#i guess it's just a small fault for me at least

[mothnita]

HELLO!

i've been wanting to talk about this for SO LONG now! i'm so sorry for the rant i'm abt to do

so, recently i've noticed that some of the most recently released games (i'm specifically talking abt the Switch) have been made A LOT easier to beat, whether it's bc of a new feature the Switch added or just the game itself being nerfed down

i noticed it first with Kirby and The Forgotten Lands, where me and my sibling started joking abt rushing the whole game simply because the levels were...too easy; now don't get me wrong, there absolutely were some difficult parts, but at the end they feel more annoying than truly challenging

hell, i think the only levels we truly struggled with were the Forgo Dreams Isles and the True Arena, maybe even the last Treasure Road, but even then, if you had all weapons upgraded and had a decent enough strategy, those would go by pretty quick

Kirby Star Allies on the other hand?

that had me SOBBING on the floor

as for Pikmin, i definitely see the downgrade in difficulty, especially when it comes to bosses and caves

i was thrilled to see many enemies from Pikmin 2 back, even moreso when i realized we'd be having caves back, but all that quickly fades when you realise you can cheese the whole level with Oatchi's Rush

Emperor Bulbax, even the Sovereign Bulblax?? they got nothing against a bomb rock and a lvl.3 Mega Rush puppy

in fact, most of the bosses go out like that, you knock them down a bit, rush, rinse and repeat for like...2 cycles maybe 3

i remeber when i was genuinely struggling with the Smoky Progg in 'Cavern for a King until i remembered i could just knock it with Oatchi and that was it; same went for Groovy, the Cannon Beetles and Snagrets

they give you the Lineup Trumpet and and Plucking Whistle upgrades nearly at the end of the game...y'know why?? because at that point they might as well do nothing if you manage to upgrade Oatchi all the way and have a decent amount of spicy sprays (which i didn't even use that much bc i forgot i even had them lol)

and can i just say i didn't like the Auto-Lock function one bit??? bc the fuckin' pointer kept going to the random piece of nectar instead of actually locking on the huge creature about to devour my whole squad

yeah, you can change the lock on, but if you're just trying to charge your pikmin to the treasure and it just won't focus, it becomes very annoying

i said it before, and i'll say it again, there was NO reason to kill the Mamutas AT ALL

they do not deserve that treatment and i was very upset whenever the first one didn't re-spawn :[

genuinely felt bad for the Downy Snagrets too

but yea, that's abt it lol

Obviously I've been enjoying the shit out of Pikmin 4 but it absolutely IS the case that they've nerfed most of the enemies. Kids these days don't even KNOW about getting your shit steam-rolled by (insert beady long legs variation) because there's no lock-on targeting and you're terrible at aiming for aerial enemies--either because you're 10 years old or because you're me, last month, replaying Pikmin 1 and 2, who's still shit at aiming.

Back in my day we didn't have "charge." We didn't have "Oatchi." We didn't have "targeting." We had the c-stick and prayers. We had pikmin massacres set to the comically-dissonant sounds of vigorous and frantic trumpeting. Enemies respawned infinitely. Oh you cleared out the snagret nest in the Forest of Hope? Check again fuckarino. We added MORE enemies, actually, because fuck you. Coddled Pikmin 4 children only know the comfort and ease of traipsing about a land laid silent and soaked in blood. They know only the ambient pressure of absence, the finality of death, the placid nothing of an ecosystem they razed to the ground and which will never return no matter how many days they play. They enjoy the safety of scars and the nothing that follows brutality. Can you rationalize it? Is it fine, because you know your children will enjoy in sheltered complacency that which you've slaughtered and made no more? How can I kill the last downy snagret knowing its kind will never return? How can I justify harm to the mamuta which has wished no harm upon me? He does not return like an old friend the way he does in Pikmin 1. His death benefits no one but the money-hungry, and unlike in Pikmin 2, he will not respawn. How many have I killed in the vainglory pursuit of treasure?

Where was I going with this.

Oh I remembered. They also NERFED the dweevils. Those shits used to be HARD.

[whispering-kavka]

the struggles of today proved to me that i might indeed be a little mentally unwell

[eggmeralda]

spent an hour making a list related to That Fandom, followed by an hour listening to the haunting vibe playlist, followed by an hour reading the fanfic we wrote about my band and crying actual tears bc it's the peak of comedy, followed by an hour thinking about all the things I've ever created that will never be seen by anyone either bc I don't know how to show them to people or bc people just think they're bad but either way I'll never know the true answer, and now it's 10.30pm and I've basically experienced the full spectrum of emotions: autism, existential crisis, silly, and the feeling of being unseen

[succubusvalentine]

I wrote this about Steve Harrington like a year ago but I think it would do great for Simon Riley. CW: size kink, stomach bulge.

Sliding down ever so slowly onto his honestly monstrous cock, your body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, feeling so fucking full and yet not full enough. 

You could barely make out the whiny sounds coming from your throat, nor Simon's gruff praises. All you could hear was the blood rushing through your ears.

All you could feel was the brush of Simon's cock inside your cunt, the pressure on all sides of your inner walls was overwhelming, to say the least. Not to mention the feeling of his cock making a small bulge in your lower tummy. 

Simon's gruff praises ceased when you got about halfway down his cock and the blood in your ears finally started to calm down. All that was left was the delicious sting and ache of his cock stretching you to your limits. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you heard mewls and whimpers far too gruff to be your own. And you were met with Simon looking more desperate than any man you'd ever seen. his hands clawing at your hips, blunt nails leaving red stinging streaks. 

Then you notice the tears running down his cheeks. Broken gasps coming from his chest between whimpers. His dark brown eyes glossy, and struggling to remain open.

You slow your hips, but Simon shakes his head no desperately. "Fu-ck, no love, don't-christ. Don't stop. Keep going f'me" he choked out. Only to be met with your confused and concerned eyes. "Nev-shit, never had-a girl manage to take all o' me" he manages. "guess 'm a-mmmph, bit sensitive lovie" 

Your cunt fluttered at the statement. Which only made Simon gasp and choke out another moan. But you seemed to be taking too long to speed up for Simon's taste. 

Next thing you knew, two thick arms were wrapped around your waist and a mouth was biting down on your neck. Simons hips starting to slam up into you at a pace you went utterly dumb. Your nails clawing at Simon's muscular shoulders. It wasn't Simons fault. You just felt so good, and the lower half of his cock was so sensitive.

Could you blame him for making himself come seven times inside you that night?

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[giannaln4]

I'm Sorry

lando norris x fem reader

summary: A moment of frustration made Lando react the way you never thought he would, and boy, would he regret it.  (1.6k words)

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, mean lando,  fluffy ending

a/n: ok so for this, i decided to go back to Baku and put the quali result in a totally different perspective than my last fic. i guess i kinda like it but i'm not very good at describing arguments 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

ALSO i have an announcement to make and i'm really excited for it :)

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The qualifying this weekend was an absolute mess, to say the least. Lando was hard on himself no matter the result he got. Even if it was good, he would always find something to criticise himself, but P17? Everyone was in for a treat, you thought.

The worst part is that it wasn’t even his fault; it was a stupid mistake by the marshals, and he was not to blame for it. A yellow flag interrupted his lap, and he was immediately kicked out in Q1. 

Seeing the first qualifying session being over with his name in red was not something anyone wanted to see, especially not him, and now that every point was essential, you knew it crushed him.

He came back to the garage to see the rest of the qualifying with his team, and as soon as he got out of the car, you saw how frustrated he was. You understood him, of course, it sucked that this is how the weekend was going, but you would be there for him no matter what.

Once Lando took off his helmet, he headed straight to his driver’s room, and he didn’t even look at you when he walked past. That meant he wanted to be alone, but oh silly you, you decided to follow him.

He let out a loud sight when he heard the door open and close behind him, not really in the mood to hear what you had to say. He knew for a fact you were going to tell him he did well and it wasn’t his fault, which he greatly appreciated, but right now, he just wanted to suffer in peace.

“Baby?” You called him out, just testing the waters, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he hummed in annoyance. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but-”

“You are right, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted you, not even turning around to face you. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned into it, taking a deep breath. 

That should have been your cue to leave the small room and leave him alone, but for some reason you didn’t. “Lando, don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure things will be better tomorrow. We all know what you can do and you still have the race-“

“This is MY job, Y/N. I probably know better than you do,” he snapped, raising his voice and finally turning around. “This is what I’m fighting for, we all are. Do you know what’s at stake here? I finally have the chance to compete for a championship, and I just blew it.”

To say you were astonished was an understatement; this was the first time he ever snapped at you that way and you didn’t know how to react. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“Every point counts, and not even starting in the top 10 tomorrow- fuck, not even top 15, there is not much I can do.” Now, he looked more mad at you than frustrated at himself, and that crushed you. “I came here to be alone for a bit, I was hoping you would at least respect that." You stayed silent, knowing a single sound would make you cry, and you didn’t want to piss him off more than he already was. “I know you are trying to help, but you are not, you can’t.”

You just stared at him, tears threatening to leave your eyes; he had never raised his voice at you in a heated moment, and it hurt like hell. You definitely should have stayed outside. 

He walked towards the door and stepped out of the room without uttering another word, leaving you alone to deal with your own feelings. 

As soon as the door was closed, you started crying. It was your own fault, really; you could always read him like a book, even today, and you knew better than to disturb him when you weren’t supposed to, but today for some reason you just couldn't keep your mouth shut. Idiot.

You tried to calm yourself down; the last thing Lando needed was to see you cry on top of his result, but it was harder than you expected. This being the first time an argument got so out of hand made you feel absolutely terrible, especially because it was your fault. Deep down, you knew he didn’t mean it, you knew it was his feelings talking, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

A few minutes went by and you could still hear the cars out on track, the mumbling of the team, and people constantly working out there, so you tried to use that as a distraction. Anything to take your mind off what just happened. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t help, but at least you ran out of tears, and now you were just staring at a blank wall, thinking how you could begin to apologise for earlier, if he would even give you the chance to. 

Truth is, you weren’t sure if bringing it up again would be a good idea; you wanted to apologise for disrupting his cooldown moment, but what if hearing that made him mad again? Or worse, what if you didn’t apologise and made the situation even bigger? Your spiralling made you lose track of time, and a knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“The car is about to leave, Y/N, they are waiting for you,” you heard someone say on the other side of the door. You were at least hoping Lando would come and get you once it was time to go back to the hotel, but he didn’t.

“Thanks, I will be there in a minute,” you replied, grabbing your things and Lando’s before sprinting outside. 

The car ride was hell. Lando didn’t look at you the entire time; he was just staring at his phone, texting who knows who, his face as neutral as ever. It felt longer than it actually was, and when you finally got there, he just stepped out of the car and didn’t look back. You let out a sigh and followed him, leaving a prudent distance between the two of you. 

Once you were in the hotel room, you both started to get ready for bed, like you usually did, except this time, you didn’t acknowledge each other. 

That was until you were already on your side of the bed and he came out of the bathroom, taking the spot next to you and burying his face on his phone again. The entire time you were building up the courage to say something, anything, now that you decided that apologising was the right thing to do.

“Lando?” You called for him, but again, he just hummed in response. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I should have respected that you just wanted to be alone.”

That’s when it hit him. How could he get so mad at you for trying to make him feel better? 

He dropped his phone and turned to face you, and noticing your sad expression and teary eyes broke him. His eyes softened as guilt washed over him. Why were you apologising when he was the one who reacted like that? But as soon as you looked down at your hands to avoid eye contact and tears started falling down your face again, he felt even worse. 

“Y/N… Baby, I’m so sorry.” He got closer to you, softly taking your cheeks in his hands to get you to look at him. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry I acted like a dick and raised my voice at you,” he stared, wiping your tears away, carefully thinking about what else he could say. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react. Your plan was to apologise and hopefully move on, but now that he was apologising, you didn’t know what to say; you didn’t want him to feel guilty, even though it was his fault you were in that position right now. If only he took a different approach. 

“It wasn’t your fault, okay? You were just trying to help, and I should have appreciated that, you know that I do, I just... I don’t know, there is no excuse for what I did.” But you were still silent and trying to avoid eye contact. “Baby, say something.” 

“Lando, you yelled at me.” You finally replied, your voice a bit muffled by your tears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that, and I promise I’ll never do it again.”

After a minute of silence, you just nodded, which made him let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Okay? I’m sorry, my love.” He pulled you into a hug, your head on his chest as he placed a soft kiss on your head. “I know I was a dick, and I really wish I was nicer about it.”

“It’s okay, I get it; you were frustrated with your result, and I should’ve known better than to interfere with what you were feeling.”

“No, it’s not okay. I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Lando was rubbing your back softly, trying to bring you the comfort you tried to give him earlier. “I love you, and I can’t describe how much I appreciate everything you do for me; I know having to deal with my shit is not easy, so thank you.”

“It’s fine, I mean it.” You looked up at him, locking eyes finally in the entire day. “Just... don’t push me away, okay? And if you do need to be alone, just say it, and I promise I will listen next time.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

He gently placed a hand on your check, rubbing small circles before leaning in for a kiss, one both of you much needed. And with one final ‘I love you’, you feel asleep in his arms.

[portalhan]

⠀ꔫ˚　༝　◌ ⌒⌒ three strikes !

↳ jeongin swears on his life that he's seen something odd between you and felix... exactly three times, in fact, but he needs more concrete proof...

PAIRING: felix lee x gn!reader

FORMAT: one shot

GENRE: college au, friends to lovers, fluff, jeongin third wheeling...

WARNINGS: brief mentions of food and being sick (just the flu bug nothing huge)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

FAE'S NOTES: this is just a little bit half-assed... idk if i have much faith in this and i believe i can do better than this but i'm gonna post it anyway for you guys! please let me know if you have any feedback, my writing muscles have basically atrophied and i need to find my rhythm again TT

jeongin doesn't usually second-guess his closest friends like this, but something has changed. he knows you and felix well enough to know at least that.

you have always been hard to read. you're an independent, reliable sort of person, not outwardly emotional nor needlessly arrogant either—you tend to show your love for your friends through small, quiet gestures. felix, on the other hand, is someone who wears his heart on his sleeve—almost to a fault. always baking extra brownies to gift people, always going the extra mile, always looking on the bright side, even in the darkest of situations. he is as fragile as he is affectionate.

yes, affectionate. that's the word he's been looking for to describe the changes in your friendship with felix. you've been more affectionate. jeongin has always chalked it up to felix's own proclivities rubbing off on you given the sheer amount of time you spend together, but now... he's not so sure it's that simple. there have been three strikes jeongin has kept score of so far.

