#i have to explain every thought i have about her

[girlgenius1111]

chosen

alexia putellas x reader after insisting on going to r's childhood home to spend christmas with her family, alexia helps r navigate a rather difficult reunion with rather difficult parents. angst -> fluff / comfort :)

—

It was almost embarrassing, bringing Alexia home to a family so devoid of love. She’d insisted, though, never having met your parents, even though you’d met her entire extended family multiple times. She’d explained it adorably, that she wanted to see where you came from and the people that raised you. You weren’t entirely sure how to tell her that none of that was worth seeing, so with several complaints, you’d agreed to return home for Christmas. Alexia could be difficult like that; when she wanted something, she was like a dog with a bone. 

She wanted you to get to spend Christmas with your family, and she was making it happen. No matter what you said. 

What you absolutely couldn’t have, though, was Alexia getting to your childhood home unprepared. She had to know what she was getting herself into, and you did your best to prepare her. It started with small things, telling her how your mother was very religious, or how your father was quiet and probably wouldn’t speak much. But you couldn’t stop thinking of things to warn her about, until you were on the plane sitting next to her, a whole speech about your mother and her disapproval of your career falling from your mouth. 

“And she’ll probably say something about us getting real jobs, and I just don’t want you to–”

Alexia cut you off, grabbing the hand that was gesturing wildly as you spoke and giving it a firm squeeze. “Amor, I have been hearing that for years from people. I can take it.” 

Her smile was nothing but reassuring, and you weren’t sure how to express just how difficult your parents and your family could be. Your girlfriend knew that your relationship with your family was strained, but you’d always been very tight-lipped about the details. You were filled to the brim with anxious anticipation, and you could tell Alexia didn’t understand why you seemed to be dreading this. Christmas at home with your family should, theoretically, be an enjoyable and fun time. 

It wouldn’t be. It hadn’t been, in all the years that you’d been travelling back home for it, and you knew it’d be even worse this year, because every second your mind would be consumed with being terrified of what your girlfriend would be thinking. Of your family and the way they viewed you, the way they spoke and belittled you. The fear that she would realize just how ugly and cruel your family could be and decide she didn’t want that in her life was all consuming. 

You’d always heard that a person was the truest version of themselves with their family. This sentiment had always horrified you, your greatest fear being that it was correct. The version of you around your parents was the worst version of yourself, and Alexia was about to see all of it. 

But didn’t Alexia deserve to see what she was getting herself into with you? In the end, this was what had you convinced to let her come home with you for the holidays. She deserved to know all of the person she was with.

“Amor, hey.” Alexia called, cupping your cheek with one hand as you focused back on her, apparently having gotten lost in your thoughts. “Where did you go just now?” 

Her eyes were crinkled with concern, her fingers soft on your cheek, and you felt the sudden appearance of tears pooling in your eyes. Her brow knitted together and she leaned closer, gently kissing your cheek. 

You inhaled deeply, letting her hand in yours ground you into the present. “I’m nervous. I don’t think you get that–”

Alexia interrupted you again, covering your mouth with her hand. “I understand that your family is difficult. I understand that your relationship with them is not the best. But maybe this can be your chance to try to mend things, no? And I promise, amorcita, nothing I see from your family will make me love you any less.” 

Alexia kissed you again before pulling you into her chest as best she could with the arm of the airplane seat in between you. You let her hold you, wondering if she was telling the truth. If she’d really still love you after… what you were increasingly sure would be a disaster was over. 

—

It started as soon as you arrived. There were a few moments of peace on the drive from the airport to your parents house, with Alexia practically smooshing her face against the window to get a glimpse of your hometown.  

And then you’d arrived, and within a few minutes of your arrival, your mother had commented on your hair, your clothes, your career, and your lack of time spent at home. Alexia was quiet, as you knew she would be, because she still felt insecure about her English, and she much preferred to listen to it than to speak it. 

Your parents seemed to like Alexia, at least, commenting on how put together she seemed, and how kind it was of her to bring the bottle of wine she had with her as a gift for them. You were still tense, though, standing in the pristinely white kitchen with your parents and your siblings, discussing the plans for the day. It was the 22nd, and there were still things needed to be done before everyone arrived on Christmas Eve. Alexia stood at your side, just observing. 

