these?” He didn’t seem like the scented candle type.

“My ex-girlfriend. She left them here, but I don’t really use them so…”

“Oh. We should thank her then.” You joke and smile, ignoring the way it feels like your heart just twisted in your chest. You knew Soobin dated, you’d even met multiple of his girlfriends. So what the fuck just happened inside your chest?

“I don’t think so. I don’t have anything to thank her for.” He scoffs. You wonder which girl he’s talking about. He’d never told you that any of his relationships ended badly.

“What are we going to do now?” You ask. Soobin lights the candles and puts them in different corners of the room. He was right, they aren’t very bright. But they give off a nice orange glow that is oddly peaceful. The TV’s dead, the hum of electricity gone.

“I don’t know,” He sighs. “I’m pissed about my game. I bet it didn’t save, now I'm gonna need to play that level again.”

“We’re too reliant on technology. The lights go out and now we’re like two lost puppies.” You laugh. You could get out your phone and scroll, but you don’t know how long the electricity will be out. Saving batteries is a good idea.

“You think we can’t find something to talk about? We used to talk for hours on end.” He smiles. “Are you okay though? You look so tense.”

“I’m good, really. You don’t think this is a little nerve wracking?” You laugh a little awkwardly.

“Of course it is,” He agrees. “But I don't mind being stuck here with you, I can think of much worse people to be trapped in a power outage with.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “The last time the power went out like this I was at… his place.”

Soobin knows you're talking about your ex, and he can’t help the way his face scrunches up in disgust. He’s glad it's dark enough that you probably didn’t even notice.

“So it wasn’t candlelit and romantice like this?” He jokes, trying to ease out the tension that’s suddenly in the room.

“No,” You sigh, pulling the blanket up higher on your chest. “Unless you count him ignoring me and calling me dramatic while I was panicking romantic?”

Soobin has to physically fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course he did that. You know…”

He trails off and looks at you, not sure if he should carry on. He doesn’t want to make you mad or upset you. But he’s needed to get this off of his chest for a while. “He always… rubbed me the wrong way. You know?”

“Really?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes. “I thought you guys got along when you met?”

“We did, but… I only got along with him… for you.” Soobin looks away as he talks. He can feel your gaze burning into the side of his face. “He was always…smug and uncaring. I thought so anyway. So different from you. I could never figure out why you were with him.”

You’re about to speak when he starts again. “Actually I do understand. You’re way too forgiving. That's why.”

You’re shocked. He sounds angry, but you know he’s not angry at you. But he is angry. You didn’t know he felt so strongly about this, about your relationships. “Don’t start.” You sigh. You don’t know what else to say.

“No, seriously,” He finally turns towards you as he speaks. He’s so close to you, knees almost touching. “It’s true. He treated you like you were lucky to have him, and the whole time I was wondering if he ever realised how lucky he was to have you.”

Your breath catches. His knee presses lightly into yours, deliberate this time. His eyes are locked on you, unwavering.

“You deserve someone who shows up for you. Someone who actually listens to you.” He whispers. He’s talking about himself, selfishly. But he’s so right. He’s the only one who ever showed up. Who actually cared.

“You always know exactly what to say.” You smile. Your fingers brush his and he doesn’t pull away, your knees are still pressed together. You look at him, your eyes wide and pleading. Trying to stop yourself from tearing up.

“Or, maybe I'm telling the truth. Maybe I mean it.” He says, his face is serious. His eyes searching yours. He leans a bit closer, close enough that you feel the heat off his skin, his breath barely ghosting over your cheek. Your hand moves without thinking, resting on his thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m gonna do something really stupid.” He whispers against your cheek. His voice is so small and gentle, using a tone you’ve never heard him use before. The tension between you is unbearable now. His big brown eyes are on your lips, flicking up to meet yours again, like he’s checking, almost begging, for permission.

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles as he leans closer, his voice is low and breathy.

You should, but you don’t. You can’t. You just look at him like he’s the only safe thing in the world and that fucking does it for him. He leans in slowly, like he wants to savor the moment. He does, he’s been waiting for this for years. When he finally kisses you it’s soft. Gentle. Like he’s trying not to break you. One of his big hands comes up to your face, fingers brushing your jaw, then sliding into your hair. You make a tiny noise as his fingers tangle in your hair - barely a gasp, and he swears it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. it breaks something in him. His other hand finds your waist tugging gently at you until you climb into his lap. His hands roam over your back, your waist anywhere he can, like he’s waited his whole damn life for this. The kiss deepens, lips parting, breath mingling. It’s hungry now. Everything you’ve both been unable to say to each other pouring out between kisses and sighs and hands. Your hands grasp at his shirt, tugging him closer, and he groans against your mouth like it’s killing him not to have you completely.