STRIKE #1

jeongin remembers it was a tuesday, because that's the only day of the week where all three of you shared classes. you would always sit in a row near the back of the class. he has made it a point to memorise both yours and felix's timetables this semester—as do the both of you with him—so he knows you don't usually have prior arrangements before coming to campus. you've always had a tradition of meeting in the lobby before walking to class together as a result.

so, when his phone pings with a message from you saying 'sorry innie, we're gonna be a bit late! pls go to class first, just save us seats', he is immediately struck with confusion. what did you mean, "we"? felix, uncharacteristically, hasn't said a word and it's already 5 minutes shy from when class starts. he always arrives at least 10 minutes before. how strange, jeongin thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to class, incredibly unfamiliar with the circumstance of having to do so on his own for the first time. he just brushes the nagging suspicion off, telling himself it was probably because of some public transport situation that's delayed you both—not something entirely uncommon.

it's about 15 minutes into the class before he sees you. the second he spots felix and you stumbling through the doors, profusely apologising to the professor for your tardiness, though, is when the same sensation of suspicion comes back. as you and felix shuffle to make their way to the seats jeongin saved for you, he can't help but notice your attire. you're wearing an oversized black shirt with some graphic of an anime printed on. jeongin's eyes squint as he stares at it, assuming it must have been a new purchase of yours. but he swears he's seen it before.

when you and felix take your seats and the professors picks up where she left off, felix turns to jeongin and apologises for being late. "we're really sorry jeongin, we owe you one," he quips, before he fishes his laptop out of his bag. the younger boy just shrugs it off as no big deal. plus, he had something else on his mind to worry about than harp on the two of you being late to class.

the dots quickly connect a few moments later in jeongin's head. felix has a shirt just like the one you're wearing. he swears he's seen him wearing it before, just last week when the three of you had gone out for dinner. it's been a shirt of his for years now, so worn down by so many uses that it has bleach stains on the sleeves, despite how much care felix puts into his clothing.

jeongin leans back in his chair and slowly, subtly pushes it back. he steals a glance at your side profile, thankfully without either you or felix noticing. there they were: bleach stains on the sleeves. upon further inspection, the shirt you were wearing looks way too worn out to be a new shirt—he concludes it must be felix's. but why would you wear felix's dank shirt to begin with? it would be weird to ask if that's his shirt you were wearing, so he decides to keep his silence for now.

STRIKE #2

this time, it was jeongin's turn to be late. the three of you had planned a picnic to celebrate the end of the gruelling semester—an idea felix suggested. he wanted it to be a potluck, so the each of you planned to bring something of your own making along.

jeongin wanted to go all out with his: he wanted to bake cupcakes, something felix had recently taught him how to. he wanted to show you his latest endeavours, baked fresh, but he didn't expect it to go sideways so last minute. he ended up showing up almost half an hour late, hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweat and cupcake frosting smeared all over the tupperware he placed them in out of haste.

when he finally spots the two of you amid the grass field at the park, he notices something... odd. he stops in his tracks to catch his breath and squints his eyes to get a better look. if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you two were... holding hands? the sun was glaring directly in his face, obscuring his vision, so jeongin couldn't be 100% sure. but what he does know is that your figures were so close to each other they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. this isn't exactly beyond felix, who is notorious for his habits of physical affection. but it is most certainly out of character for you, as someone who prefers to keep most people at an arm's length.

jeongin shrugs it off. he guesses felix nor he would be considered "most people". perhaps it was a trick of the light. he also doesn't have good enough reason to find it entirely strange—perhaps felix had gotten through to you in that regard. he had bigger things to worry about: your dinner getting cold.

STRIKE #3

the legitimacy of the third time is still up for debate, jeongin surmises. this time it wasn't your behaviour around each other, instead more so about how felix in particular reacted.

this happened over summer break. he remembers the sun being more unrelenting than ever—40 degrees celsius to be exact, he saw on the news—so you three had just decided to hang out in your bedroom, where the air conditioning is the coolest and crispiest (according to you). jeongin vividly recalls you lying on your stomach atop your bed, while the two boys were sprawled on the floor. that is, the carpet that laid over the spot where they would usually sprawl on the floor.

it was one of those 'parallel play' days, as you liked to call them. not necessarily doing things together, but doing separate things in the presence of each other, you said one time. felix was busy on his switch playing some pokemon game, you were scrolling on your phone and jeongin was just seconds away from drifting off to sleep on felix's lap.

it's been silent for, what, almost two hours now? but you end up breaking it first. "woah," you suddenly exclaimed, brows furrowing as you read something on your screen. "do you guys remember seungmin? from calculus?"

jeongin does not move an inch aside from nodding his head, and felix just lets out a little "yeah?" though his eyes were never once peeled from the console screen.

"i think he just asked me out," you tell them, bewildered.

this, of course, elicits reactions of surprise from jeongin and felix. the former lifts himself and sits up to ask details, while the other just turns the switch off—did he even save his progress on the game?—and sits there in silence as he silently watches you and jeongin discuss your classmate's... proposition. jeongin makes a playful jab at how you could have given him the wrong idea by flirting with him, which you immediately shut down. "i've never done anything suggestive to him, i swear!" you exclaimed in full defense.

seungmin has only ever made conversation with you once or twice in class, jeongin recalls. you also never really put in the effort to get to know your other classmates if jeongin and felix were in the same classes. jeongin makes a passing comment about how seungmin could pass as your type (if you squint hard enough), but it falls on deaf ears when you and felix meet each other's gazes.

"you're gonna tell him no, right?" felix suddenly chimes in after moments of prolonged silence, raspy voice cracking just a little. jeongin snaps his head to turn and look at his friend, head tilted and brow lifted. you give felix a look jeongin cannot quite describe, and chuckle with a soft smile as you nod. "of course i'm gonna say no," you assure him. he lets out a very heavy sigh of relief, but none of this goes unnoticed by jeongin.

this is very weird, jeongin remembers thinking. you have always been receptive to potential love interests, even if they weren't necessarily people you'd normally be into. so why are you so sure now that you'd reject seungmin without even giving him a chance?

on that note, what's it to felix who asks you out? why does he have a say? plus, he could've sworn he detected some semblance of... jealousy in his question. but he supposes that could be normal considering all three of you are so used to spending time with each other. jeongin does admit to himself that he'd feel lonely if you were to be whisked away by some stranger out of nowhere. it wouldn't be the same.

jeongin has theories, maybe even concepts of a theory, but no concrete enough proof for confrontation—so far. it looks like he has to wait till he does before he can address the massive elephant in the room.

FINAL STRIKE

it finally happens when he decides to stop by your apartment with take-out. you had told your friends about falling sick the night before—alas, you have caught the flu bug. they were just textbook symptoms like a low-grade fever, sore throat and a runny nose, nothing to worry about in particular, you told them. but jeongin just so happens to pass by your neighbourhood on his usual route home from work, so he decides to drop in with some chicken soup for you as a small surprise. you had already been texting the group chat the entire day about how exhausted you were to make yourself a half-decent dinner, so jeongin thought this would be a nice way to take care of his friend.

he knocks on your door multiple times to no response. maybe you're sleeping? he looks around the potted plants sitting outside your door and lifts the snake plant up, grabbing the rusted spare key tucked away from prying eyes just underneath. he quickly and quietly unlocks the front door and lets himself in. i'll just go in, check on y/n and put this soup on the table, he tells himself as he enters. maybe text you to let you know he got you dinner.

that is, until a warm aroma of what he believes to be fresh bolognese wafts to where he is at the front door. he hears the distant clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and—strangest of all—he hears... conversation? he can definitely hear you talking and even giggling, but he can't quite make out who the other person was. he's about 99% sure there was someone else in here, but could it be just a phone call? he sneaks down the hallway to the kitchen, the noises getting clearer as he inches closer. when he sticks his head out from a blind corner to peek into the kitchen, he sees it: felix plating a fresh bowl of spaghetti while you're sitting on the dining table engaged in idle chatter. a lump catches in his throat—what is felix doing here? and most importantly, why didn't he know of this? he felt momentarily betrayed.

jeongin just stands there in silence, unsure of how to confront you, while you and felix continue chatting. it's only when felix sets down two plates of pasta and goes in to plant a peck on your cheek does jeongin yelp in shock, which frightens all three of you.

felix squints his eyes, which widen in utter disbelief when he recognises the familiar facade lurking by the corridor. "jeong...in?" he asks, voice trembling a little from disbelief. when he says jeongin's name, you shoot him a similar look, but this one is more panicked and afraid. jeongin awkwardly steps out within view, but he puts a hand up to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming. he raises the other arm to point an accusatory finger at the both of you. you swear you just heard felix gulp next to you.

"i..." jeongin sputters. "i knew it! i knew something was going on between you two idiots!"

the verbalisation of his revelation is what completely opens the floodgates, causing the entire place to erupt in complete and utter chaos. jeongin paces back and forth with the chicken soup still dangling from his fingers as he rants about how he's caught you doing "weird stuff" a couple of times but couldn't have known, about how he's been feeling a little left out recently, how you have been looking at felix funny sometimes. meanwhile, felix just begins to talk over him with near-equal (if not more) amounts of sheer panic and distress, reaching out to him to get him to calm down while explaining that this wasn't how they had intended for him to find out.

you, crippled by the shock from jeongin's unexpected appearance, just sit there, unable to do much of anything what with your flu, just silently watching felix and jeongin form a panic attack circle jerk in your own house.

"enough!" jeongin raises his voice, which immediately shuts felix up. jeong has never raised his voice. you shoot felix a nervous look.

"i thought we were best friends," jeongin utters, the slightest hint of melancholy lacing his voice. he looks offended. you've never seen him look this offended, not even when he was accused of academic misconduct that one time. "i'm happy for you, ecstatic even! i swear i am, but really? why would you keep this for me for so long?"

you decide you should talk to him—felix is very clearly out of his depth when it comes to handling intense situations like this and he's only making jeongin feel worse with all the jabbering. you stand up from your seat on the table and walk over to him, taking your hands in his.

"i'm sorry, jeongin. we... we weren't entirely sure of how we were gonna do this," you tell him, almost in a whisper.

felix scratches the back of his neck, avoiding any and all eye contact with either of you. "we wanted to keep it quiet," he admits. "at first, at least."

you nod in agreement, and turn back to look at jeongin. "you were going to be the first person we would break the news to. not even our own parents, i swear," you divulge, while you spot felix in the corner of your eye making a silent crossed hearts gesture to double down on his sincerity. jeongin's once-tense features start to ease up a bit, but not entirely. "you are our best friend. we never want you to feel like this. we're sorry," you assure him, before pulling him into a bear hug. you feel felix join from behind you to make it a group hug.

"i don't care what you guys have going on, but don't keep any more secrets from me. got it?" your friend huffs after you all pull back, feigning some sort of authority. felix chuckles at how ridiculous he sounds—being the youngest of the three, the tone just sounds alien when it comes from him. "we would never," felix tells him, reaching out to give jeongin a firm pat on the back. "i think y/n might like you more than me anyway, they're always going, 'we should call jeongin! we should send him a photo! we should—"

your palm slaps against the lower half of your boyfriend's face in protest. "we might be dating but you're on thin ice," you glare at him, before he raises both hands to surrender.

jeongin jovially chimes in to break the tension: "can i just say, i've always felt like you'd get along. aren't you glad i introduced you to each other? you wouldn't be a thing if it weren't for me, ya know." felix and you just huff in response—he can have this.

[badbugbotblood]

WH- ME? And my tiny account? Getting tagged in something neat out of the blue? Well I'll be!

(pspspsps @king-candybug-backup)

As for my results:

A perfect 50/50 split between these two, which on the surface level does make sense.

Hey everyone!

I just made a Core Four-themed personality quiz!

@bashfulgnome

@thebluejetpack

@sadboytristan

@sgtcalhouns

@junkkey

@badbugbotblood

@speared-mint

@wreckitralphrestart

@wreck-it-hell

@ask-icancraft-it

@therockyroadster

@randomalistic

Reblog this post with your results!

[shouyuus]

sry sry blame @vifilms for showing me a pic of vi's back and now i can't stop thinking about just... lying behind her, or even sitting over top of her waist, tracing your fingers gently over the shape of her back tattoo as she lies on her stomach, her cheek pillowed over her crossed hands.

"these are beautiful..." you say.

she chuckles, "i guess they are but... i didn't feel beautiful when i got them."

you run your index finger along the light curls of powder blue smoke.

"doesn't make them any less so."

she laughs again, shifting slightly beneath you, letting her eyes fall shut. and as you run your fingers down each of the designs, she begins to talk --

"i had two brothers once, too -- i dunno if i ever told you that."

you shake your head, before realizing that she can't see.

"no, you haven't. i thought powder -- jinx -- was your only sibling."

vi hums, "yeah, we had the same mom and dad but mylo and claggor... they were family too."

your eyes drop to the pair of twin keys notched at the base of her spine, the teeth carved into the shapes -- m and c. you touch them gently and she shivers.

"down in the lanes... family just means the people you watch out for, and the people who watch out for you."

you laugh, walking the tips of your fingers up the length of her spine, tracing the dark cogs that turn against her skin.

"i think that's how family works everywhere, vi. you're born with one... and as you grow up... you can choose another one."

her eye peaks open as she glances at you over her shoulder, her gaze impossibly soft.

"yeah... guess so..." she shifts slightly beneath you as you trace up to the swirls of blue smoke twisting over her shoulders.

"and i'm guessing these are for..."

"jinx," vi answers, her voice faraway, "or i guess... she was still powder to me then."

you draw your fingers along the bends and curves of smoke, before you trace over each of the dark mechanical lines running over her shoulders and down the backs of her arms.

"and... these?"

vi sighs, "those were... reminders, i guess. when i was -- in stillwater... there's only so much you can do to keep yourself sane in there. and... i guess i just wanted a way to prove to myself that i could still... feel something. and..." a small laugh escapes her, "i thought that if i could ink these metal cogs and spires on my skin that maybe... somehow, i could be stronger, harder, less..."

her voice is bone-porcelain thin.

you lean down to press your lips to the nape of her neck.

"breakable?" you offer.

she puffs out a breath.

"stupid, isn't it?"

you kiss down the slopes of her shoulder, ghosting fingers behind the warmth of your lips. you shake your head so she feels you against her.

"not at all."

"and... powder always seemed to love her mechanical toys so much that i thought... well --" her voice shudders for half a second before it breaks, and she clears her throat, turning to bury her face in her arms, sighing into the soft linens of the bed below.

"that maybe... if you made yourself a bit more like them..." you say, pressing your cheek to her bare skin, "that... she might love you like she used to?"

vi makes a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a sigh. she doesn't turn, but her shoulders shrug up ever so slightly as she answers --

"or... forgive me... just a little."

you hum against her skin.