“Alright, what else does everyone need to do?” Your mother asked, taking out a notepad and holding her pen at the ready over it, as if you all weren’t adults that could remember simple tasks.

“I need to get the ingredients for the Christmas cookies I’m going to make.” You stated, having done all of your shopping already and sent it ahead. 

“Really? You’re going to make those cookies?” Your mother replied, her fast twisting with disgust. You shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Yes, everyone normally likes them.” 

Your mother exchanged a look with your father, smirking as she looked back at her list. “Honey, no one eats them. I throw most of them out every year when you’re not looking.” 

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you shrunk into yourself, head bowed as you stared at the floor and willed everyone to stop looking at you. This was what you’d always done; instead of arguing back, you’d shut down. They could say what they wanted, but you didn’t have to let it hurt you. You weren’t exactly sure how to stop it from hurting, but they didn’t have to know that. 

Yet as your Mom turned to your sister to ask her what she had left to do, Alexia stepped closer towards you, grabbing your hand and taking a deep breath. 

“I like the cookies. And so does the team, they always ask you to bring them.” Her voice was soft, words accented, but the room was silent. Your mother turned to look at her, an odd expression on her face, and you sighed internally. You could feel nothing but deep gratitude for Alexia, sweet loyal Alexia who loved anything you cooked and and refused to let even you criticize yourself. 

Your Mother chuckled, a cruel sound that made you wince. 

“You don’t need to lie, Alexia, you’re already way out of her league. You shouldn’t have to eat her awful baking too.” Your Mother joked, a glint in her eye that told you she wasn’t really joking.

Still, Alexia seemed offended at your mother’s words, and you should have known she would be. Her grip on your hand tightened, and she stepped in closer. 

“No, she is a good baker, and I–”

Your father cut Alexia off, speaking for the first time since you’d arrived. “Well, the Spanish do have weird tastes. Excessively affectionate, too.” His eyes flickered down to where your hand was intertwined with Alexia’s, his meaning clear in his tone. 

You felt Alexia’s hand slip from yours, and you could see out of the corner of your eye that she had turned red. This was a step too far. Making Alexia feel embarrassed for showing affection towards you… you could take everything they had to throw at you, but they were not allowed to mess with the best person you’d ever known. 

You stepped forward, despite the light tug on the back of your shirt from Alexia, clearly telling you to let it go. You couldn’t let it go; you could handle the disrespect from your parents, but you wouldn’t let them do the same to Alexia. 

“That was rude, Dad.” Your voice shook pathetically, the big stand you were taking seemed pitiful as soon as you tried to speak. 

Again, your parents just exchanged amused glances, and you could see out of the corner of your eye your siblings rolling their eyes. It seemed as if no one was on your side, and you weren’t sure why you were surprised. That’s how it always went. 

Without another word in your direction, your Mother turned to your siblings, asking them what they had left to do. Of course, there was no criticism of the cake your sister intended to bake, even though it always came out dry. No one told your brother that the amount of alcohol he was planning on getting was absurd. It seemed the humiliation was only reserved for you. 

The old feeling was back, the one of deep loneliness. You’d spent almost 18 years in this house, feeling like an outsider. Whenever you returned, it was like you reverted back to the 18 year old that had left, no matter how much time had passed. You always felt like an irrationally angry kid in the face of how your parents treated you, and you hated it. Always second guessing yourself, always half sure that you were the one in the wrong. Your parents, your brother and your sister, they all agreed that you were the problem. You were alone, here, like you always were. 

Another tug on your hand, though, reminded you that you weren’t actually alone. 

“Come on, show me your room.” Alexia whispered, her hands gentle as she guided you out of the room. She was shocked, to say the least, at your family’s treatment of you. She’d known you had a difficult relationship but she didn’t imagine it was like this. You’d been home for 10 minutes, seeing your parents for the first time in almost a year, and they’d wasted no time trying to embarrass you in front of her. She was hoping this was a one off, though, perhaps an inside joke she had misunderstood. So, she let you lead the way to your room, taking in the small space more critically than she normally would have. 

Her room at her mothers house was left practically untouched from when she’d moved out. It was filled with posters of footballers and old memories. Your room here, though, was devoid of any sentiment. No pictures, no decorations, nothing that made it feel like it had been yours. Alexia wasn’t sure if your parents had cleared away any trace of you from the room, or if it had never really been decorated in the first place. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, honestly. 