“We really… shouldn’t be doing this.” He groans breathlessly.

“Then let's stop.” You whisper, you don’t mean it. And you know he doesn’t either.

“Not a fucking chance.” He practically growls as he kisses you again, harder this time. He’s already made up his mind, there’s no going back now. His large hands slip under your shirt and travel up your back, he pulls away and looks you in the eyes - asking permission. You nod desperately, grasping his face and pulling him back in to kiss you again, only breaking it when he pulls your shirt over your head. His hands grasp your bare waist tightly, possessively. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes taking in your beautiful form - lingering on your chest. He groans and attaches his lips to your neck, desperate to mark you as his own. Although you’ve always been his - you both know that.

As he sucks on your neck your hands run through his hair, holding the back of his head. You moan softly and it lights a fucking fire inside of him. His hands race lower to your ass and he squeezes roughly. You copy his move and pull at the back of his shirt, begging him to take it off. He listens and leans away from your neck to get rid of it - you gasp as you look him over. He’s so fucking gorgeous, you run your hands over his strong shoulders and down the soft skin of his chest. His abs clench under your touch and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your touch drives him crazy and he stands up abruptly with you still wrapped around his hips, he turns and drops you down onto the couch. His hands reach for your hips and his fingers slip under the waistband of your sweats. “Can I, baby?” He asks breathlessly. God, he’s never looked more beautiful. Looking up at you with big brown glassy eyes - full of hope. His hair is messy, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen and wet. He’s never called you ‘baby’ before and it makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah… yeah.” You mumble, helping him pull them off of you. You lift your hips and let him take everything off you. He places his hands on your knees and keeps your legs spread for him.

“Fuck, baby. All this for me?” His voice is low and gravely and it makes you squirm. You nod and caress his face.

“What?” He coos. “What do you want?”

“Please,” You whine, already desperate for him. He’s desperate for you too, he’s desperate to touch you and hear you moan for him, but he wants to hear it come from your mouth. “Please touch me, Soobin. Please.”

He smirks and wastes no time. He lifts your legs over his shoulders and grabs your thighs pulling you up slightly so your hips are at an angle, your pussy directly in front of his face. He spreads you open with his thumbs and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, almost out of habit, as he attaches his mouth to your swollen, desperate nub. He looks up at you, gauging your reactions. When you moan and whine he sucks harder or moves his tongue faster. You don’t want to think about how he’s so good at this, but you’re thankful for it.

“Oh my god, Soobin…” You whine and throw your head back onto the couch. You're clutching his head so tightly but he doesn’t seem to mind. He moans into you when you lightly tug at his hair and cry out his name. It doesn’t take him long to bring you to the edge and he lifts an arm to pin down your hips when you start to buck into his face.

“I’m close, Soobin.” You warn him. He swears the tone of voice you use is the hottest thing he’s ever heard and his cock is aching in his sweats.

“Yeah?” He pulls away to ask, the smirk on his face should be condescending but looking into his eyes makes you even more turned on, if that's even possible. He pushes a finger inside of you and gets back to work on your clit, desperate to tip you over the edge. You whine out his name as he adds another finger and it ignites the fire in your belly. You moan out his name and tense on the couch as he makes you finish with his mouth. He pulls away and rests his head on your thigh, a shit eating grin on his face.

“You’re so pretty when you come.” He says, kissing your sensitive inner thigh. His lips are flushed and wet with you and he looks gorgeous. The candle light makes him look even more ethereal. Now you think about it, you’re kinda impressed at how he just did that in the semi-dark.

“Yeah? You wanna see it again?” You grin back at him and pull weakly on his arms. He laughs and stands up, crawling back over you to kiss you messily. Your hands brush past his stomach and slip under the waistband of his black sweats, he groans into your mouth. He’s so fucking hard. He was trying his best not to hump the damn couch as he ate you out, he wants to fuck you properly and didn’t want to come in his pants from pleasuring you - which he definitely could have.

“Mhmm, I do.” He mumbles against your lips. “I wanna see it everyday, forever.”