"will it help if i told you that it's not your fault?"

that makes her laugh, and she shifts just enough to peer up at you from beneath her dark lashes.

"it took me a while to get there, but i... i think i've forgiven myself for it... most of it, at least."

you feel her tap your thigh, and you lift up just enough for her to twist around. you grin as she settles you over her hips again, running warm palms along your legs, up to the bend of your waist, a loped grin slung lazily across her lips.

"good," you say, leaning down for a brief kiss. she groans against you, biting down on your lower lip. "anything i can do to help with the rest?" you ask, pulling away just far enough for her to dig her fingertips into the plush of your hips.

vi's eyes flicker, and her smile goes snake-bitten and sweet before she rucks you down over her hips and a gasp stitches out of you.

"sure... i think i've got a few... ideas."

[brooke121000]

bad cooking • spencer reid

a teeny tiny blurb in which, during a playful argument, reader injures herself in the kitchen. bf!spencer proceeds to tend to her small wound and (lightly) lecture her.

warnings: sharp things, brief desc of injuries/blood

a/n: is it a problem all my writing has been food related lately?

———————————౨ৎ———————————-

“You do not have an oral fixation.” Spencer said firmly, chopping the tomatoes.

“You know what-“ you sighed. “I think that I do!” 

Before long, Spencer had chopped the vegetables and dumped them in the pot, the soothing smell of vodka pasta in the making filling your kitchen.

“Freuds theories are highly debatable. He himself was severely mentally ill- trusting him for advice on child development would be like.. trusting an eighteenth century plague doctor to administer a vaccine.” He chided, watching you strain out the pasta.

“Still, he was a pioneer in neuroscience-“ you retaliated. “He made his theories the same way anyone else did.. pattern recognition! You have to admit there’s at least some validity to the ego and the ID.”

He sighed, turning up the heat on the pan. 

“You have been biting your nails all night because you have an anxiety disorder and one too many glasses of wine- not because you were neglected.”

“I was formula fed! Don’t you think that might be the reason-“” You said, your tone rising a bit. Shaky hands navigated to the drawer, pulling out a large kitchen knife and grabbing a bulb of garlic from the basket.

“Okay, maybe I just need some alcohol. You know- you’re too stubborn for your own good.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Now-“ you turned to meet his gaze, and- in your emotion, fumbled with the knife. “I think that’s..”

He winced when he saw your wound- “you’re bleeding.” 

“What?”

As soon as you looked down, your brain became cognizant to the pain. Red hot pain shooting up your arm, crimson pooling on the side of your index finger and dripping onto the cutting board, defiling the garlic.

You huffed in frustration. “Ow! You distracted me, I wouldn’t have-“

He smiled, grabbing a paper towel. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on the side of your cheek and wrapping your finger, applying pressure.

“We don’t.. need to argue about whose fault it is.”

“Well..” you pouted. “I totally ruined the garlic.”

“The pasta is fine, I promise you onion is perfectly satisfactory. Anyway, it’s almost done.”

He trailed off down the hall, coming back with a bandaid. He wrapped it tight around your finger, oaken eyes meeting yours as you wrinkled your nose at the stinging sensation. “Better?”

“..I guess. Still mourning that garlic.”

“The pasta-“ he sighed. “Is just fine.” Grabbing a forkful straight from the pot, he placed a hand underneath and held it up to you. “Here. For your oral fixation.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, tentatively taking a bite. The soothing tomato flavor calmed your nerves, as did his hand on yours. 

“Wow.. not bad.”

[hiddenlife-manager]

you should totally write a one shot about ollie bearman x reader celebrating the jeddah gp (smut)

Oliver Bearman x Fem Reader

cw... blowjob, jerking him off, whimpering ollie, slight sub ollie, slight dom reader, best friends, plot, etc...

notepad... WELL I finally finished this there are a lot of errors but oh well. I have been stuck on this for a while so thank god it is done. Amen to me hehe.

You two were sitting on the floor of his room; it was an abnormally big room. He was used to small hotel rooms, yet here you two were eating at a coffee table on the floor since you refused to sit on a chair. His hands rested on his neck as he felt nothing but pure soreness from the race. He acted like it didn’t bother him during his post-interviews; it was clear he was worn down from the race.

“If you are sore, you should lay down on the bed.” You were calmly speaking to him, eating Dajaj Mashwi with manakeesh, as it was what he ordered. It seemed to be his favorite meal here; you were unsure if you were supposed to eat it with manakeesh. "Besides, having to face an average of 4.5 g per turn is difficult on the neck. Saudi Arabia is considered a hard circuit to race in Formula 1. You should rest.”

“I should eat… ugh.” His deep voice stated that he was trying to eat, but it was clear that he struggled to move his body. He was extremely sore; you saw this and crawled to him on all fours. The sight of you crawling toward him made his face suddenly go red. You were breathtaking to him, but he knew it was wrong to think so.

"Here, let me help.” You offered, you brought food to his mouth, and he was left in shock that you were trying to feed him. He took a deep breath and looked at you. “I'm your best friend; this is the least I can do. Consider it a gesture of congratulations.” He couldn’t help but hold a rosiness to his cheek, as you wanted to feed him. He opened his mouth and looked at you. He noticed your breast slightly peeking out of your top, and he gulped with food in his mouth. He suddenly choked and coughed, and you were shocked. “How do you choke so easily?” You handed him a bottle of water while he coughed.

“I d-don’t” He stuttered out and sipped the water. He looked at you and went back to the food. Why was he holding such feelings for you right now? You two should be celebrating his debut, and yet here he was nervous, unable to look you in the eye. “My neck is just sore.”

“Hmm, okay. Are you sure it is just your neck that has you all worked up?” He tried to crawl away from you casually so you wouldn’t notice his awkwardness. As he used his hands to scoot away from you, he realized how much it hurt. 

“Did you hear a knock at the door?” He attempted to distract you from seeing his boner in his pants. You turned your head, and as you did, his hands flew, grabbing onto a pillow and placing it on his lap. You shook your head, sure that you didn’t hear a knock. “I guess my head is playing games with me.” He laughed awkwardly, his hands at the collar of his shirt, pulling it a bit as the pillow continued to sit on his lap. 

"Oh, really, are you okay? Let me check your temperature.” You got closer and leaned toward him with your hand, and his face got redder. “You are red as a tomato.” You state that right as you were about to land your hand on his forehead, he shifted. You fell on top of him. The moment you did, you felt something poking at your ass. 

“Mhm…” You froze, and that was the moment your face got super hot. 

“I am so sorry.” You said you tried to crawl off his lap and managed to pull another moan out of him. You were hot; the sound was so sudden, and you were unaware that you had that effect on him. 

“No, it's my fault.” He tried to hide his red face, and you were hot to the touch. Staring at your best friend, you realized he had some sort of attraction to you. He shifted uncomfortably, and you wanted to help, maybe out of your own disgusting fantasy or maybe to show him it wasn’t wrong.

“I can help.” He suddenly fell back as he was scooting away. He started to stutter. You crawled to him and placed your hands on his jeans. You always told him to wear better pants. “Is it okay if I can?” He was silent for a bit while you froze, waiting for his response, and in a few seconds, he nodded sheepishly, unable to look you in the eye. 

You unzipped his pants, your hands working quick wonders; it was no secret you knew what to do. At the same time, you two were grown adults with significant others. You gulped as you moved his cock to the side of his boxers through the hole. He was hard, and it was very evident. Ollie was trying so hard to hold back small whimpers of pleasure as your cold hands touched his bare cock. 

“Can I?” He nodded quickly, and you began to go up and down his cock, using his pre-cum to slightly get his cock a bit moist. After you went up and down from the base, you gently spit on his cock and smiled up at him. Your mouth got close, and you licked the tip as you heard him moan and slightly shifted away from the pleasure. He was embarrassed but wanted you to continue. 

“You can put it in your mouth.” He whimpered out, and all you did was smile so much as you opened your mouth and let him inside your mouth only a little at a time as you went up and down, inching his cock slowly down your throat. The view left Ollie winded; he thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist, and you were his best friend. 

Slowly but surely, you began to suck at his cock, your tongue swirling around it as you saw and heard him whimpering. Attempting not to put his hands on you. He was unsure what to do with his hands, as he almost had to put them anywhere but you. Sucking him while bobbing your head up and down, you used your free hand and grabbed it, holding it as you continued to pleasure him. He was clearly nervous, and you knew he needed comfort. The feeling in your mouth was becoming too much. 

He began to thrust up into your mouth; doing so, he ended up thrusting into the back of your throat, causing you to gag, and he began to get nervous, but you shook your head and continued to swirl your tongue and go up and down. As you removed yourself from his cock, a pop could be heard, and you let go of his hand, staring up at him. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and pumped him. 

“You can cum on my face, Ollie; I don't mind.” You said it softly, with a smile brighter than the sun staring right at him. He was weak and could barely utter a word, but he wanted so badly to cough. His cock thrust into your hands as they felt so perfect. All he did was hum with a whimpering undertone. You continued to go up and down with your hands, quickening the pace as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. 

“Ah, close, too close." He moaned out, and right when he let the last moan out, a long whimper could be heard, and white strings up and down hit your face and tongue. You didn’t stop pumping his cock; his body tensed while he was cumming. You were smiling and licking at the tip of his cock. 

“Congratulations in Saudi Arabia; a gift to you from me, Ollie.”

[starfishstark]

PRINCESS AND THE SITH

NOTE guys this prompt got a hold of me, so blame @ofstarsandvibranium for the midnight horrible writing

WARNINGS 1.6K words, violence, death of a non-MC, smut (you freaks), lots of religious imagery and refrences to Qimir being god-like (he is)

PAIRING qimir x princess! reader

you and young jedi qimir fall in love when he's guarding you as a member of the royal family. you're stricken away from each other in the name of duties and responsibilities, and the love is thought to be a lost cause to you...until you see him again, holding a vibrant red saber to the throat of your betrothed.

Oh my stars, he was just as beautiful as the day he left. Even with grim over his face, and sweat glistening over his skin. The red reflected off of him in a way that she could only compare to heavenly. Oh what a horrible idea…

It was just a mistake, that was all. As a kid, she should have known she couldn’t have grown close to any Jedi. As a teenager, she should have recognized her faults, and moved past them. Not whatever happened between them then, puppy innocent love. Nothing tainted, nothing impure, simply just a love that bloomed between them, first love. 

But it could never meant to be. She knew she had to grow into her royal duties, one day marry into a rich royal family somewhere out there to settle down and provide heirs for that family as she wasn’t the eldest.

And Qimir…he was a Jedi. He could never have that without forsaking what he has stood for all his life. So once the threat on the royals’ lives had ended, he was sent away. And she never thought of him again…

That was completely false, by the way. It was like every waking second after his departure was spent in reminiscence of him. 

Every lesson became a guess if he would like the subject or not. Every lonely stroll became a daydream about his presence. Every late night was spent wishing he was there guarding her room from the inside, holding her in warrior strengthened arms and confessing the sweet love he had for her. 

As time washed past, the remembrance faded away, until the impending face of reality dawned upon her. There was no point in wishing over something she would never have, something that wouldn’t serve her people. 

She had a royal duty to be bound elsewhere and provide heirs. It was time she forgot about the boy that only stayed weeks, but occupied her mind for years.

But he stood here, grinning like a madman, but at least he was grinning.

“Qimir?” She asked softly, not daring to guess if it was him or not. 

The guard took her by the arm, pulling her away, "Princess, you need to step away. Our priority is getting you to safety—”

“What do you mean- oh.” 

She saw it, the reason he was grinning so widely. In his arms he held the man she was meant to marry in the crook of his elbow, squeezing the neck so tightly that the eyes started to bulge out, but her eyes stayed focused on the sheer mass of muscle he displayed. He wore white…white, like her husband was supposed to on the wedding day. White, and red that made him glow in her eyes. 

“Qimir, what is this?”

“I read…” He started off, clearly his throat, trying to soften his voice. “I read about your laws and traditions, princess…” He glanced off at the man he was currently strangling, holding the end of a small dagger like saber, to his head, a look full of disgust and malice. “And this idiots’ laws too…If I kill him off, I get his wife or his kingdom…and to your laws, all you need to provide is a backup heir for your kingdom…it doesn’t matter who the father is.”

“Of course it does, it needs to be of royal blood,” She answered simply, face and thoughts going more and more blank the longer she spent in his presence. He was really here, and it was flattering he wanted to marry her, but really it could never work out he was a Jedi-

The red saber stared back at, as if taunting her to continue her thoughts. 

No, no, ok, makes sense, he’s a Jedi anymore, but…if he wasn’t Jedi, what was he?

Qimir cocked an eyebrow and smirked at the ministry to her right. “Is that so?”

The Ministry looked down in shame. “No, you are wrong princess…He…he is right. The father does not matter if at least the mother is in direct blood of the throne.”

Her face dropped, looking at them equally with shame and a repulsion, and then panicking, looking suddenly at her fiance’s impending death in the eyes. “Wait, wait, Qimir, don’t be rash, we don’t have to kill him, you’ll enable an entire army of attacks, think rationally here-”

“Oh princess…” He crooned, a glaze in his eyes that never left her, not even for a second. He tilted his head, turning her fiance in tow with him. “Shh…If it’ll hurt, you can close your eyes this time. This isn’t the first time I’ve killed for you…and it won’t be the last either. Shhh, sh…close your eyes.”

“You…you can’t do this,” She tried again stupidly. 

“Yes, yes I can…” he whispered, voice impossibly soft when the subject was the murder of a royal in front of her, her supposed fiance… well not anymore, a little voice in her head cooed, sounding impossibly like Qimir in that moment. 

“Just close your eyes, princess, nothing to see here…the wedding will commence like normal…and nothing will come between us again.”

“Qimir, please, he’s innocent,” She whispered, tears springing in her eyes.

“Princess, c’mon now, don’t make this more difficult for yourself…close your eyes, and cover your ears.”

She glanced at the man she was strangling, taking a full moment to beg for forgiveness in herself, before she turned around closing her eyes and covered her ears. She thought she could practically feel Qimir’s grin resonating around her, and the second her ex-fiances’ body hit the floor. After a moment of silence, a hand rested at her shoulder, turning her around. 

Qimir’s handsome face tugged at her heartstrings, even when she knew that the hands he touched her so softly with were stained with blood. His eyes were alike to a puppy, with hope filling a spark in them that she would marry him and they could love again, the love that never truly fades. His hair framed his face, since when was it that long? Oh she hadn’t seen him in that long.