But as you leaned into her wordlessly for a hug as soon as the bedroom door shut behind you, Alexia began to worry. Making you bring her here was starting to feel like a mistake. She didn’t have the whole picture, or even most of it. All she knew was that she hated the blank expression on your face, and she hated the way you seemed to shrink into yourself around your parents. Like you’d rather disappear than be noticed by them. 

—

It wasn’t a one off, the awkward moment upon your immediate arrival home. It had barely been 24 hours, but Alexia had witnessed at least 5 different instances of your parents treating you like an inconvenient annoyance instead of the daughter they hadn’t seen in almost a year. 

First, it was your mother asking about your plans for when football ended. 

“All I’m saying, honey, is that you are not going to be able to find a good job with your school records.” She tutted, before turning to Alexia. “I swear, she didn’t finish a math or science class with more than a C her entire time in school.”  

Your mother smiled, as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Alexia’s face was one of both shock and horror. Her mami would never have said something even remotely close to what your mother had just said, even if Alexia had failed every class she’d ever taken. It was so unnecessary, and your girlfriend could see the weight your mother’s words had over you. 

It was more of the same from the day before; instead of saying anything in response, you just sank back into the couch, gaze fixed on the floor. This only seemed to mollify your mom, and as she kept talking, rehashing every test you’d failed, Alexia could see tears beginning to well in your eyes. 

“Her marks were so bad before she left for football, I don’t think she would have even graduated.” Your mother chuckled. It was untrue; your grades weren’t that bad. Not the best, sure, but you weren’t in any danger of failing or getting kicked out. Still, it was like your mouth was sealed shut, and saying anything in response wasn’t possible. You couldn’t defend yourself, you couldn’t even look up from the ground. It was pathetic. 

“Amor, can you help me choose what to wear tonight? I brought two sweaters, and I cannot decide.” 

Alexia didn’t wait for a response from you, standing and reaching for your hand, well past caring that your parents seemed to think of Alexia’s affection as something of an entertaining joke. You followed her down the hall and into your bedroom, her hand warm and soft in yours, only making the sob caught in your throat more difficult to keep in. 

As soon as you were safely in your sadly bare bedroom, though, she was wrapping you up tight in her arms. 

You tried to defend yourself, mortified at everything your mother had said, words mumbled into Alexia’s sweatshirt. “I’m not dumb. She made it sound like I’m dumb, but–”

Alexia cut you off, holding you even tighter. “You are not dumb, I know this. Do not listen to her, do not even think about it. You are so intelligent, mi amor, I promise you.” 

Your body began to shake in her arms, a quiet thank you breaking the brief silence. You were crying, and it was all Alexia could do to keep holding you until the tears stopped. What else could she say? 

But for every conversation that followed in which your mother attempted to belittle you or make you feel bad, Alexia would find an excuse to pull you away. 

When your mother expressed her distaste for your haircut, Alexia practically wrote you a poem in the garage about how much she loved your hair. 

When your father made a thinly veiled comment about how you were most definitely not invited to church the following day, as the other families would be judgemental about your lifestyle, Alexia was right beside you, trying to hold back her absolute fury. She forced a smile, telling your father it was better you both stay home, because ignorance and stupidity were not worth engaging with. 

When your mother suggested you eat a salad instead of the pasta you were going to order for dinner, Alexia very pointedly informed your mother that you were among the fittest on the team. And later, laying in bed, when she could tell you were still thinking about the comment, she… reminded you how much she loved your body. Twice. 

Alexia had an answer for everything, a way to make your chest stop squeezing whenever your mother opened her mouth. You weren’t sure how she was doing it, weren’t sure why she was possibly still here. After all of your flaws were explicitly laid out in front of her, she seemed only more determined to make it clear how much she loved you. 

It was easier, one you decided to just focus on Alexia and not what your parents had to say. With her there with you, it felt like this was a trip you could maybe get through. 

But then Alexia offered to take the family dog for a long walk while you caught up with your sister, by far your favorite member of the family. She thought it was important that you have time together, and she didn’t mind a bit of time away from the loud chaos that had taken over the house.  

She left with the dog, returning only 45 minutes later, with no idea what her absence had given the opportunity for. 