Oh Soobin, ever the romantic. Even as you're pushing his sweats down his thighs and taking his leaking cock into your hand. He moans quietly and thrusts slightly into your hand. Your other hand is on the back of his neck pulling him closer to you, he gets the message and climbs over you, taking one of your soft thighs into his hand and pulling it over his hip.

“You don’t know how long I've wanted you.” He whispers as he takes his cock into his hand and finally slides home. You want to reply, you want to tell him about how long you’ve wanted him as well, but the feeling of him finally stretching your walls out leaves you speechless. Your mouth falls open as he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes watching your reactions closely as he starts to thrust into you. His own mouth is open and his brow furrows as he finally feels you wrapped around him, warm and wet and better than he ever could have imagined.

“Oh my god, baby… fuck.” He practically whimpers against your lips as he leans down to kiss you. “Oh, you feel like heaven. So fucking good.”

“Oh, Soobin,” You moan as he picks up his pace. “Harder… please.” The whine in your voice makes his stomach twist and he has to slow down for a second. He’s in a tough position - fucking you for the first time on the damn couch. But he’s determined to make it work. He plants one of his feet on the floor so he can thrust into you harder.

He groans as you dig your hands into his shoulders and arch your back so your chest is pressing against his. He lowers down onto his elbows beside your head so he’s even closer to your face, he wants to be as close and possible to you. Your legs wrap around his waist as you moan for him and can’t fucking get enough. He’s drilling into you like his fucking life depends on it.

“God, I'm not gonna last baby,” He whispers. “You look so fucking pretty like this… so gorgeous.”

“Me too.” You nod and cup his face. “I’m almost there.”

His eyes widen as your hand leaves his cheek to travel down between you both, he watches as you touch yourself and its his last fucking straw. He whines your name beautifully as he fills you up, his hips stilling and his hands beside your head grip your hair and tilt your head up to look at him.

“That’s it baby, come for me. Let me see it.” He groans, watching your hand on your clit. He hisses as you finish around him, squeezing the life out of his sensitive dick. He kisses your cheek as you both come down from your highs, his strong arms are still holding him up beside your head. And if you weren’t so fucking spent from how good he fucked you, you might have made a comment on it. Instead you bring your hands to his biceps and feel the muscles rippling under his skin.

Eventually he climbs off of you and the aftermath of sex on the couch is a little more awkward than you thought. You wrap the blanket around you and he pulls on his sweats before leaning down to kiss you.

“I love you.” He whispers. “I’ve loved you for so fucking long.” He holds your chin between his fingers as his eyes search your face.

“I love you too. I always have.” You whisper, and kiss him feverishly. When you pull away you stare into his beautiful eyes in disbelief, is this really happening? You just had sex with your best friend and now you’re both confessing your love for each other.

“Why did we wait so long?” He wonders aloud.

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “But i do know that i’m fucking starving now.”

His face lights up with his signature boyish grin, the one you love so much. He kisses you one last time and jumps up to disappear into the kitchen.

“Go into my room and find some clothes, take anything you want.” He calls out to you as he goes through his cupboards. The power is still out, so eventually you settle on cereal and whatever snacks you can find and you both watch you tube on his ipad until the power comes back on. It’s so fucking cheesy, and very cliche. But it’s all you’ve both ever wanted, there’s no going back over the line you’ve both just crossed. But why would you want to?

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 20

Masterlist

Warning: fluff, grief, cuteness overload, reader is very smart and Yelena finds it hot, kissing, teasing, hickies. everyone loves to pick on Yelena

Word Count: 4.8k

Note: A lied. In honor of Thunderbolts* here is the next chapter of Second Chance.

Honestly, you felt great compared to yesterday. Maybe it had to do with the extra hydration, the laughter shared between everyone, or waking up in Yelena’s arms, but you felt refreshed. You woke up, untangled yourself from Yelena, and went downstairs. Not even Laura was up. So you started breakfast. Sunday morning was for scrambled eggs, pancakes, bacon, and fresh orange juice. Plus coffee for the adults. It wasn’t long before Laura entered. “This is a surprise,” you smiled.

“I felt good,” you shrugged, and finished mixing the pancake batter. Once you were satisfied. “I have to take advantage of the good days.” Laura nodded.

“We have some fresh fruit that will go well with those pancakes.” You smiled. You were glad that Laura allowed you the space to cook without trying to take it from you.