“Ready to get married, princess?”

__

After the marriage, no one really dared to come near him after he so simply beheaded the heir to a million count kingdom. Suffice to say, no one would bother them for a while…especially during their wedding night. When he had face pushed against the pillow while he took his time learning his way around her body once again. 

“When I-” He cut off with a sharp thrust that rendered her useless under him, whining some nonsense about how good everything felt, “saw the wedding announcement, princess, I nearly killed him that night. Almost consumed him in the force itself, that bastard, trying to take what’s mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours, Qimir, I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh, it’s ok, princess, I’m not mad at you,” he crooned into her ear, his nose tracing a line up and down her neck in comfort as he forced himself further into her, the mess dripping onto the bedsheets and down her thighs. “You didn’t have a choice, you thought you had to do it…I know you would have chosen me if you could, oh poor baby, you thought you were all alone…”

His voice was so soft onto her, like velvet that soothed all the cuts left behind by the years he wasn’t there. “It’s ok… I’m here now, princess…”

She gasped softly when he pulled out just to thrust all the way in again, his fingers coming up to push her head back into the mattress, forcing her hips higher and straightening back out. “Stars, princess, I dreamed of this so much when I didn’t have you…did you dream of me?”

“Almost every night, Qimir, missed you so much,” She blabbed, feeling tears peak at her eyes with how long he was dragging this out. “Please, please, please, need you, need you now, please—”

“Shhh, shh, baby, maybe if it’s easier, you should close your eyes,” He whispered, a mockery of the circumstances before their wedding, sending a shiver involuntarily down her shoulder. “I know what you need, just-” he thrusted again, pressing a spot inside her that made her see stars “-relax.”

She practically melted in his grip, while he breathed heavily above her, the sound like a symphony to heaven’s gates to her. Like pure bliss exploding on her skin, ever second he was with her. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, princess, baby, you love me too, don’t you? Stars, I did this all for you, I fucking love you.”

“I love you, I love you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou-” The phrase became a mantra on her tongue, a prayer that died the second he started to move on her. Prayers were answered, an alter laid before her. He had the wings of an angel, and the eyes of the devil when he peered at her with such power laid in his hands. His blood-streaked hands, like the acceptance of a sacrifice, sacrifice in her name, if he was god, what does that make her? The worship he gave to her, laying practically at her feet, jumping down from his pedestal for a touch of mortality from her lips, and the dangers of being young forever when they touched. 

“You’re mine, princess, no other dirty prince will ever touch you,” He whispered to her, and she knew she believed in faith when his words rang like truth itself in her core. 

When they both finished, he laid next to her, curling her hair behind her ear and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, each one like sunlight on her skin. She knew what it was like to be touched by a god. 

[forzarma]

makeup disaster

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando Doing your makeup on stream what could possibly go wrong?

warnings:haven’t proofread 😞

You joined Lando while he was streaming last week, and both of you were playing a game. Well, you lost, which means you’re gonna let him do your makeup on his next stream.

Both of you sat, and you got your makeup essentials that you’re gonna have to use for this stream, hoping Lando wouldn’t freestyle your face considering the fact he doesn’t know anything about makeup.

“Hello chat,” he said while looking at the computer, “so apparently I’m doing your makeup,” giving a cheeky smile.

“I’m regretting this already, omg,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Anyways, first thing, I guess primer ’cause you have been nagging about killing me if I don’t put it first,” Lando said.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

He started tapping your face aggressively.

“Ouch, Lando,” you said, giving him a stern look.

“I’m trying, okay?” he said, looking at you innocently.

“Anyways, I think we need to use this,” he said while holding your foundation and your beauty blender.

He blended your foundation, and you were thanking god that he was doing good for now. Well, your happiness didn’t last long when you saw him taking your setting powder and putting it over your face.

“Wait, Lando—“ you were trying to tell him he should put concealer, but all you heard was “SHUSH.” You gave him a literal side-eye.

And then he had the audacity to put concealer after what the hell????

Looking at the mirror, all you could see is your cakey face.

He opened your eyeshadow palette and took a bright blue and started putting it over your eyes.

Then he picked your blush, PAINTED your face with it, making you look like a tomato.

Then he got the liquid eyeliner and hummed, “this is interesting,” and decided to literally act like your eyes are drawing papers.

He gave his attention to the chat, reading it, and people saying that’s not how he should put things, just for him to say, “nah, y’all are just wrong, I know what I’m doing.”

He took the lip liner, he put it on your lips, and gloss.

“Alright chat, that’s the finished look,” he said, looking proud as if he did an achievement.

“You did terrible, Lando,” you said, looking at him.

“You know, I did good, better than you do,” he muttered.

“Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this stream and don’t fall in love with my makeup skills ’cause,” he said, smirking, then he ended the stream.

After ending the stream, Lando turned to you with a cheeky grin. "Alright love, let me help get that makeup off you. Can't have you walking around looking like a clown all night!" 

You playfully hit his arm. "Whose fault is that?" You retorted with a laugh. Lando gently took a makeup wipe and started dabbing at your face, his touches soft and caring as he removed the remains of his "artwork." 

"There we are, much better." He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You felt yourself getting lost in his stare, all thoughts of the disastrous makeup attempt melting away. 

Suddenly , you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Lando made a small noise of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, cupping your cheek tenderly as he kissed you back. The spark between you that had been building for so long was finally igniting. 

When you finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Well, I may not be able to do makeup but at least I know how to do that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled, feeling giddy and light. It seemed the stream had ended on a much sweeter note than anticipated. Your "punishment" had turned out to be quite the reward after all.

[txt-trash]

clever girl | choi soobin

summary: you’ve only ever viewed choi soobin as your rival in school. he was cute and sweet at times but for the most part he usually acted cold toward you—or at least tried to. out of nowhere you hear about his grades dropping and in an effort to save your only motivation to push yourself harder, you accept his persistent offer to tutor him. you quickly learn he had an ulterior motive to always get you to spend time with him and despite how mean you think you might be, Soobin loved it.

➣ college au, smüt, fluff, enemies to lovers [but it’s one-sided]

➣ academic rival!soobin x f!reader [she/her, afab]

➣ 13.8k words

warnings: smut. oc is kinda mean to soobin. soft jealousy scenes. soobin asks oc to tutor him. really clingy. super cute. the smut is… nashty lowkey. heavy on foreplay. oral [both receiving]. handjöb. oc sits on his face. virgin soobin/experienced oc. oc gets jealous at times too. oc is kinda possessive. sub/dom themes but I swear soobin is a switch. breastplay. missionary. no condom. a lot of plot. multiple orgasm. soobin got that cream im sorry. soobin is a known perv. oc got big boobs. soobin is very obviously a boob guy. oc is lowkey dom, aftercare bc soobin cries. oc calls him a perv, dirty talk. soobin is best boy but also brattiest boy.

You never considered yourself a particularly smart person. You weren’t gifted — as teachers would say — but you weren’t dumb either. You rode the fine line of somewhere in between but you also studied your ass off to get good grades so you could get a scholarship to the college of your dreams. It’s for that reason specifically that Choi Soobin drives you absolutely insane.

You’ve known him for two years but not close enough to consider him a friend. If anything you consider him the opposite of a friend. For the past two years he’s been your number one contender in class. He’s really smart, like book smart but lately he’s been plummeting his grades and that only seems to piss you off more. He’s the reason why you would push yourself so hard to be number one but now that he’s barely trying it’s not as fun. You’re a competitive person.

So, when he approached you today asking you if you could please tutor him you seriously stopped to think about it. If you tutored him then you could possibly have your competition back but tutoring him would also mean having to help him and he did not need your help. You knew he was smart enough to learn things on his own and he’s just in some sort of stump.

“Why don’t you hire one of those expensive tutors I know you can afford?” You asked him after pondering on it for damn near two minutes. You stood just outside the library where he had practically ambushed you before you could make it inside the building.

Soobin was one of those rich guys you weren’t so fond of. He had money, he didn’t have to work hard to get good grades and he could afford to go to any school he wants to while you have to work double as hard to do anything. Or course it’s not his fault but for him to ask you to tutor him when you know for a fact he doesn’t need you to just really bothers you.

He looked a bit lost by what you said, looking a bit bored like you’re the one holding him up instead of the other way around, “I don’t know, I figured you could help me out since we’re in the same major.”

You huffed out in annoyance, “Am I going to get paid?”

His eyes widened just slightly but you couldn’t if he was in surprise or in disbelief, “I guess, however much you want, I need the help.”

A small sigh left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “No you don’t, but whatever, if you pay me, I’ll think about it.”

“Can I get your number then?” Soobin asked, already taking his phone out. You didn’t say anything as you typed in your number and before he could say anything else, you left for the library.

He watched you leave without a smile on his face, keeping up his unamused act until you turned your back to him and his lips couldn’t help but curl up in a smile. Soobin knows it’s a bit weird for him to ask you to tutor him. You’re just one year younger than him but you take most of the same classes so he figured you were his best option.

And also… maybe he dropped his grades on purpose to have an excuse to talk to you but that’s something he’ll never admit to your face.

It all started two years ago. He had already been in school for a year or so and he was just soaring by. You were right when you said he could just hire some expensive tutor to help him but he never really needed it. He was book smart even though sometimes he lacked common sense in the real world. Growing up he had it all, tutors, piano lessons, private schooling, et cetera. He was a smart kid all the way until his third year of University.

Well… he’s still smart but things are different now. He’s spent the last two years practically racing you in classes you shared to do better like that would impress you but it didn’t work. Then, he tried being cold to you like you were to him but he could never do it right. It only seemed to push you away and after a while he realized the only reason why he did it was because he wanted to get a rise out of you. You just won’t notice him no matter how hard he tries to get you to and if this is the only way he’ll get you to talk to him more then he’s going to do it.

“So, did it work?” Kai asked, walking up behind Soobin and scaring the life out of him. Soobin released a loud yell that heads turning in his direction but he barely notice as he whipped around to face his friend, “Did what work?”

“Your little scheme to get Y/n to talk to you,” Kai said as he walked toward the library with Soobin on his tail, “What scheme?”

Kai stopped and gave him that look that told Soobin the gig was up, “You’ve been working on this for weeks now, you think I wouldn’t notice? You used to tutor me and now you’re saying you need to get tutored by the one person who seems to want nothing to do with you?”

Soobin cut in front of him to reach the door first as he swung it open, “No clue what you’re talking about. I’ve been struggling in class lately, probably stress over the internship this summer.”

“Right…” Kai rolled his eyes following his friend into the library, “Or the stress of getting ignored by Y/n no matter how hard you try. It’s been two years, pack it up already.”

“How do you know Y/n ignores me?” He asked getting into the elevator with his friend to get to the next level where more computers and desks were. Kai shrugs, “I mean it’s pretty obvious.”

It took days for you to get back to him and he waited anxiously to see what you would say. He didn’t want to blow up your phone because he had a cold image to uphold but every time his phone dinged he checked if it was you. By the third day he had almost given up hope until the simple text you sent nearly made him burst into a million fireworks.

you: meet me outside the library tomorrow

He got there earlier than intended but he acted like he didn’t. He had done at least two laps around the tall building just waiting for you to arrive and when you did, you said nothing to him. You only walked into the building and headed straight to the elevators like he wasn’t even there.

“It’s raining.”

Jesus Christ.

So stupid, Soobin thought as he turned away from you. This is what happens when he tries to make small talk with someone who sort of hates him. He still doesn’t get why you don’t like him much but he assumes it has something to do with your grades. You’re both art majors and have to take similar prerequisites so you see each other a lot. You’re both also at the top of the department and practically battling for the same summer internship so he thought taking a step back might’ve made you happier but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

You looked at him for a second and when he wondered if you would say something you just looked back down at your phone like he wasn’t even there. This elevator ride felt like it would never end. He knows it’s only been a few seconds but it feels so suffocating.

“Did you change up your hair? It looks good,” he said cautiously and you finally looked at him again. He didn’t expect a thank you or anything but maybe a smile.

All he got was; “Why are you talking to me?”

“It was like this last time we talked,” you finally said and looked forward again.

The elevator dinged and he released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in until he was off. The two of you walked down the hall with you a couple paces ahead of him in complete silence.

Suddenly you turned around to face him as he stumbled back a step in surprise when you said, “I like the black hair, it’s different from the blonde.”

He absentmindedly touched his hair as a smile grew on his face, “Thank you.”

Your brows furrowed, surprised that he was even smiling at you. Usually he acts just as cold to you as you do to him and that’s why you barely acknowledge him nowadays. You knew he wasn’t a bad guy but he always had a smug face when he came out on top in class and it drove you insane. He would even laugh sometimes when you would stumble over your words during a presentation and make fun of you, not even caring if you heard or not.

Of course you didn’t know he was giggling because he found you so cute even when you made mistakes.

Soobin happily followed you to an empty table, just happy to be there and ignored the hand you had outstretched to motion for him to sit across from you just so he could sit next to you instead.

You just looked at him unamused as his smile dropped, “What? How am I supposed to see what we’re doing if I’m sitting all the way over there?”

You released a sigh, “Alright, did you bring your last exam?”

Soobin nodded his head, reaching into his huge backpack to retrieve his laptop and work. He quickly opened his laptop and got onto the school website app to find his most recent Psychology exam. He knew you were in that class too even if you took it at different times [he only signed up because of you and got the time wrong].

You looked at his laptop where a fat 65/100 score was typed in red that made you gasp, “Soobin?! How?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “I’ve been stressed, can’t pay attention well.”

Soobin was looking at you with soft eyes, unable to help himself from looking over what you wore today. He hasn’t seen you all day aJust as you opened your mouth to scold him, a high pitched feminine voice cut you off, “Binnie?”

You both turned in your seats, a cute brunette with hair just above her shoulders dressed in a cute coquette style smiled at him sweetly, “I thought I recognized you.”

You knew her well too, you used to call her Soobin’s little sidekick in a class you shared last semester. She always followed him around complimenting him over every little thing he did and laughing at all his jokes, even the ones that weren’t funny.

“Hi Jia,” Soobin said as he looked back down at his laptop. Jia smiled before sliding her gaze over to you, “Hi Y/n.”

“Hey.”

She cleared her throat, “So, Soobin, good thing I found you, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’re free any time soon.”

“Um,” Soobin look at you, “For what?”

“Oh!” Jia blushed, “Um, I’ve been having software problems and I know you’re a game wizard so I figured you might know how to fix it.”