Alexia came back into the house, unhooking the dog from his leash, the smile falling from her face when she sensed the tension in the room. You were nowhere to be seen, and your parents looked beyond furious, clattering around angrily in the kitchen as they cooked. Your sister sat on the couch, guilt written across her face. 

“She’s in her room, go,” your sister whispered, catching Alexia’s eye and giving her a meaningful nod. It didn’t take a mind reader to understand what had happened. Things had been on the brink with your parents the short time you’d been home. It seemed everything had finally boiled over. Alexia moved towards your room as fast as was socially acceptable, knocking softly on the door before opening it. You were sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, face wet with tears. 

“Oh, mí bebe,” Alexia whispered, shutting the door quietly behind her and lowering herself onto the ground next to you. Her strong arms pulled you into a tight hug, and you burrowed into her, not minding the chill of her skin from the cold outside. No hug had ever felt warmer. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, feeling guilt upon guilt at the fact that you’d brought your girlfriend into this environment, even if she’d insisted on it. How embarrassed she must be, to see you so easily humiliated by your parents. She must be rethinking everything, your whole relationship. 

But, as Alexia was often inclined to do, she surprised you, tenderly wiping away your tears and giving you a reassuring smile. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, nothing.” She assured you, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

“Then let’s go. We can get flights back to Spain. Be home before Christmas, spend it ourselves. Just us.” 

“You’d do that?” 

“Of course I would, amor.”

“You wanted to come here, though, I don’t want to ruin everything,”

Alexia cut you off. “I don’t want to be anywhere that makes you unhappy.” She said softly. You looked up at her finally, and the adoring expression on her face as she gazed down at you was almost overwhelming. 

“Okay.” You murmured, pressing your face into her shoulder. She held you close, pulling out her phone to buy tickets on the next flight out. Once that was done, she guided you away from the safety of her sweatshirt, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Get packing. I am going to speak to your parents.” 

“Ale,”

“No. I am. Stay here, pack. I will be back in a moment.” 

—

You couldn’t be sure what Alexia said to your parents. They didn’t speak as you left the house, and neither did either of your siblings. They all just watched you go, a somewhat impressed look on your sister’s face. Alexia wouldn’t tell you, either, saying she’d just told them what they needed to hear. 

The next half a day or so went by in a blur. You were emotionally exhausted from being home, and Alexia practically had to drag you through the airport once you’d landed in Barcelona. Before you knew it, you were at Alexia’s mother’s house for Christmas Eve. Eli had been delighted to have the both of you home, not saying a single word about how you were supposed to be at your family’s home. 

You could relax, finally, at Eli’s house with people you felt comfortable around. You loved Alexia’s family, loved how they all seemed excited to see you, asked you enthusiastic questions about your life. It was nice, spending the holidays with them. With Alexia’s arms around your shoulders, making sure you were always tucked into her side, and her family so happily chatting around you, it was so nice to be around a happy, loving family. 

Happy, though, wasn’t all you felt. You watched Alexia with her Mami, her cousins and her aunts and uncles. She fit so easily, smiling widely as she joked around with them. Alexia was loved by her family, but you were not. You never had been and you didn’t understand why.  

There had to be over 50 people in the house, and you were confident that no one would notice if you slipped off, just for a minute. Someone had noticed. Alba noticed the tears in your eyes, too, the ones you hadn’t even been aware of. So, while you darted off to the bathroom, the brunette went in search of her sister. 

She found her in a crowd of her uncles, in a heated argument about some football tactic. Alba didn’t have the patience to wait until the conversation had ended, and knew that if Alexia had seen you just a few moments before, she wouldn’t either. 

“Ale.” Alba said quietly, pulling on her sister’s arm. The blonde shook her off, barely turning her head to look at her as she did so. “Alexia, now.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Alexia exited the conversation. “Ay dios mio, what, Alba?” she huffed, dragging her feet as Alba yanked her in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Your girlfriend snuck away, and it looked like she was crying. Just thought you’d want to know.” Alba snapped with a frown, turning on her heel and stomping away. Alexia would fix that later, she thought. 

“Amor?” Alexia called, knocking quietly. “Are you in there?” 

She heard a deep inhale, and then your shaky voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.” 

Alexia tried the handle again. “Let me in, please.” 

A moment passed before the lock clicked open and Alexia practically threw herself through the door and into the bathroom. 