Soon enough, the smell of food brought each family member out. Bucky and Nat were the first. The couple grabbed some pancakes and bacon and thanked you with a smile. Next was Copper and Lila. Laura ensured there was at least some fruit on their plate before sending them to the table to do their homework. They were supposed to get it done before this weekend. After them, it was Yelena. It seemed impossible not to look at her, and your heart flips. Her braid was a little messy. Her sleepwear was big on her frame, but she looked at peace.

The blonde walked over to you and wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you flush to her chest. “Morning, baby,” you whispered. “Coffee is ready.” She kissed the back of your neck and removed herself from you. You sadly missed her warmth. You built a small plate for her, and she took it while she passed to eat breakfast with Natasha and Bucky. Finally, Clint emerged with Nate on his shoulders.

“I think you are getting too big for this, buddy,” the archer said, placing his youngest on the counter. You smiled and poured him coffee. “Thank you.”

“Alright, it’s homework time for you, too,” Laura said, handing Nate a bowl of yogurt topped with fresh fruit. Nate groaned.

“I don’t wanna.” He complained.

“Then you should have done it when I told you to,” Laura smiled and pinched her youngest on the cheek. Now that everyone was fed, you made your plate and cup of coffee.

“Come on, bud,” you said to Nate. “Let’s see if we can tackle this homework together.” He sighed, jumped off the counter, and joined his siblings at the table.

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Yelena was sure her coffee and food had gone cold. Her eyes were trained on you. It amazed her how easily you fit in with this part of her life. You moved around the kitchen and immediately jumped in to help the kids with their homework. You were explaining a math problem to Cooper. The eldest Barton struggled with the subject, but from the looks and sounds of it, you were explaining it in a way that he understood. Gods, you were driving her insane. She thought these feelings of having a family and leaving the fighting died in the Red Room. But you were waking them inside her. To make matters worse, she had only just met you.

Once Copper focused on his assignment, your eyes found her. You winked, and a playful smirk was on your face. Such a fucking tease. A sharp flick to her cheek pulled her out of her less-than-PG thoughts. “Stop that,” Natasha said. “You are eye fucking.” Yelena huffed and took a sip of the coffee. Thankfully, it was still warm.

“Please, I have walked in on you and Bucky.” The super soldier shrugged.

“You should have knocked,” Yelena rolled her eyes and dug into the food you cooked. It was unfair how good you were in the kitchen, even though your body struggled to eat.

“Have you spoken to Melina?” Natasha asked after a few beats of her food. The mention of her adoptive mother caused Yelena to cringe. When she was in Iowa, Melina called her twice and texted her, which she ignored. “By that face, I guess that is a no,” Natasha chuckled. “She needs to talk to you.”

“And why can’t you talk to her?” Yelena countered. Natasha held her gaze before finishing her coffee.

“I have, but she clearly needs something from you that I can’t provide.” Yelena dropped it as she heard the bitter tone in Natasha’s voice. While the relationship between her sister and Melina was better, it was still complicated. There was a level of distrust buried deep in Natasha, which Yelena couldn’t 100% fault her for. Everything about her family from Russia was so overly complicated. Sometimes, it was easier to forget about all the wrong. Sighing, Yelena nodded.

“I will call her after breakfast.” Natasha seemed content with that answer, but soon a playful smirk appeared on her sister’s face. “What is that look?”

“Nothing,” she said. Yelena glared at her sister.

“It is not nothing,” she mimicked her sister’s American accent. “Say it.” Natasha shrugged and leaned back against the couch. She was looking at you with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Have you told Melina and Alexei about her yet?”

“No,” Yelena said. It wasn’t like she was keeping you a secret. Hell, she invited you to Iowa, but telling her adoptive parents was complicated for her. The Bartons saw her as a hero, an Avenger, while Melina and Alexei knew her as the child prodigy of the Red Room.

“Scared of the shovel talk Alexei will give her,” Bucky said.

“No. That man is an idiot.” She wasn’t afraid of Alexei scaring you off due to a shovel talk. The man stood like a tank but was a softie at heart. She was scared you would finally see how much of a monster she was.

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Yelena disappeared to the Bartons’ home office. Unfortunately, Melina had problems with the database she designed to track all the Widows. It was malfunctioning slightly. Hopefully, it would be a simple fix as she entered the code she wrote. It aimed to help them see what Widows were still under Dreykov’s control. It seemed never-ending. Especially with the Blip, they lost so much time.

Suddenly, her vision was obstructed by hands covering her eyes. “Guess who?” Your voice tickled her ear. Yelena pretended to think.