She already had her laptop out and you watched as she pulled up a chair from a different table to sit on his other side and he looked just as taken back to be sandwiched between the two of you now. Soobin didn’t say anything as he took her laptop once she showed him what’s wrong and he hurried to fix it. His lips were parted in concentration yet his dimples still showed and you couldn’t help but look at him over. You never once thought Soobin was ugly, he had to be one of the most attractive guys you’ve ever seen but you would never even think about it. If anything it’s a bit too late to imagine you and Soobin being anything more than rivals or even tutor and student. It would just be too much.

She smiled leaning into him, "Thanks, it's like you're the only one who knows how to fix it."

"Then you should probably learn how to do it yourself for when he’s not around," you responded out of the blue, flashing Jia a tight smile, "I could teach you but it's just a troubleshooting problem and it doesn’t take a brainiac to figure that out."

"I'd rather have Soobin teach me," Jia smiled looking back at Soobin who looked down at his own laptop to hide the fact that he was furiously blushing at how snappy you sounded. You smiled watching him ignore her, the jealous immature side happy he's not giving her much attention but you couldn’t understand why.

“You hear that Soobin?" You asked, nudging him with your knee, he released a breath stopping what he was doing and waiting for you to talk. Just like that, he didn't ignore you at this moment. "Jia wants you to teach her how to fix her own laptop, she’s taking advantage of your kindness, y’know."

Jia went to argue but the damage had been done. Soobin wouldn’t disagree with you, maybe you were right. He did always get bothered by all the girls who asked him to help them with something and he always felt bad saying no. In the end, half of the girls would use it to flirt with him and compliment him every chance they had and it made him uncomfortable.

Even if what you had said was a bit of a lie and probably more beneficial to you than him, Soobin was on your side — even if you sounded a bit mean, "Sorry I'm too busy but if you take it to the tech lab I'm sure they'll help you."

"He's too busy," you repeated smugly looking up at her again. You’re telling "Oh, I understand," Jia sighed, "Soobin are you doing anything? Maybe we can meet up and do some work."

You couldn’t help but scoff, Soobin immediately looked at you as you moved just a fraction away from. You looked annoyed and he knew it was once again because of him. He asked you to tutor him and yet here you are having to watch another girl try and take him away.

"Um, I don’t know, I’m kinda doing something with Y/n right now and I don’t know how long it’ll be," Soobin said mindlessly, eyes glancing in your direction like you would reward him for being blunt, he turned to you, "Can we continue?"

You stared at him in surprise. This is not how you expected this moment to go. You were almost certain that was thrilled at the idea of ending this and leaving with someone he appears to be close to. Sure, you watched him tell her he was busy but she kept pushing and you assumed he would just go with it instead. You were also being a little rude and she was his friend right, why else would they have looked so close last semester? You assumed he would’ve been annoyed by the way you responded to her and would want to end this study session before it could even start.

“I don’t know,” you said, sounding a bit more harsh than you expected, “Do you want to?”

Soobin looked genuinely caught off guard that you would even think that. Why would he not want to? He’s been thinking about this for weeks, he’s worked for this — or well stopped putting in the work so you could tutor him. Do you think he’s going to want to leave to hang out with Jia?

“Yes,” Soobin said looking all doe eyed and you’ve never seen him make that face to you. You looked to Jia, “So, can we finish studying or is there anything else you want to tell Soobin?”

She stared down at you with a glare but you didn’t budge, looking at her unimpressed and not intimidated at all. All you wanted to do was finish this study session, get paid, and go home. Why were they making this so complicated? Was it even worth all this trouble when you haven’t even gotten to reviewing his answers yet.

The more you thought about it the more you realized it was actually really annoying. Would you have to go through this every time you study in the library? Would some girl with a fat crush on Soomin come and try and take him away? Did you really want to put up with that?

Soobin practically jumped in his seat when you stood up, “It’s getting late and we haven’t even started, let’s just try this again some other time, I guess.”

“Y/n!” Soobin’s voice was a little too loud for the people in the library and a few felt perfectly fine telling him to shut up as he ran to the stairs completely forgetting Jin was standing there waiting on him.

The elevator came to a stop on the first floor and you swung your backpack onto your shoulders, head down as you caught up on your notifications. You barely made it past the elevator doors when you bumped into a very hard service. A strong arm grabbed you from the waist as you nearly stumbled back, your phone unfortunately did not have the luck of having someone grab it before it fell. Your hands clung to the shirt of the person and you finally got a good look at him, annoyed huff leaving your lips, “Soobin!?”

“What?” Play it cool, Soobin “I was coming to see where you went after ditching me up there.”

“I literally said we could do it some other day,” you released a sigh as you picked your phone up and shook his hands off your waist. Soobin loomed over your shoulder, “Damn, your screens cracked, when did that happen?”

He wasn’t thinking straight when he said that, all common sense completely left his body as he looked at your phone with pity, only snapping out of his thoughts when he felt you turn your head to look at him. It was then that he realized just how close the two of you were with him leaning down to look over your shoulder. He couldn’t help but attempt a smile noticing just how close your lips are to his and you smelled so goo—

“About two seconds ago, Soobin,” your voice was laced with sarcasm that had goosebumps raising on his skin at how annoyed you sounded, “When you bumped into me, remember?”

He blinked once in realization, feeling his cheeks heat up, “I did that?”

A tired sigh left your lips as you decided to ignore him. You weren’t sure if he was playing dumb to get on your nerves or if he actually was clueless but now you were more annoyed than before. You don’t have the money nor the time to get your screen fixed and you definitely can’t afford a new one.

“I’m going home,” you mumbled as you turned away from him, “Go find another tutor, probably Jia will help—“

“I don’t want to,” Soobin’s deep voice cut you off as he followed you out the door into the outside, “I want you to tutor me, Y/n. I’m sorry about your phone, I’ll fix it but don’t take back your word, you already agreed.”

You groaned, “Ugh, Soobin there’s so many girls who’ll tutor you and for free, you don’t need me and besides, we can’t study in the library if someone is going to interrupt.”

“Y/n it’s been one day,” Soobin said harshly, “Did Jia bother you that much?”

Soobin couldn’t help but feel hopeful and he wasn’t sure why. He knows you don’t like him so there’s no way you were jealous but to see you act just a little possessive over him made him blush. He liked it. He liked it a lot and he was determined to make you admit it any way you can. He watched you roll your eyes, expression laced with attitude, “I don’t care about Jia, Soobin, but if I’m trying to help your studies I’m not interested in others tagging along.”

He couldn’t help but bite his lip as he tilted his head to the side curiously, “So you want me to yourself?”

Once again you rolled your eyes, turning your back to him, “I’m leaving.”

“No,” Soobin grabbed at your wrist softly, “I’m kidding, come on, let’s figure something out, yeah?”

“Like?” You asked, still not sure why you’re willing to put yourself through this when you don’t even like him that much. You watched as his shoulder rose and dropped in a shrug, biting his lip in thought and you released a small sigh to let him know you were running out of patience. He looked down, “I don’t know, maybe we could go somewhere that it’s just us two.”

You could barely understand him from the way he mumbled but once you processed what he said, you just nodded, “Alright, I’ll go to your place tomorrow.”

“Really?” He asked, clearly thrilled at the idea but trying to play it off. You just nodded and he finally let you leave.

What were you getting yourself involved with him?

Soobin couldn’t sleep all night. He went to his classes looking like a complete zombie and for once he had an actual reason for not paying much attention. As much as he wanted to see you all day you made him wait till late because you had work after your last class. It only made him more anxious and he cleaned around his apartment twice, just to be sure you didn’t think he was messy even if he kind of was. The entire time this all happened, his friend watched him from the comfort of Soobin’s bed.

“So what makes you think Y/n would even want to hang out in your bedroom?” Taehyun asked as he watched his friend go crazy. Soobin was acting like he was preparing a date, he saw him put on Chanel perfume about three times, each time saying he couldn’t remember if he put any on. He even styled his hair on.y to mess it up and restyle it differently.

Soobin shrugged, “I don’t know, but my desk is here, Y/n might.”

Taehyun just nodded, not seeming fully convinced but went along with it anyway, “Wishful thinking, bin, wishful thinking, and just speak your truth, what’s the real reason why you want to be in your room instead out in the living room?”

He smirked watching the way Soobin’s face flushed red, “Privacy.”

He chuckled, “From who?”

Soobin didn’t answer him and it only made Taehyun smile in amusement, “I love you, but it’s never going to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked as he checked his phone, already smiling at the text you sent a few minutes ago that said you were already on your way.

soobin: ok just lmk

soobin: I’ll come down if u want

You didn’t respond but he didn’t expect you to, he only just sent the message but he still found himself waiting for those three dots to pop up on the message thread.

“I’m talking about how badly you want to hook up with Y/n,” Taehyun said, making Soobin look up at him completely shocked.

“I hate Y/n,” obviously he didn’t but he didn’t like the idea of his friends knowing he liked you without knowing how you felt and he had a reason for this. If they knew he liked you despite how mean you were to him, they would think he’s a masochist… it’s better they think he hates you too but apparently he wasn’t fooling anyone considering Kai caught on pretty quickly too.

Taehyun let out a laugh, one of those really loud and obnoxious laughs that told Soobin he was actually very amused by whatever was happening. He went as far as wiping away his cheek like a tear had fallen and said, “Good one, almost believed you there.

“I’m serious,” Soobin said as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, fixing a wrinkle in his shirt, “Y/n is mean to me, why would I like her?”

“I wanna know why too,” Taehyun said as he rolled onto his stomach only making himself more comfortable on the bed, “I mean, she’s hot, but she’s mean—wait a second, you like that she’s mean, huh?”

Taehyun was just teasing him at this point and when Soobin refused to respond, his eyes only widened, “Oh my god! You like that Y/n’s mean to you, are you a perv, Hyung?”

He was only teasing, he swears it. He doesn’t care what his friend is into, what he likes is totally up to him but it’s just fun to poke fun at him when he gets so flustered about it. He doesn’t blame Soobin for liking you, like he said, he can agree that you’re attractive, but you’ve blown Soobin off for three years. Did he really like you enough to keep up his charades and if so did he really go as far as failing his classes just to get you to talk to him? God, what will you do to Soobin once you find out?

“I’m not a perv!” Soobin yelled, a little louder than expected. He’s really not. He’s not a perv… he’s just… he just likes you. Yes, he likes that you’re a little mean to him, yes he likes when you scold him, yes he likes pushing your buttons and yes he especially liked it when you do it and he can see down your shirt or look at the squishiness of your thighs but… but he’s not a perv!

Okay, maybe he’s imagined what it’s like to feel under your shirt and has struggled to pay attention to anything but the sight of you in a short skirt but that doesn’t make him a perv, he’s just an easily distracted guy…

Before Taehyun could rebut, a loud knock was heard on the front door that had both of their eyes widening in surprise. Soobin was practically sprinting toward the door as his friend gathered his things to leave. He meant to leave before you were here but clearly time passed by way too fast and now he’s getting ready to leave just as Soobin was opening the door to you.

You looked at Taehyun curiously as he ran past you and out the door, yelling, “Hi Y/n! Bye Y/n!”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you let yourself into Soobin’s apartment, “What’s up with him? Why’d he leave in a hurry?”

“Uh,” Soobin gave you a blank expression that sort of reminded you of a confused bunny and you watched him scratch the back of his head in thought, “You said no distractions and… and he would be a distraction, right?”

“I guess,” you took the chance to look around his apartment, it was huge, way bigger than your apartment and it was so painfully obvious that he came from money. He had a grand piano in the corner for fuck’s sake. There was even a chandelier hanging above the dining table and a fireplace by the tv. Too distracted to notice Soobin move behind you, you nearly hit him in self defense when he began to pull on your backpack to take it off your shoulders. Without bothering with a thank you, you headed toward his marble dining table waiting for him to follow but he just stood in place.

“We’re studying in my room,” Soobin said in voice that radiated confidence, completely opposite of the desperate tone he used to prove to Taehyun that he was not a perv. He had an act to play, he assumed you liked mean guys. He’s heard of some of the guys you used to talk to and they all had one thing in common… they were intimidating and Soobin didn’t feel like that at all so he had to play the part.

You didn’t even question it as you followed him into his room, eyes immediately zoning in on the white cage set on its own stand, two different levels to it and a small hedgehog inside. Soobin cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s Odi, he’s a hood boy.”

Fuck, Soobin thought, why would he say that about a damn hedgehog?

“Cute,”you said coolly as you took the main desk chair, making him have to pull up a smaller chair next to you. You thought Odi was cute after he called him a good boy? Or did him calling Odi a good boy not affect your thoughts on the hedgehog? Oh god, his mind was completely scrambled.

Soobin didn’t have to be asked this time to show you his most recent exam. He knew it was what you were going to ask to see first and he wanted to show you that he could be a very good listener. He looked to you to see how you would react to his quick obedience but you barely even blinked as you pulled it toward you. You pursed your lips in thought and he watched your mouth closely. Your lips looked so soft, so plump and smooth with light lip balm on them.

He wondered how soft they would be in a kiss. Were you a good kisser? Would you think he’s a good kisser? How far would the two of you go or would it just be kissing? He would someday like to get to a point where he can openly adore you because there’s just so much from your pretty hair to your pretty legs and everything in between.

He had a dirty secret that’s not so much of a secret considering his thoughts from earlier but… he can’t help but always notice your breasts—after your cute annoyed face of course—he wasn’t a complete bimbo. He respects you, he can’t just immediately look at your boobs despite the fact that today you were a low cut fitted shirt. He tried paying more attention to your face as it looked like you were about to talk but his eyes couldn’t help but slowly trail down your neck to your collarbone until he saw just the smallest hint of cleavag—

“Are you listening?” He snapped his gaze back to yours looking completely red handed as he nodded his head, clearly not listening.

You released a sigh as you looked at him in thought. Soobin was smart, you knew how smart he was so why did he seem so clueless right now?it’s like he had no thoughts in that cute head of his an—did you just consider him cute?

You blinked in surprise at your own thoughts and just as you were going to ask him to repeat what you said, you saw in real time the way his gaze seem to drop once more and you finally understood what was going on.

Soobin was trying so hard not to stare and failing yet the attempt was cute, especially when he seemed to let his lower jaw go slack and lips part slightly at the sight. Normally you would immediately be disgusted but it’s Soobin… he’s annoying and a know-it-all but just look at that brain empty expression of his, not caring at all now if he gets caught.

Without thinking you dropped a hand to his thigh, squeezing slightly and making his gaze return to yours, “What did I say?”

“What?” Soobin asked, shaking his head like he was snapping out of a trance, the cold and deep voice was back. You rolled your eyes, “You said you were listening so I’m asking you to repeat what I said.”

You’ll admit this was all a bit out of character but you just had to see if you were right… was Soobin really staring at your cleavage openly, and if so, how did you feel about it?