Your makeup was running, and you were desperately trying to mop up the tears still streaming down your face. 

“Come here.” Alexia said simply, opening her arms for you to collapse into. It was a good thing she was wearing a black sweater, or there’d have been mascara visible all over it. You sniffled against her for a few moments, and she didn’t push you to talk. She ran her hand through your hair, leaving a light kiss on the top of your head. 

You pulled away after a moment, reaching for a tissue, but Alexia grabbed one before you could, gently wiping away the tears and running makeup off your face. She had a frown set on her face, and you misunderstood the cause. 

“I’m sorry. I’m okay, you can go back to your family.” 

Her frown deepened. ���Do not say sorry. What upset you? Did someone say something?” 

You shook your head, feeling more tears well up in your eyes though you knew you really shouldn’t be crying anymore about this.  “No, no one said anything.” You were wilting under Alexia’s stern gaze, so she made a conscious effort to soften, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. 

“Tell me what has you so upset.” She encouraged, pulling your body closer into hers. 

You exhaled shakily, not quite sure how to explain it without sounding like an awful, pathetic person. “I… it’s just…” 

Alexia sighed, resting her hand on your cheek and encouraging you to look up at her. “You can tell me, bebé. Whatever it is, you can always tell me.” 

“It’s hard.” You mumbled eventually, studying the floor under your feet very closely.  

“What is hard?” 

“Being here.” You admitted. “With your family who all adore you, and they should, it’s just that my family… they don’t… and I just want…” Your voice broke and you slammed your mouth shut, unwilling to allow yourself to break down again. 

“Amor,” Alexia breathed, engulfing you once more in a tight hug. “I know. It is not fair the way they treat you, I am so sorry. It makes sense that this is hard, I understand.” 

You held tight to your girlfriend, letting the smell of her perfume wash over you. Alexia always knew what to say. Always knew how to make you feel better. You didn’t deserve someone as good as her, you were sure of that. As if reading your thoughts, Alexia leaned away from the hug and cradled your face in her hands. 

“Let’s go home. I have a surprise for you there.” Her face was so earnest and hopeful, you felt your heart melt. 

“But your family–”

“They will understand, and I am pretty sure they will not even notice us leave anyway, it is so loud in here, everyone loves to hear the sound of their own voice.” With a fond roll of her eyes and a half smile, Alexia had you convinced. She made sure the makeup that had run while you cried was wiped off your face, before expertly leading you out of the house. As she said, most of her family was too busy chatting to notice Alexia pulling you through the crowd, though she did stop to say goodbye to her mother. Eli gave you a tight hug, sending the two of you on your way with a large shopping bag full of wrapped gifts. 

It didn’t seem to bother Alexia, leaving early. In fact, she seemed so excited about whatever surprise she had for you at home that she was practically bouncing in the driver’s seat. Her excitement remained all the way home, until you were sitting on the sofa in your shared apartment, hands dutifully covering your eyes. 

There was some rustling in the front hall closet, what sounded like a box falling from a shelf and Alexia’s voice quietly swearing. You smiled to yourself, hearing her footsteps approach, before something was placed in your lap. 

“Okay! Open!” Alexia sang, sitting on the edge of the coffee table just in front of you. Opening your eyes, you found a gift bag resting in your lap, puffy as though it was a bit too small for whatever was inside, tissue paper haphazardly covering the opening of the bag. “Come on! Open!” 

You chuckled, pulling the tissue paper out of the reindeer covered bag, and reaching in. Before you had even processed the fabric in your hands, Alexia was leaning in to kiss you, bursting with eagerness. 

“It is matching Christmas pajamas!” She burst out, grinning from ear to ear as you unfolded the red and white plaid pajama pants, white long sleeve shirts with a well decorated christmas tree adorning the front. 

You couldn’t help but match her energy, smiling back at her as she explained herself. 

“I looked up Christmas traditions we could start, just ourselves. I have a whole list, and this is the first thing on the list. New matching pajamas every Christmas Eve. A new… our family tradition.” 

It shouldn’t have surprised you, that Alexia thought of you as her family, but maybe you just weren’t expecting anyone to choose you when your family wouldn’t even do that. You dropped the pajamas into your lap, pulling her in for a soft kiss. “You’re the sweetest. I love it. And I love you.” 

“I love you more.” Alexia whispered, kissing you again before pulling you to your feet. “Let’s put them on and watch a Christmas movie!” 