“Mhm,” she thought. “Lucky?” You gasped and dropped your hands.

“Unbelievable,” Yelena chuckled and spun around in the chair. Her hands went to rest behind your thighs that weren’t covered by your sleep shorts. You looked beautiful like this - relaxed, happy, and not worried about tomorrow.

“It is unbelievable you are jealous of a dog,” you shrugged.

“I was wondering where you ran off, too,” you said, taking a small step forward to play with the hairs at the base of Yelena’s neck. She felt her tense muscles relax against you. It was unfair how much your touch and voice affected her. “I thought you ran away without me,” she said.

“I would never,” Yelena said seriously while she looked up at you. You chuckled, tracing the slope of her nose with your finger before glancing at the laptop behind her.

“Are you busy or can I steal you?” You asked. Yelena looked at the computer and wrestled with two halves of herself. On one hand, she wanted to be a good daughter and fix what Melina needed. It was up to her to free them all. It could wash all the blood she shed. The other half, she wanted to be selfish. She tried to choose for herself. “Yelena,” the blonde turned her attention back to you. “If you are busy, I can wait.”

You could wait, you told her. But you were feeling good today - how many days would you have left? Yelena smiled. “It can wait. What do you have planned?” For once, she chose herself and not her duty.

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Your plan was a combination of your idea and the Barton kids. Since it was your last day in Iowa, they wanted to take you to the playground. They described it as a wooden jungle gym that Tony bought for them. Honestly, it was nice seeing the billionaire care about the family of those on the team. The more you learned about him, the different image you created in your head.

Yelena left quickly after breakfast. Natasha told you she was working on something for their adoptive mother. Honestly, you were okay with it. It gave you time to hang out with Bucky and Natasha. You learned that Natasha liked to fluster the super soldier. You enjoyed listening to Bucky talk about the 40s.

By lunch, Yelena remained locked away in Barton’s office. To you, that would not do. One, she needed a break; two, you would not stand for her to work all day on your last day here. You packed a little picnic and told the kids to get ready to go. Convincing Yelena wasn’t hard. After getting changed, you followed the kids to the playground hand and hand with Lucky by your side. As the playground came into view, the kids took off running, as did Lucky.

Yelena brought you to a small clearing and spread the picnic blanket. “So,” she said once you were both sitting down comfortably. “What did you pack?” You smiled.

“See for yourself,” you watched the blonde go through the basket. First were the small sandwiches—you made enough for you, her, and the kids. The second thing was a bowl of fruit that was left over from breakfast. The last thing was a container of mac and cheese. Lila told you it was Yelena’s favorite, with a little hot sauce, which you also packed.

“Is this for me?” The blonde asked.

“Well, I would like some,” you laughed.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I will think about sharing.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Thank you, detka.” She kissed you softly.

“Of course. You deserve it.” Before she could protest, you took a bowl out and grabbed the mac and cheese from her. “I’m hungry.” You pivoted the conversation. Yelena smiled, but her eyes gave her away. Every day, you would tell her how much she deserved someone to care for her. She deserved happiness, love, and light. Even though her taste in mac and cheese was something to be desired. You cringed your nose at the hot sauce on her mac and cheese portion. “Dr. Carpenter called me,” you told her after moments of peace. She looked at you intentionally. “He wants me to start the new round of treatment instead of taking a break.” Yelena frowned.

“How do you feel about that?” You shrugged.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. I was excited for a break, but I trust him if he wants me to move forward.” Yelena took your free hand and rubbed her thumb across it. “I am a little nervous,” you whispered. I don’t know how this will affect me.”

“You are not alone, though,” she said. “I am here and so is Stark.” You smiled.

“I know,” you squeezed her hand. “I start tomorrow.” Yelena nodded. Thankfully, she dropped it and focused on the food you provided. Once you both were done, you cuddled against the blonde and watched the kids play.

“Thank you for coming,” Yelena whispered, kissing your forehead.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you said back. “I love it here.” Your face was pressed into the crook of her neck. You kissed the skin you could reach without entirely pulling away from her. You could feel her breath hitch, and it made you smile. It was a little mean, but you felt so powerful when she became affected by you. How could you not? A Black Widow, an Avenger, was weak to you. You sucked a mark on her neck. The groan she let out made your stomach dip.