“Um…” Soobin looked down at your hand, “Um…”

“Um?” You repeated sarcastically, “Can you focus? If not, I’m going home.”

“Yah!” Soobin whined with a low groan, “Stop saying that, you already agreed to tutor me, stop trying to back ou—“

“Then pay attention!” You said back and he practically stomped his foot in a tantrum, just wanting to argue now.

“I’m trying but you—you’re,” he groaned in frustration as the words died in his throat and with a defeated sigh, he mumbled, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening.”

You smiled proudly, not at all in a rush to figure out what had him so distracted, and instead said, “Good boy, don’t you feel better being honest?”

The words just slipped and you didn’t think much of them as you went back to the laptop, already writing down answers to the questions he got wrong, meanwhile Soobin is trying to calm the painful red blush in his cheeks.

There was a small sphere in the palm of your hand, it was a shade of dark blue with a white swirl on it and it matched the same one Yeonjun held in his hand. You’ve shared one class with him in the last two years and it’s in the one you’re currently in. The two of you have never spoken a single word to each other and the semester started six weeks ago. He looked just as surprised to realize his partner was chosen randomly by a stupid marble.

He released a small nervous chuckle, clearly just caught off guard by this. He’s almost a 100% certain you’re like the only person in class that he hasn’t spoken to. Now, that didn’t mean he didn’t notice you, you were pretty and never talking to you really did make you seem a bit mysterious to him. He cleared his throat, “Alright, when should we get started?”

You checked the time on your phone, you were supposed to be meeting Soobin soon to study at his place but you’ve just been completely blindsided by this sudden partner project in class. You only had about a week to turn in the research paper and you had to work a couple nights this week. You agreed to study with Soobin on days you didn’t work but now with this on the table, you seriously don't know what to do. Well, obviously you have to do the assignment but you don’t know how to tell Soobin. If you just sent him a text about it you’re pretty positive he will just blow up your phone nonstop because for some reason he desperately needs you to continue these study sessions.

“When are you free?” You asked him trying to figure out what time would work best for you to work on this. You were only getting tomorrow to do research in class and after that the two of you are basically on your own as the unit confíes on in class.

Class has just ended so the two of you walked together outside of the room trying to figure out when would work best. It was hard to ignore the looks you received from some of your other classmates and you knew why. Yeonjun was attractive, really attractive and he was popular too.

Yeonjun brought his phone out too, checking his schedule, leaning a little closer to talk to you, “Um, I could do… well I work tomorrow after class… are you free later to get started?”

Soobin had a smile on his face that he knew soon he would need to drop it, he couldn’t let you know how excited he was to see you right now. He was in a good mood, anytime someone said hi to him he was quick to say it back but if a girl tried stopping him to talk he would excuse himself saying he had to go somewhere.

His class ended a little earlier today so instead of waiting in the parking lot for you, he went to your last class.

Just as he turned the corner, his smile seemed to fall without his control anyway. Standing just a few feet away from him he found you and you looked so pretty today in a pair of jeans that hugged your curves just the way he liked it and… and you were standing with Choi Yeonjun.

He watched you smile at whatever Yeonjun said and he debated if he should just wait. He could wait, of course he can and honestly it’s what he should do. You’re just talking to another guy and it’s not like you’re flirting, right? It shouldn’t even matter to him, you’re not dating—you don’t even like him! So why does he feel bothered?

“Hey,” Soobin’s deep voice surprised you as he came up behind you, so close that you felt him press against your backpack, just looming over you with a hardened gaze. You looked back at him, “Hey.”

“Are you ready?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and he couldn’t help but shift his gaze toward Yeonjun, who he definitely wasn’t happy to see was just standing there.

You looked at him apologetically, “I don’t know if I can make it tonight. We just got assigned this project and we don’t have time to do it in class so…”

Your words slowly died down as you watched his facial expression change. His lips turned downward and eyes seemed to sadden, “What?”

You looked at Yeonjun, “I’ll see you in the library.”

He took the hint and left you alone with Soobin who loomed over you with his height looking like a kicked puppy. You’re not sure why this expression really bothered you and you’re feeling really guilty now even if it wasn’t completely your fault. You found yourself saying, “I’m sorry.”

“But we agreed to meet up today,” Soobin said.

“I’m sorry but we want to get at least the outline finish—“

“Then what about after?” He rushed to ask. You looked at him apologetically, “It depends on what time we get done.”

You’re not even sure why the look on his face was making you feel bad but it was. The two of you didn’t even start to get along till just a couple weeks ago and sometimes he’s just so different from the cold side you’re used to. Sometimes he gives you snippets of how desperate he might be to see you but you can’t help but always brush it off. You just can’t tell what’s the real side of him and you’re starting to be affected by his cuter clingier side even if you couldn’t understand it.

“I’ll be waiting,” Soobin said, rushing away because he didn’t know what else to do. He was leaving before you could say that you can’t keep any promises. You rolled your eyes at how pushy he was but part of you smiled, shaking your head in disbelief and clearly amused.

Soobin didn’t lie either. He waited at home playing video games and checking his phone every couple minutes. He would occasionally send you a text, just a little reminder that you can’t forget him.

soobin: what time do u think u’ll be done ☺️

you: I don’t know yet soobin

soobin: :(

*five minutes later*

soobin: almost done?

you: not yet

soobin: 🥺 well hurry

you: …

soobin: 😞

*twenty minutes later*

soobin: 😞

you: what’s wrong

soobin: nothing :)

soobin: did you forget?

you: ?

soobin: study time?

you: no, I didn’t forget

Listen, the texts were annoying. They were so annoying because you and Yeonjun were trying to finish up the rough draft for your outline but Soobin just kept sending you text after text. It was annoying but…

It was pretty fucking cute. Ugh, he was just being clingy and though you found it annoying it was also so cute and it had you hurrying up your time with Yeonjun so you could text Soobin.

you: just finished

soobin: ok 🥰hurry

That’s how you found yourself sitting across from Soobin in his overly large living room trying to talk to him but his eyes were just straying away from your eyes. It wasn’t his fault though, like he said earlier, you just looked so pretty. Your shirt was fitted today and like usual he can’t seem to get over your chest. All of you really, your pretty face, pretty voice, pretty laugh and smile… your boobs and your butt and your cold attitude, it all just turned him into mush.

“Hey,” your voice scared him out of his gaze and he looked up at you blankly and clearly caught off guard, “Can you look at me when I’m talking to you?”

“Okay,” he nodded his head obediently, “Sorry.”

“You don’t even have your backpack,” you said as he looked down at his lap, “You were blowing up my phone the entire time I was with Yeonjun and you’re not even ready to study.”

“I know,” he gulped, eyes unable to help themselves from slowly looking down to your cleavage again. “I’m sorry.”

You released an annoyed groan, grabbing his shirt suddenly and shaking him, “Are you?”

“Yes,” Soobin nodded, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again Y/n, I’ll be good, I promise.”

“So next time I’m doing schoolwork with Yeonjun what are you going to do?” You asked.

He released a sudden huff that made it clear he was less than happy to say this but said it anyway, “I’ll wait patiently for you to finish.”

Nodding your head you turned toward the small coffee table where your laptop was, “Kay, go get your bag so we can start reviewing this.”

Soobin jumped to his feet, running away with a smile, “So you’re not mad at me?”

“No,” you said feeling him practically squeal next to you, making you only the more confused but couldn’t help yourself from saying, “It was annoying in a cute way.”

Soobin bit back the urge to smile and did as told. When he came out he had a white bag in hand that he handed you watching your eyebrows scrunch together cutely as you asked, “What’s this?”

“New phone,” Soobin said casually and your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Soobin, why would you get me—“

“Because I broke yours,” Soobin said helping you open the box, “I already called your service and asked if you would be able to add your line to it and they said yes. I can drive you if you want me to.”

You shook your head no, “This is crazy, you didn’t have to do that! I could still use my phone, it was just the screen.”

“But,” Soobin looked down, “But it’s a gift from me to you, can’t you just take it?”

“Soobin…”

“Soobin is so cute,” your friend Yuna said one night as you got to Beomgyu’s house for a party.

You’ve been filling your friends in on your past two weeks with Soobin and it was all a surprise to them. You seemed to despise Soobin for some time and suddenly you’re all about hanging out with him. Even Soobin seemed to always act cold around you so for you to tell them that he’s been surprisingly clingy is in fact very cute.

“He probably likes you,” Beomgyu said with a shrug of his shoulders that had you spitting out your drink in shock. It’s not like you hadn’t wondered the same thing but for a while you wondered if you had just been reading too much into it and then you felt stupid for even thinking about it. Beomgyu bringing it up so suddenly shocked you, maybe it wasn’t all in your head.

“You think?” You asked genuinely and Beomgyu laughed out loud.

“Are you kidding?” Beomgyu asked, “He’s been staring at you since he got here and I bet you he’s been trying to think up an excuse to talk to you.”

“I’ve known him for like three years now, there’s just no way, I’m not even nice to him,” you said as you looked around for Soobin only to find him already looking at you as he talked a

To some of his own friends. He gave you a big and energetic wave that had you lifting your hand to wave back too. You smiled a little when he did and Yuna sighed, “You like him too, huh? I mean he’s cute—“

“No! No, I don’t,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “I mean… even if I did, would it even matter? He thinks I’m mean, right? It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

They both gave you a blank stare and just as you were going to respond, an arm came around your shoulders as a low voice said, “What are we talking about?”

You said a quick hello to him as your friends started talking, “Soobin and Y/n got a thing for each other and neither one of them will admit it.”

“That’s not tru—“

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Yeonjun said with a laugh, “You should’ve seen the look he gave me when we were talking the other day and yesterday he ignored me when I tried saying hi. I even told him he can have you back because our project was over and he just ignored me!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “That doesn’t mean he likes me, we’ve just been studying…”

Soobin was not a mean person, he swears it. He’s really nice and gentle and he would never dislike anyone without a reason. He’s too shy for confrontation yet right now he would really love to go up to you and just pull Yeonjun’s arm away from your shoulders. You’re done with your project so why is he s next to you and why is he touching you? Soobin hasn’t even had the chance to hold you so why does he get to? He watched closely as you talked to your friends and Beomgyu trying to make sure Yeonjun wouldn’t try anything. He let Yeonjun take your attention away from him pretty much all last week so why is he still around you? It wasn’t fair, Soobin should be the one next to you. He was such a good listener this week, after you got him in trouble and he promised to be good, he did just that. He only sent you two texts throughout your time with Yeonjun and he didn’t even bother you in class!

“Who are you staring at and are they hot?”

Soobin jumped in surprise, drink spilling down the front of his shirt as he whipped around to find Kai standing there laughing.

“What?” Soobin asked as he looked down at his wet shirt. Kai just sighed, “Nevermind, go clean your shirt.”

If Soobin was mean, he would’ve smacked the kid upside the head but he was nice and nice people only attack with pillows and there’s no pillows close enough to use. He’ll get Kai back soon, just not now, now he has to clean his shirt. He looked back to you and Yeonjun as if making sure there wasn’t any funny business and practically ran to go clean himself off.

He skipped past the line to the bathroom and walked down to the end of the hall where he knew Beomgyu’s room was. His friend was throwing the party anyway and though the room was off limits, he would understand. Soobin rummaged through his closet and went straight to his bathroom so he could at least wipe off some of the intense smell of alcohol, hurrying himself along so he can watch Yeonjun.

The music from the party was loud enough for him to hear a muffled version of it even hidden away in Beongyu’s bathroom and that made him feel nervous. While he’s in here cleaning off the stench of liquor, you were probably out there surrounded by guys hitting on yo—“Ow!”

Soobin’s head whipped back with a loud thud and his hands immediately flew to his nose as pain shot right through it. The person who pushed the door open stood there in shock, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Bin?”

A pool of red began to fill his cupped hands and he moved over the bathroom sink with a groan. You visibly cringed as he moved around you and reached for the toilet paper as you stood there shocked, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I—oh my god.”

He finally looked over at you, heart racing as he pulled the paper towel away, blood beginning to dribble again, “Y/n?”

“Soobin, I’m sorry, I saw you come over here and I wanted to sneak up on you but,” your face cringed, “Soobin please, you’re still bleeding.”

“Oh right,” Soobin held the paper towel to his nose again.

“It’s a lot of blood,” you said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

“It’s fine, this happens all the time,” he waved you off with a bloody hand and you bit down on your bottom lip looking hurt, “No it doesn’t, I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled a bit as you looked at your reflection in the mirror while Soobin carefully wiped off whatever mess was left until it was all clean. You struggled to look at him and his red nose even if he was completely clean but he didn’t even notice. He was more excited that you came to see him instead of staying out there with other guys, “So you wanted to sneak up on me?”

“Well you had been staring at me all night and I was just gonna see if you would say hello. I should’ve just waited outside, this is awkward right?” You were rambling a bit but he just smiled lovingly.

He shook his head no as the two of you left the bathroom, “No, not awkward, right? I wanted to say hi but you were busy.”

“Busy?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?”

You weren’t busy, you were just talking to your friends. Nothing you talked about was serious or anything you just talked about Soobin, he could’ve said hi at any time. Soobin’s smile dropped, going serious for a moment, “Yes you were, with Yeonjun, I saw.”

You blinked in thought, “We were just talking, you could’ve come over any time.”

He released a deep sigh, looking around the dark bedroom happy that it was just two despite the dozens of people out there getting drunk with loud music. Letting his gaze fall back on you, he made a small pout, “Well, how was I supposed to know that? Last time you got me in trouble for not leaving you alone when you’re with Yeonjun an—“

“Soobin, that was just when we were studying, I didn’t realize you were thinking I meant all the time,” you said apologetically. Soobin stepped closer to you, “I was just trying to be good and listen. If I knew then I would have pulled you away the second I saw Yeonjun even come close to you!”

You looked genuinely taken back by his tone, if you didn’t know any better you would say that he almost sounded jealous. Even the look in his eye made it seem like he wasn’t happy and you weren’t used to this at all. The other day when you talked to Yeonjun for the first time, Soobin stormed up to you and took you by surprise when he appeared behind you, so close that you felt his breath on your shoulder.

Now you’re starting to see that it was possibly all because of jealousy.

“Are you jealous of Yeonjun?” You asked him and he audibly scoffed.

He was not jealous of Yeonjun. He didn’t think Yeonjun was better than him, if anything he thought they were pretty much on the same level of attractiveness. Yeonjun was more extroverted than he was but Soobin wasn’t worried about that. He didn’t feel so insecure over things like that so no, he’s not jealous.