It didn’t matter that Alexia didn’t particularly care for Christmas movies. Not when she was waiting for you on the bed, her set of pajamas looking adorable on her. Her fading blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her face broke into a massive smile when she saw you in your set of pajamas. 

And as you laid in Alexia’s arms, plaid pajama covered legs tangled together as a Christmas movie played on the TV, it didn’t matter so much that you didn’t have your family to celebrate with. You had Alexia, and that was more than enough. 

—

have not proofread this so pls tell me if you find a typo

i hope you enjoy! i know the holidays aren't always enjoyable for everyone, and honestly it's gonna be a weird one for me, but i hope everyone feels loved and appreciated this year.

[totalswag]

can you do something with singer!reader having a christmas special like sabrina and when she talks about her boyfriend it’s drew that comes out dressed as santa and everyone realizes immediately.

oh my santa drew ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note if you havent watched the nonsense christmas on Netflix you should hehe. thank you for the request lovie! its a great request since christmas is right around the corner. writing this was so much fun and adding my own little bits in there. there's a couple lines from the actual skit too.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

summary drew coming in as a surprised guest on a nonsense christmas.

warning(s) none just funny humor and drew dressed as santa

A Nonsense Christmas. 

This thought occurred to me one day at the beginning of this year. Christmas is your favorite time to celebrate, it was ideal. You've had incredible artists join you to perform songs and special guests for comedy skits—Tyla, Kali Uchis, Chappell Roan, and so many other talented guests.

It's been an absolute blast filming everything. The whole vibe of this small series is unbelievably funny and gets you in the holiday spirit.

Drew, your boyfriend, dresses up as Santa Claus in this skit. You wanted him to participate in this experience with you. He insisted on being Santa after you told him the final idea. No one knows about it except for the people working on set. Fans and the audience will be surprised.

The past few weeks Drew’s been walking around the house acting like Santa and going into character with his lines—No joke.

It starts off with you sitting on the single chair in front of your two friends, Alice and Max, talking about your boyfriend they haven't met. The living room set is decked Christmas out with a tree decorated behind you along with everything magical. 

"I can't wait to finally meet your man, Debbie, you haven't been hanging out with us since getting into a relationship," Alice asks, giggling at the end of her sentence. 

You quickly chuckle sarcastically, and Max joins in.

"No, I understand. Because we are doing long distance, it's been difficult to mix friend groups," you explain, making a combing hand motion. "You get what I'm saying?" you ask, leaning in slightly, squinting your eyes.

"Girl, I completely understand," Max shrugs his shoulders, offering you a nice nod of understatement, “I promise we will love him” he smiles.

Your face softens, "Aw, thank you both. I promise you, he will not disappoint," you wink playfully. 

Just wait till they see who walks through that door.

Your voice appears promising to them at that point. 

Your phone rings out of nowhere, and you pick it up; a mysterious boyfriend is ready to make his official entrance. "Oh, speak of the devil, he's walking up now," you shriek with delight as you get up from your seat and dance over to the front door—your famous tippy toe dance

Drew walks through the door dressed head-to-toe in a Santa Claus outfit, strode in with a jolly demeanor. His red suit, black boots, and fluffy white beard were undeniably festive.

Max and Alice exchanged puzzled looks, their jaws almost touching the floor. "Uh, is this…?" Alice inquired, her eyes wide in shock.

Debbie please be so for real...

"Is that Santa in front of me, or am I seeing things?" Before taking a close look, Max emphasizes the word "that." He squints his eyes and then turns to face Alice. "Yep, that's definitely Santa," he adds swiftly after reaching his conclusion.

Alice's jaw instantly closes as she tries to contain her composure and confusion over your boyfriend's sudden appearance as Santa.

"Guys, everyone, this is my boyfriend, Nick!" you cheer as you let Nick pass in front of you. introducing him to friends with a broad smile on your face. 

Max's mouth falls open, too stunned to speak. As she raises her eyebrows in amusement, Alice is attempting to piece together how this might have happened.

“I’ve heard nothing but great things about you two, It’s great to meet you” Drew says in character, pointing at Alice and Max. He smiles underneath the white bread.

Drew puts his left arm around your shoulder as you sit on his lap, putting your hands on your knees and grinning. You subconsciously find the Santa impression impressive.