Carefully, she grabbed your chin and forced you to look at her. Her touch was gentle yet firm. Her green eyes were dark, but you weren’t scared. “Careful, sweetheart,” she mumbled. “Do not start something you do not wish to finish.” Her lips ghosted against yours, and you moved to kiss her, but she refused to kiss you, still holding you in place. A soft whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it. Yelena smirked. “Takoy nuzhdayushchiysya (so needy).”

Finally, she kissed you. She kept it tamed due to being outside and in front of the kids, but God above you wanted to deepen it, forgo anything deemed unacceptable. She was weak to you, but you were weak to her. She was a drug that you were addicted to. Suddenly, Yelena yelped and ended the kiss. She rubbed her ear and glared at her sister, who appeared with Bucky, Clint, and Laura. “Keep it PG, children.” Yelena secretly flipped off her sister. Natasha tisked. “Come on, Belova,” she said. “You’re up,” Yelena mumbled something in Russian but stood up. She helped you stand and followed the group.

You shouldn’t be surprised that they added a knife-throwing range on the back of the playground. Even the three Barton kids gathered to watch the competition between Natasha and Clint vs. Bucky and Yelena. From your understanding, the targets were divided into points. The closer to the center, the more points you received. However, they staggered the targets. If you hit the furthest target, your points were tripled. Laura was in charge of keeping score.

It was a close match. Natasha would hit a bullseye on the second target, and Bucky would copy. Clint hit the first target, and Yelena followed suit. It was fun to watch, but your mind couldn’t help but try to find a mathematical way to figure it out.

Math was simple. Math was dependable. All you needed was the distance from the starting point to the target, average speed, and the knife’s balance. Observing Yelena, her grip on the knife changed depending on what target she was aiming at. She held it by the handle for another one and by the blade if it was the closest one. Interesting.

So you would need to solve for R - the number of rotations required to hit the target. The formula danced in your head.

R = w*t = w * d/v. Simplified, the formula would be R = w*d/v.

The knife Natasha threw at the first target rotated 2 times per second, with the target only being 5 meters away. If you threw the knife at 10 m/s, you would only need one rotation. R = 2.5/10 = 1.

Other factors, like wind, sunlight, and the knife’s weight, would be harder to factor in, but it was close.

The competition ended with Clint and Natasha winning by 2 points. “Can I try?” Everyone looked at you, obviously shocked.

“Go for it detka,” Yelena said. You smiled at the blonde and walked over to the starting point. Three knives were waiting for you.

“I can move it closer.” Clint offered. You glared at the man and picked up the knife, which caused him to shrink back.

“Careful, babe,” Laura laughed. “Never tell a woman what to do with a knife in her hand.” You looked at the knife in your hand and tested the weight. One rotation was all you needed, if your math was correct. You aimed at the target and threw it. The knife hit it, but not the bullseye. You frowned and picked up the second. So your math was correct, but your aim was the problem. The second knife hit the bullseye, but not the center. You huffed and bit your lip. The third and final knife his dead center.

“Eh, not bad,” you turned to look at the group. They were stunned into silence beside Yelena. Her green eyes were dark again, looking you up and down. It made your body head up. “What?” You questioned. “Do I have something on my face?”

“How the hell did you do that?” Natasha asked and pointed to the target. You looked at the older Black Widow, then back at the target.

“It’s basic math,” you sighed when they remained quiet. I calculated the distance between the target and how many rotations I would need,” you shrugged. It’s a little iffy with the sun and wind, but I made it work.”

Bucky whistled. “Damn, remind me never to piss you off.” You laughed.

“Don’t play me in pool then.” It was a simple statement that you thought would amount to nothing. You weren’t expecting to be led back to the Bartons’ house and down to the basement - a fully renovated basement with a massive movie screen and a mini bar. Yelena told you the basement project was a present from Kate. Everyone seemed to be spoiling the Barton kids. You needed to step up on your Auntie duties. You could take Lila and Cooper swimming with sharks. But you weren’t sure how happy Laura would be about that.

You took a pool stick off the wall while Clint racked the balls. The archer was your first opponent. “Do you want to break it?” You asked him as you put the chalk on the tip.

“Ladies, first,” you rolled your eyes but set up. Everyone filed into the room. Yelena was behind the bar making tisked for the kids, but you could feel her eyes on you. Laura made some popcorn while Bucky and Natasha leaned up against the wall. You swore you saw Natasha pass a ten-dollar bill to her boyfriend.