He’s possessive. Soobin knows you aren’t dating and he knows that you probably still don’t like him yet but… but you’re his. He’s already called dibs, he’s already put in so much work to make that happen. Obviously he’s not going to be happy if your attention strays away from him, he wants you looking at him and thinking about him all the time, the way he does about you.

“No,” Soobin finally said, “But… but you’re… yknow, you’re mi—“

“Why are you in my shirt?” Beomgyu asked as his bedroom door opened and he stood in the entrance. He looked between you in surprise, “Wait, am I interrupting something?”

You stood there in shock, you weren’t sure what he was about to say but part of you also felt like you had an idea. It really did seem like you had an idea. After all your friends have basically instilled it in your head that he might like you it wasn’t hard to guess what he was going to say but you just can’t bring yourself to fully believe it yet. He was so nice, you can see it now so you just felt bad to think that he might like you after you were mean to him at times. To make things worse, he seemed to be totally okay with you always snapping on him or just ignoring him and you just felt bad because you were genuinely starting to fall for him and you can admit that now.

Soobin shook his head no. He had been watching you the entire time and he can just tell you’re overwhelmed by something right now. He just smiled cutely, “I had to borrow your shirt because mine got wet, sorry?”

You looked up at him, and he smiled wider, eyes crinkling, “I think I’m gonna head home now but I’ll text you.”

Soobin said goodbye to you and Beomgyu and before you could make your leave, Beomgyu pulled you back in, “What happened? What were you guys doing? Were you making out? Ew, oh my god please don’t tell me if you did anything on my bed.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, clearly thrown off, “No, we were just talking, if you hadn’t interrupted then I would have known what he was going to say.”

He gasped, “I didn’t interrupt, you’re in my room, remember? And why didn’t you just go with him, you like him too.”

You bit your lip, “How do I tell him? I just missed my chance.”

“I don’t know, you’ll probably just have to show him.”

When Monday came you went over to Soobin’s place for your usual study lessons. After the party the two of you have been texting but it wasn't about anything deep. It’s like you were tip toeing around a possible confession that neither of you wanted to do through text. After your last class he invited you over with the intention to just be straight forward and hope that you would want him but he’s still a little scared.

If you tell him you hate him he thinks he might cry so he’s been trying to seem cool and collected this entire time.

He fidgeted in his desk chair as he watched you take your laptop out. With a clear of his throat he stood up, “Um, do you want water? I can get us some.”

“Sure, where is your textbook? I forgot mine.”

He pointed to his backpack and let you get it as he left for the kitchen. Without a single thought, you reached for his huge backpack in search of a familiar textbook. Once you found the book you pulled it out of his overly stuffed bag accidentally bringing a few papers with it too and as you looked them over, your eyes widened.

CHOI SOOBIN

SCORE: 65

You didn’t think about it for a second, he’s been showing his assignment scores and it has been improving little by little bit as you took a closer look you could clearly see a layer of whiteout and the score 98, crossed off. It made your brows furrow in confusion and you looked at the pages finding answers erased and replaced with wrong ones crossed out in red.

It’s like he was purposely grading himself bad and as you put the papers back away you realized why. He asked you to tutor him and you never understood that. He was always smarter than you so you couldn’t wrap your head around why he asked you of all people to help him. Even when it came down to the actual study sessions, Soobin always got things right away and very rarely struggled to find an answer but then he would come to you and quickly show you his bad score and ask for your help again.

Sometimes, studying was the last thing on his agenda when he was with you and you always found him distracted and not fully listening so now you know he’s been lying to you. He lied to get you to study with him yet all you’ve seen was him stare at your boobs, get clingy, and pretend to get bad grades.

Was all this just a little scheme to get you to hang out with him? If that’s the case then did he really like you and expect you never to find out?

Sure, you’ve come to realize that you like him too but for him to go this far just for you to talk to him… well, you’re not all that happy about it. Did he expect you never to find out and now that you have what was your plan?

Soobin came in with a smile on his face, “I brought snacks.”

“Mhm,” you said, moving to sit on his bed and away from his backpack, “Let’s work on the bed today, I wanna get comfortable.”

He watched you make yourself on his bed and all he could focus on was the way your skirt fluttered around your legs exposing more of your thighs and when he looked up at you, your eyes were already on him, catching him red handed in the act of checking you out. This time around you smirked a bit now knowing that he’s been lying this whole time just to get you to hang out with him. It was cute and he was cute so you can’t be mad but at the same time, he was very bold in getting mad when you had to study with Yeonjun, made you feel guilty too. You gotta let him know you know about his lie but you’re working up a plan.

It’s not no surprise that he likes you, that has become painfully obvious and you like him too but you want to get him in trouble. He lied and he thought you would never find out. How long did he plan on keeping this up? He’s gotta get in trouble, right? Maybe a little teasing, just to see if this really was all just to study or for him to get a good look at you when you’re alone together. It’s not like you never noticed the way his eyes would trace down your body while you’re trying to do homework.

If you’re going to tell him you know about his lie, you’re going to make it fun.

“O—okay,” Soobin stuttered as he sat down with a foot of space between you, “I mean, yeah cool.”

You smiled at his awkwardness, now you can see that he’s not as cold as he wants to to think he is and it only makes him look cuter.

The two of you studied for a bit, you couldn’t come right out and tell him you knew the truth, where was the fun in that? You had to play along a bit and see how he would take it so that’s what you did.

“Soobin, you keep getting the answer wrong and I’m starting to get annoyed,” you said as you watched him hesitate over the right answer before choosing the wrong one, eyes sliding over to look at you every now and then. You were wearing a low cut top again and matched with your miniskirt it was getting hard for him to not get distracted and the two of you are alone in his bed… he just can’t focus.

“Sorry, Y/n,” his eyes lingered on your thighs a little longer than usual and you subconsciously unwrapped them a little, the small gap from where the skirt ended and what covered your underwear, slowly widened. You released a heavy sigh, “Why are you so distracted?”

At that his eyes seemed to fall toward your cleavage, catching himself in the act of staring and looked back down, “I don’t know.”

You had to bite back a smirk and without any hesitation, you moved closer to his side, “Do I need to punish you? Will that get you to pay attention?”

You were half joking but tempted to see what he would say and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he seemed to become mush at your words, “H-how?”

You released a deep sigh, “How? That’s the wrong answer, I shouldn’t have to punish you. You should say, ‘Okay, Y/n, I’ll pay attention.’ What are you? A perv?”

Soobin went quiet at that and for a second you thought you might’ve said the wrong thing. His face flushed red and he looked down at his lap sadly but before you could apologize for asking him that, he said, “Maybe.”

“Maybe? So you’re a perv?” Your brows raised in surprise, “You want me to punish you?”

He gave a subtle nod of his head making you grow quiet, well this just got interesting. With a huff, pretending to be annoyed, you shifted even closer taking his hand in yours and pulling it to write on his paper with yours over his, “Start writing.”

“What am I writing?”

“Write: I am a liar and a perv,” you said jokingly and he looked up at you cutely so you helped him write, “I lied to Y/n about needing help, and I can’t stop staring at her boobs.”

His hand froze up mid sentence, “Y/n, how’d you find out?”

You smiled, he didn’t even bother hiding it this time, “Because I found your exam scores, you’ve been lying to me Soobin, after telling me nonstop how good you are,” you said with a stern voice.

“Are you mad?” He asked shyly. You released a sigh, pretending to contemplate, “Maybe? Are you going to listen and pay attention from now on?”

He nodded his head, watching curiously as you moved to sit behind him, turning to stare at you but you snapped your fingers forcing him to look forward again. You scooted close until your legs were spread around his big frame with your breasts pressed against his back that had his breath hitching in surprise. They already felt squishy and your arms moved to hug his waist. Soobin sucked in a breath when your hands rested on his thighs and he immediately looked down, already feeling himself begin to fidget in excitement and nervousness.

“I want you to read the question, and tell me the answer, I know you know it,” you said, making him nod his head, throat too dry to give you a verbal response, “But since you’re a perv, I’m not going to make it easy for you, I’m gonna touch you and if you stop, I stop, got it?”

As if to further explain what you meant, your hand moved toward his groin area making him breath heavier, “Mhm.”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes,” he sighed, “I’ll listen.”

His head tilted to the side when you began to teasingly touch the zipper, slowly pulling it down and undoing the button of his jeans, “Start reading.”

Soobin swallowed dryly, unable to help himself from thinking about the fact that you’re brakes today, he could practically feel your nipples against his back and when your hand ran over the expanse of his growing length, he couldn’t find the right word. You were a little surprised to feel his immediate response to your touch, already feeling him harden before you even did anything and you smiled, “I said, start reading.”

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod of his head, blinking to try and collect his thoughts, “First question, When a gene is expressed, it means that the protein—ohh.”

His breath hitched in surprise as your hand wrapped around his clothed cock feeling him just continue to get more erecting. You even gave it a little squeeze, “Did I say stop? No, so keep going.”

“Mhm, protein that it codes for is being made by transcription and translation…” his word slowly when your thumb circled around his tip, still not touching him under his briefs, teasing him, “Imagine two genes in a eukaryote. One is gene X. The other is gene A—Y/n, I can’t focus.”

“So did you lie to me again?” You asked, finally sneaking your hand under the waistband or his briefs, “You said you would listen and pay attention.”

Your fingers wrapped around his thick length giving him a soft and teasing stroke, feeling his dick twitch instantly as he nodded his head. The words were bef ninny to get blurry when your palm hugged the head of his cock, twisting your wrist and smearing it in his own precum, surprised that it was already leaking. Soobin licked his dry lips trying to focus again, “In the cells you are studying, gene X is being expressed, and gene A is not being expressed—oh my god.”

He stopped when he felt you lean further against him, soft lips pressing a gentle kiss against his neck, fingers brushing along the underside of his tip and he couldn’t help but buck his hips just a little. You pulled his cock out of his underwear, “You still haven’t even finished reading the first question.”

“I’m trying,” he released a moan, “But it’s so hard, Y/n.”

You glanced down at his dick over his shoulder, nearly joking and asking if he meant his dick or the action. The head was red with need and precum leaked from the tip with a thick vein nearly throbbing everytime your hand stroked him. You gave him a small squeeze hearing him moan freely, “Keep going.”

With an annoyed groan he nodded, still waiting a moment when you began to pump his length using his own excess precum to lubricate him for an easier slide. He attempted to pick up where he left off, “—and gene A is not being expressed—ngh. Which prediction below is most likely true in these cells?”

You kissed his neck again, “Now what’s the answer?”

He released a throaty moan that made you suck harshly against his neck with the vibrations of it, stroking faster, squeezing at his base and flicking your wrist around his tip, unable to ignore the way he raised his hips to fuck into your fist. You put your legs on to of his lap to keep him from bucking, holding him in place, “I’m waiting.”

His head lolled to the side, hissing in pain when you stopped, tightening your fist and looked at him expectantly. He had to use his stupid brain, “Ugh, i—it’s B. There are more activa—oh my god—activators for gene X than for gene A.”

Your tongue licked a long stripe toward his ear, sucking on his ear lobe as you said, “Good boy, Soobin, next one.”

“Mhm,” he whined, feeling his heart leap at the name, “Good boy,” he repeated to himself. Unable to help himself he turned his head to look at you, big sparkly eyes staring into yours and without much thought, you leaned forward, letting your tongue slide into his mouth, never once stopping the jerking of his cock until finally… you felt it.

It was a complete overflow of warmth, thick and creamy cum that wouldn’t stop leaking from his tip as he threw his head back with a loud moan, hips lifting up even with your legs holding him down. It felt never ending, your fist was completely covered in his cum and it drenched his jeans and boxers, you were genuinely surprised. You didn’t know someone could cum this much from a simple handjob.

Soobin released a dry groan as you finally freed yourself from the absolute puddle of cum, looking down at the white cream that coated your fingers, letting him go and watching him fall limp against you. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and he looked absolutely fucked out that you allowed him to lie down as you pushed the textbooks off the bed, wiping your hand against his own jeans, tugging them off, “Soobin.”

“Mm,” he hummed, looking completely zoned out but let you undress him. You clicked your tongue, climbing on top of his spent cock watching it twitch with life as you sat down, “Did I tell you to cum, bunny?”

His lip quivered as he looked at you, wordlessly shaking his head no. You released a deep sigh, “So you weren’t listening? Is that good or bad?”

“Bad,” he said sadly, “B—but I couldn’t Y/n, I—“

“You what?” You asked teaching for the end of your shirt, “You just thought to cum soon, like a dumb virgin?”

He stayed quiet, watching and feeling completely hypnotized by the sight of your bare breasts for his eyes only, finally. They were just how he imagined, big and soft with nipples he could see harden under his intense gaze. He was so lost in the sight that he absentmindedly said, “Yes.”

You seemed to stop as you flung your shirt to the floor, only wearing your small miniskirt, “Yes what?”

“Dumb virgin—“

“What?” You asked suddenly watching his face redden and you felt goosebumps raise on your skin, “Are you saying… are you a virgin?”

He nodded blankly, eyes on your boobs and nothing else, his cock coming back to life, “Mhm.”

“Oh my god,” you nearly jumped off his lap but his hands moved so fast to hold you by the waist and stop you. Your eyes widened, “Soobin, I—are you—oh my god, is this your first time getting a handjob?”

He blushed, nodding his head shyly, hands unable to stop themselves from sliding up your sides until they were just under the curves of your tits, thumbs nearly touching, “Yes and my first kiss, bu—“

“I am so sorry,” you tried to move but his hands were suddenly cupping your breasts, a blank expression on his face as he stared at them in awe, catching a feel while you tried apologizing, “Soobin, we shouldn’t. I—I—“

“I want to,” Soobin groaned, thumbs running over your nipples, “Please Y/n, I want you so fucking bad. I think about you all the time, I think about this all the time.”

You couldn’t help but grind against his naked cock at his words, “You do?”

His big hands felt good as they groped you, “All the time.”

It didn’t take you long to realize what he meant, a small smile on your face, “When you touch yourself?”

He nodded, releasing a quiet whisper as your nipples became hard pebbles that he couldn’t help but pinch, you smiled, grinding on his fat spent cock, “When you watch porn?”

Once again he nodded.

“When else?”

“Whenever you leave here,” he confessed, completely hypnotized by the bounce of your tits when you grind on his dick, “I tried using a flesh light but I’m too big, it always rips an—“

Now he was blabbing but it made you so fucking horny. He was big, too big to be a virgin and the territorial side of you was taking over. You’re the only one who’s made this big, stupid cock cum and holy shit, he came so much just from a handjob!

Feeling a bit more confident, he tilted his head cutely, looking up at you, “You’ve got big boobs, Y/n.”

“I kno—“

“Can I kiss em?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a wicked smirk came to your face, shimmying up his torso, “No.”