You broke the balls—not sinking any, but that was okay. It was your plan of action. It allowed Clint to sink two stripe balls back to back, but he missed his third. So you were solid.

Pool held a special place in your heart. It reminded you of your college days of sneaking into a bar you weren’t old enough to be in and beating men double your age for 20-100 bucks. Chelsie and you would play for hours at an old mom-and-pop restaurant. The owner allowed you to play and provided all the fires you could eat if you helped him each year during tax season.

But your love for the simple game came from your mom. She told you stories of how she would hustle men at bars to earn extra bucks. It wasn’t her intention to teach her 6-year-old, but you had a knack for it.

It helped that you saw the table as a coordinate plan. It was a simple chalkboard - the table became a grid. Each pocket a fixed point and every ball a coordinate. It wasn’t a randomness they become vectors and trajectories. You could sketch invisible lines in your head: a triangle from a cue ball to the rail to the target.

The entire game was a mental game of geometry. “Pocking the 8,” you told him. The game wasn’t close. You made two shots back to back and ‘missed’ the next. This allowed Clint to get one more shot, and then you ran away with the game. But the shot you called wasn’t going to be easy. There were a few balls in the way, but you weren’t worried. Smiling, you took your stance and hit the cue ball.

It was a trick shot as your aim was at the wall, not the ball. Even though you were 95% sure the ball would go in, you were still impressed when you landed it. Clint shook his head with a laugh. “How did you do that?” You shrugged and began gathering the balls to re-rack.

“It’s simple geometry,” you smiled at the others. “Whose next?”

Maybe it was a little mean and a major ego bust that you were able to best a few Avengers, but you needed the few wins life would give you. However, Yelena was a challenge. She was shoot for shoot with you. Maybe it was a dirty play, but you had to rely on a different tactic. Flirting. Sometimes you had to go low to keep your winning streak alive. Small touches. Playful smirks. She leaned over the table while she took her shot.

You sank the winning shot and straightened up. “Told you,” you smirked. “I know my way around a pool table.” You put your stick back. “I would bleed men dry with bets.” Natasha walked behind Yelena.

“I think you broke my sister,” she smacked the blonde on the back of her head. It snapped her out of whatever slump she was in.

“Dinner is ready,” Laura called from the stairs. She left to start the food before the final game. The basement cleared out one by one until it was just you and Yelena. Her green eyes followed you as you approached the pool stick in her hand. You took it easily from her.

“You know,” you smirked. “This is the quietest I’ve seen you.” You put the pool stick back and walked back over. Suddenly, Yelena pinned you to the pool table. The edge pushed into your back, but the pain wasn’t on your mind when her lips were on your neck. “Shit,” you stuttered and gripped onto her shoulder.

“I have been trying to control myself,” she bite down hard, no doubt leaving a mark you’d get shit for. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are.”

“Lena,” you moaned, back arching as her hand slid underneath your shirt. “Please.” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for. Hell, all rational thought left your brain. You were seconds from letting her fuck you against the pool table.

“Please, what, baby?” Yelena chuckled against your skin. Tell me what you want. I would give you anything; you have to ask.” You were thankful that she held onto your waist, or your legs would have given out. “Fucking beautiful.” Yup. Your first time with Yelena would be up against a pool table in Barton’s basement. You were okay with that.

Then the basement door opened. “Get your tongues out of each other’s mouths and come eat food,” Natasha’s voice called out. Yelena groaned against your skin.

“Come on,” you giggled and patted her back. “The last thing I want is for your sister to see you with your hand down my pants.” You gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and gently pushed her away. Before she could complain, you grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs. Natasha smirked as you walked by her.

“Nice artwork you got there,” she teased, pointing to your neck. You shrugged.

“The chemo makes me bruise easily.” You grabbed a plate from Laura, who was also trying to hide her smile but failing. “I didn’t know I was dating a vampire.” Yelena gasped.

“Were you not the one to say you like to claim what is yours?” A chorus of ‘ew’s came from the dining room table. You were sure you heard Copper yell, ‘Get a room, ' which Yelena mumbled, ‘I wish.’ Yeah, you were going to miss it.

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Dinner was dragged out. Laura made a quick, easy dinner, but everyone ate it slowly. It seemed like no one wanted this weekend to end. Finally, you were packing up your room and saying goodbye to the Bartons. You gave the biggest hug to Lila, Nate, and Cooper, and told the eldest two you would take them swimming with sharks (out of earshot of Laura). Clint told you to call him if you needed anything and kissed you on the top of your head. Then it was Laura. The mother of three held you tight, then cupped your face in your hands. “I will see you again,” she said with such belief that you believed her. You held onto her wrist with one hand, unable to make a promise you weren’t sure you could keep. “And remember what I told you.”

“We are family,” you whispered.

“Yes, we are,” she pulled you in for one more hug. “Stay strong, sweet girl, you got this.” You blew out a deep breath and nodded against her. It hurt to pull yourself out of her arms and follow Yelena, Bucky, and Natasha onto the jet. Luckily, Bucky and Natasha took the cockpit, so you followed Yelena to the seats. She made sure your bags were put away, then buckled in. “Natasha is a -,” she paused when she looked at you and saw tears in your eyes.

“Nothin’,” you tried to push the tears away, but they fell down your cheek. “Uh, Laura reminds me of my mom, so I uh-” you blew a raspberry out. “Sorry, this is so stupid.” You pushed the palms of your hands to your eyes.

“It is not stupid,” Yelena gently pulled your hands away. Can you tell me about her? Your mom, I mean.”

“Really?” you asked. Yelena nodded and kissed some of the tears away. “Well, she was my best friend.” And, you thought, I wish she could have met you.

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Back at the tower, you put your stuff in your living room and said hello to Wanda before heading down to Tony’s lap. You watched Tony move around his space with music blasting, unaware you were there. It gave you a chance to observe him. This was the man the media and the world couldn’t see or refused to acknowledge. The man behind Iron Man, Stark Industries, and the Avengers. The human behind everything. You remembered you witnessed a college protest against Stark Industries and their involvement in the construction of weapons that were killing innocent people. You were proud to witness the peaceful protest then, but now you understand that war and fighting are complicated. There were no winners when blood was shed. Sometimes you forget that a different Tony met your mom at a different point in her life. “Hey kiddo,” Tony said as he finally saw you, and FRIDAY turned down the music. The billionaire hugged you quickly. “How are the Mormons? How are you feeling?” His eyes scanned you over.

“Iowa was good,” you said, walking over to one of the bean bags and dropping down on one. I got sick—just once, though, which honestly is not bad considering everything. Did Dr. Carpenter call you?” The man shook his head and sat next to you. He wants me not to skip a week and continue with the new treatment plan.”

“How do you feel about that?” Yelena asked you the same question. Sighing, you shrugged.

“I trust him,” you said. “So I’ll do it, but I would have liked a break.” Before he could say more, you fished a piece of paper from your pocket. “Here,” you handed it to him. “I finished it on the way home.” You closed your eyes as he looked at the sketch of the Black Widow suit you designed.

You’ve been staring at it for so long that you could draw it with your eyes closed. The most significant change from their original suit was functionality over style. It was lightweight and had armor similar to the Black Panther nanosuit. To you, it made sense with all of the physical hand-to-hand combat they experienced. There were subtle red undertones for Natasha, and Yelena had white. The Black Widow symbol was removed. Their boots allowed for more noise-dampening and better climbing. The signature Widow Bites were sleeker, now integrated directly into their gloves.

“These are incredible,” you opened your eyes as you heard him stand up suddenly. “We can start building them today. I may have to reach out to Shuri, but we can start with the basics,” you giggled at the man’s excitement. “Do you want to help? Unless you have somewhere else to be.”

“Nope,” you stood up. “Right where I want to be.” His smile was infectious.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You weren’t sure how Tony could work such long hours in the lab. A headache was forming from all the lights and screens. But you were able to make good progress before Kate came running in. Tony was able to hide the project. “Are you good at darts?” The archer. You pointed to yourself. “Yes, you. Yelena said you were amazing at the pool. Do those kills translate to darts?”

“Uh,” you dragged out. “Kind of.” Darts were okay. Not your favorite game, but bars were more likely to have a dart board due to space.

“Amazing,” Kate clapped her hands together. “Alright, Stark, you’re coming too. It’s game time.” Tony huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Come on,” Tony said to you. “Before reinforcements come down.” You were so confused, but you followed him out of the lab. It was how you found yourself at a dart tournament between the Avengers. It was held outside at the covered heated patio. Music was playing. Tony was behind the bar serving drinks, and when you weren’t playing, Yelena held you hostage with her arms around your waist.

It seemed wild that this was your life now. Months and years spent alone, now you were surrounded by so much love.

_

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