His jaw dropped sadly, “Bu—“

“I got something better you can kiss,” you said seductively and he looked up at you with the cutest doe eyes you’ve ever seen. How could you ever dislike him? Just look at him.

“Really?” He looked down at the space between your legs, a thin thong right there between your folds and he could make out a wet spot. Licking his lips his big hands found your thighs, taking the honor to help you move up, “I’ve never, y’know…”

“I know, bunny,” you said even as he moved you closer and closer to your head with anticipation, “I’ll talk you through it bu—Soobin!”

A small squeal left your lips as he nearly knocked you forward, face between your legs, “Wait, I’m heavy, don’t do that unless you want me to suffocate you.”

Soobin wasn’t listening, his face was already against your pussy, nose brushing over the soaked fabric of your underwear, “Is okay, I want you to.”

He licks the wet spot on your underwear, lapping at the puddle with a moan, “Smells so good, Y/n, love it.”

You softly tugged his hair, leaning more and more of your weight onto his face and rocking, “Careful, okay? If it’s too much just tell me to stop.”

Soobin nodded his head against your clit, giving you a thumbs up before he completely yanked at your frail panties making you gasp as he tore into them. You yelled his name once more and he made a pout, “Sorry, they were in my way.”

“Slow down Binnie,” you reminded him, for a guy who’s never done it he seemed so experienced. Maybe it was all the porn he watched. You didn’t have much time to dwell on it as his tongue began lapping between your hole and your clit, sucking on it like it was a fucking lollipop, swirling his tongue around it hungrily. It’s not his fault. If you weren’t so pretty with such big boobies and a big brain and a cute laugh… he wouldn’t be so eager. He felt the moment your strength dissipated, hips no longer hovering and practically suffocated him, and he loved it.

He got sloppy, wanting to stick his tongue into your cunt as far as it could go, bunny eyes staring up as you rode his face now, losing yourself to the feeling, “Oh my god.”

Soobin began a repetitive motion with his tongue against your clit, before fucking you with it, he spread your ass with his big hands but his eyes were on the way your tit juggled with each breath you took and he imagined your clit was a nipple. His cock twitched at the thought, legs moving restless against the bed as he tried finding his own release but he jumped bucked his hips into the air.

You were so close, so so so close, moaning like a bitch in heat and accidentally tugging on his hair too hard, but he didn’t mind one bit. He liked it, it egged him on and he made out with your pussy so good that you couldn’t hold back, cum spilling into his open mouth with your thighs clenching around his head. A low moan fell from his lips and as you tried coming down from your heavy orgasm, his own cock released another stream of cum. You turned to look at it, a puddle of white coating his stomach, culling untouched.

Your jaw dropped as he let you go and before you could offer up a break, he was flipping you onto your back, head immediately going between your breasts.

“Fuck,” you breathed out as his mouth attached itself to your left tit like he wanted to swallow them whole. His mouth was covered in your cum and some drool. His cock lay perfectly between your folds and you just felt how hard he was, bringing your hands to his hair, coddling him, “You love my boobs, don’t you?”

At the feel of your hands in his hair, he groans, teeth gently nipping at the hard buds, “Mhm. Love ‘em.”

“I know, that’s why you always stare at them, naughty bunny,” you teased, feeling his shaky inhale. He kissed your tits and sucked on your nipples as his erecting cock jumped your folds, “Not naughty.”

“Really?” You asked, biting back a moan when he shook his head against your boob just soaking in the softness of them against your cheek, “Just being a perv then?”

“Mm,” Soobin moaned, “Wan’ fuck you, Y/n, baby.”

Your brows raised in surprise as the pet name fell from your lips already feeling his hand sink down toward his cock while tonguing at your sensitive nipple. You couldn’t help yourself at this point, stroking your fingers gently over his nipples, smiling as he shudders at the feel, cock slippery in his hands as you said, “Fuck me then.”

With a quick nod he lined himself up, missing your hole a few times till you offered him help and moaned. His body fell against yours, not sure what to do as the tightness of your pussy completely overwhelmed him, face between your tits, tongue trying to lick you even if he was so far away. He whined, “Y/n, Y-Y/n, help—“

His words died when you grabbed his hips, guiding them back before thrusting them into your own pussy until he got the rhythm. You didn’t even think twice about the fact that you weren’t using a condom. You were on birth control and though it wasn’t fully effective it was safer than not having anything and clearly it was too late. You didn’t expect the virgin to have condoms anyway.

“It’s okay, baby, nice and slow—fuck, Bin,” you moaned softly. Where did this new Soobin come from? He was fucking you now at a steady pace dragging his stupidly fat cock out till only his tip was in and drawing his hips forward till he impaled you. His mouth lazily kissed at your breasts before moving up your neck, humping his cock into your stretched out cunt with moans falling from his lips repeatedly.

Soobin was gasping for air and his grunts became louder and louder, slamming into you like his life depended on it, “So good.”

“Yeah?” You asked, clinging to him, “Love your first pussy?”

He kissed you nastily. Tongue down your throat and you could still taste your cum but it only made you moan. He was fucking you roughly, nails digging into your plump hips making sure you couldn’t escape his brutal thrusts even if you wanted to. It was his turn to lose control and fuck, he was so close.

It was a scene out of a porn video, it reeked of sex and his bed sheets were completely ruined. His stomach was covered in his cum that just soaked yours from the way he rutted himself against you and it was just nasty and horny. You hugged him close, legs wrapping around him, tits pressed against his chest, “I’m close, bunny, you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm,” he whined fucking you so good you were seeing stars. His dick was just so big and the girth on it was insane, he impaled you over and over again, “Gonna cum.”

You know you should tell him to pull out. It’s the right thing to do but…

But…

Hot ropes of his creamy cum filled your cunt suddenly with a cry as his body shook against yours. Despite cumming twice already it felt never ending and you couldn’t help yourself. The stimulation was just too much, his cock still thrusting into the wet space between your thighs.

Soobin sniffled, face between your breasts, clinging to you so hard you had to practically pull at his hair, “Soobin, bunny, I know it was a lot but you have to move.”

He shook his head, you could hear his sniffles get louder, “Don’t wanna.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, pouting when you found his reddened eyes, “I need to clean up.”

He shook his head cutely but he knew better. He slowly pulled out, watching with starry eyes as globs of cum left your pussy, an urge to finger it back into you strong but he let you sit up in shock at the mess.

“Did you lie to me again?” You asked jokingly but it went right over his head even as you said, “You don’t fuck like a virgin.”

“No! I didn’t! You’re my first, I promise,” he basically followed you out of bed, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to,” you assure him, “But I need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ll come back, right?”

You smiled, “I can’t just stay in there, can I? Lay down, I’ll help you clean up next.”

He nodded his head tiredly, doing just what you asked as he yawned.

Once you were done, hoping you got most of it out you opened the door to his bathroom, nearly screaming when you found him standing just on the other side of it. You gasped, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he sniffles and it looks like he’s been crying, “Sorry.”

“What for?” You asked, trying to lead him back to his bed feeling sad. What happened? You’re not used to Soobin like this. You laid him down and joined him, “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry for lying—I—I—I just like you so much and—and,” he struggled with words and you pulled him in for a hug, his head immediately on your chest.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay, I promise,” you said, “I like you too, why don’t you try and get some sleep? It was a lot for your first time, I’m sorry.”

“I liked it,” he said with a content sigh, “Promise you won’t leave?”

“I promise,” you said brushing his hair back but he wouldn’t budge.

“Pinky swear?” He asked hopeful that you smiled.

“I pinky swear,” you said, kissing the tip of his nose, “We’ve gotta talk anyway.”

He pouted once more, “About? Y-you don’t like me?”

“Binnie, I already told you I do,” you said softly, feeling him relax, “But we need to talk about what to do, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, finally relaxing against you, “Want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Aren’t I too mean, though?”

“Yes,” he said cutely, “But I like it.”

::.

ok this took me forever 😭😭sorry friends but I hope it was worth it.

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @bangchansbae

[indecisivemuch]

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore. 

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off. 

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own. 

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be. 

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near. 

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him. 

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.” 

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand. 

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

“Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word. 

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you. 

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters. 

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years. 

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand. 

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention. 

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts. 

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you. 

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you. 

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him. 

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying. 

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to. 

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.  

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on. 

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love, 

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do, 

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago. 

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before. 

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility. 

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you. 

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?” 

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew. 

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.” 

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly. 

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you…a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner. 

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two. 

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints. 

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that. 

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment. 

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.” 

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

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

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[moonstruckme]

James Potter or tasm!peter parker fluff or comfort?? I dont mind whatever you write ill love 🙏🙏

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: implied past abuse

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Peter’s having a rough week. These things always seem to happen to him. He’s got a big presentation at work on Friday, by which time the project he’s been underfunded and understaffed for has to be finished. His Aunt May has been busy with work, too, so either you or Peter is at her place most nights trying to help out, except she seems to think when it’s Peter it’s familial responsibility but when it’s you it's an unfair burden, so it’s mostly been Peter. There’s also an impressively organized cell of criminals he’s been trying to investigate before they blow up a bank or something. So of course, he’s sleep deprived to boot. 

And while you know the rough edge of frustration in his voice isn’t meant for you, hearing it makes your skin tighten nonetheless. 

“How does a person run out of salt?” Peter stalks through the front door and straight into the kitchen. “Or maybe the better question is, why does it take going to three bodegas to find one with salt in stock?”  

He’s soaked from the rain, and you feel guilty for being all cozied up on the couch while he’s been running around the city. Maybe it’s irrational, but you feel sort of like you should have been stressed out and cold all night, too. In solidarity. 

“May didn’t have salt?” you guess as Peter opens the fridge, stooping low to peer inside. 

“You should see her pantry, babe. It’s like everything either expired at the turn of the century or got bugs in it. Hey, did you make anything for dinner?” 

“No.” You hesitate. “You told me you wanted to eat at May’s, so I had the leftovers from last night.” 

“Shit.” He closes the fridge, resting his forehead on the door. “You’re right. I totally forgot, I only made enough for her.” 

“I’ll make something now.” You stand. Peter gives you a look that conveys both apology and gratitude as you join him in your small kitchen. “You feel like pasta?” 

“Thank you,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly. 

“Course,” you murmur. Really, it feels like the least you can do. “Would you mind chopping up some basil?” 

“For my own dinner?” Peter teases. The levity in his voice is obviously forced, and the air between you heavies as he realizes you’ve heard it too. 

You almost don’t want to ask, but you do want to be a supportive girlfriend. You can lend him a compassionate ear. “How was work today?” 

He sighs, grabbing the cutting board from a cabinet near your feet and shutting the door with perhaps a tad too much force. 

“It was…ahh.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, stooping again into the white fridge light to find the basil. It casts dark shadows underneath his eyes. “You’ve gotta be sick of hearing about this.” 

“It’s okay. Unless you don’t feel like talking about it.” 

“No, it’s just, how do they expect us to stick to their tight schedule when half of my lab is being pulled away to other projects all the time?” Peter’s knife slices through the basil, hitting the cutting board with a sharp thunk. “Today, we were down one intern who caught the stomach flu, and it set us way back. One intern shouldn’t be that crucial to a big project like this!” 

You hum, ignoring the way the back of your neck prickles. The tension emanating from Peter is completely valid, your reaction a bothersome, purposeless souvenir from an old life. You find yourself staring into the pot of water and waiting for it to boil. 

“And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but all the rest of us are working extra hours to try and get this done in time.” 

Small bubbles in the bottom of the pot, rising tentatively to the surface. Peter’s knife thunks a quickening rhythm on the cutting board. 

“If they’d given us the money we asked for, we could have hired more people, been working with better equipment, but instead—” The water starts to rumble, steam warming your face. It’s thick in your throat. “—it’s like we don’t even work for a top-notch lab. Like, do they think we really believe they don’t have any resources to spare?”

Peter’s voice is rising, irritation sharpening his words. You reach to turn down the stove when big bubbles reach the surface, splattering hot onto your wrist. You ignore the sting. 

“My boss keeps talking about how important this presentation is,” Peter goes on, opening the cabinet next to your head and reaching inside, “but if it were really important, he’d have—” He slams the cabinet door. 

You both freeze. 

To anyone else, it would look like nothing—the way your expression stays perfectly still, your muscles stiffening just slightly, the invisible pause in your heartbeat. But Peter knows you. 

“Sorry.” He sounds as breathless as you feel. “I’m sorry. You okay?” 

“Mhm.” Despite your best intentions, your voice comes out pitchy. You can’t make yourself move in a way that feels natural, so you stay not moving at all. Steam wafting warm up onto your face. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Peter says, tone softer than you’ve heard it in days. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to yell.” The roiling pot has calmed to a gurgle. You can see him swallow in your peripheral vision. “Can you look at me?” 

You take in what you hope is a subtle breath, turning to your boyfriend with a wan smile. “Sorry,” you manage. “I don’t know why I did that.” 

“It’s okay,” he says, brows bunched in the middle. Brown eyes like a puppy’s. 

He shifts his arms, a question, and you step into them. You do it more for him than for you, but the second Peter’s arms wrap around your back the last of the tension shudders out of you. You hug him back, rubbing between his shoulder blades reassuringly. 

“I scared you?” he asks, still in that soft voice like he’s afraid of startling you. It’s not really a question. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get so mad.” 

“You’re allowed to be mad,” you argue weakly. There’s an embarrassing blockage in your throat. “It’s not your fault if I freak out, you should still be allowed to vent.” 

“No, but I know how you are.” Peter squeezes your shoulders. “I can vent without slamming things. It’s not nice.” 

You don’t have much of an argument for that. Still, “You really shouldn’t be the one comforting me right now,” you point out. 

A light hum. “Says who? I’m feeling a lot better already.” His hand climbs up to cup the back of your neck, his face turning down so his lips rest on your head. “Should’a just gone straight for the hug when I got home. Might have saved us both a lot of ranting.” 

You push your face into his sweatshirt, mindless of its dampness. He smells like rainwater. You don’t know how you could ever have thought, even for a second, that someone like this could be capable of hurting you. 

“I’ll make a note of that,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, please do,” Peter teases, pressing a kiss to your head. He pulls away and sets two still-chilled hands on your face. “Are you really okay?” he asks sincerely. “I know how scared you get, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I did that to you.” 

“You didn’t mean to,” you tell him, “and it wouldn’t be your fault anyways. I’m really okay.” 

Your boyfriend nods, but he still looks troubled. “Another hug for good measure?” 

“For you or for me?” 

A corner of his mouth kicks up. “Does it matter?” 

It doesn’t really.