With a gesture between Alice and himself, Max says, "Aw, same, um, as us..." pausing for a quick moment looking around, "Would you like anything to drink or snack on by any chance?" Curious, Max asks

Nick looks at Max and says, "Oh, um, maybe a warm glass of milk with." He sits down right away. "And a huge chocolate chip cookie topped with shards of sprinkles?" Nick added, highlighting the final phrase. 

"Yuck," Alice responds hastily.

You quickly drop your smile, looking at her. What did she say about my man?

Max frowns slowly and says, "Uh oh, I think we are out of shards." He then slowly turns, side-eyeing Alice—still attempting to take everything in.

When Nick sees that his clothing is covered in soot, he excuses himself to go upstairs to the restroom, leaving the three of you below until he returns.

As he reaches the steps, you watch him closely until Alice says, "Hey, this is actually insane but, um, that's Santa Claus, right?" She points up the stairs while posing mocking questions.

You look shocked in a moment. You respond, "Oh my god," while gazing at her as though she were crazy. You inquire informally, "What kind of messed up thing is that to say?"

The two of them ask you whether you are serious about the relationship or if it's a trick.

Max interrupts, "Debbie, girl, it's not messed up. Think about it, big white scruffy beard?" He was making bread motions with his hands.

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “well he decided to do no shave November, for your information.”

“And he has the classic big belly?” Alice tries putting her point clear.

Dramatically gasping at her comment, “And there it is, the body shaming begins,” throwing your hands in the air, Alice and Max make eye contact with each other wondering if your delusions will come to an end—Max quietly scoffs. 

"What kind of Mean Girls situation is this? You say, "Can't believe this," in an attempt to come seem as offended by their critical remarks. 

Alice mumbles to herself, "Okay, relax," as she scratches the back of her head looking around the room. 

You begin detailing his character and making it quite clear that he is Santa without actually stating so. When Nick came down the stairs, your two friends decided to stop commenting.

Max and Alice thank him for giving them gifts, and Nick flicks his fingers when he realizes he left something in the car and will be right back. "So, how does he make enough money to buy us all these presents?" Max glances in your direction.

You keep telling them that he described his exact job, but you were too preoccupied to pay attention and found it dull at the time. "If I'm not mistaken, toy manufacturer," you shrug your shoulders.

“Uh, Deb, you won’t be happy from what I’m gonna say,” Alice leans in, “that’s what Santa does,” she explains speaking in a high-pitched voice.

"Like I said before, he's not Santa Claus, his job doesn't even pay, and I don't—" You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the rooftop.

Is this girl okay? Max thinks to himself.

"Is your boyfriend on the roof?" Alice asks you a suspicious inquiry.

You laugh uneasily, "He's probably fixing something up there, right? He would have noticed something," you explain, "my partner can actually make something," smiling sarcastically, "like a guy," you swiftly shift your head over at Max, making a remark about what his boyfriend does for a living.

We weren't expecting to hear those words from you.

"Besides, if he was Santa," you pause, "then why is he so good in bed?" You cross your arms together, lean back against the chair, and give them a peculiar look.

The two chuckle in their chairs. "Oh, well, I didn't read that in the text," Alice replies drastically as though your remark had upset her.

A little while later, Nick shows up at the house with two gift boxes for your two friends. Your face lights up when you see him giving your two pals thoughtful gifts. Your words, "How thoughtful of you, my love!"

They had no idea how to find their gifts in front of them when they opened them and saw what they had long yearned for. You wonder how Nick knew they desired those gifts as you point to them. 

Everyone on stage and in the crowd bursts out laughing when Owen, who portrays Max, unintentionally fires the soft nerf bullet, striking Megan, Alice's character, on the side of her face. It was more humorous—Megan was fine, too.

Max and Alice, becoming all sensual in the moment, said they wrote letters to Santa Claus and just wished for them. You sigh softly and stare down at your feet. "Well, if he's really Santa, he would know that the only thing I asked for as a little girl was singing a duet with Shania Twain," you pout.

Is she coming out?

Is it my turn yet?

Suddenly, Shaian Twain enters the home door dressed as Mrs. Claus and asks to see her husband. After figuring everything out, you exclaim, "You are married?!" As you rise from your chair, your voice is full of shock and sadness.

Nick and Shain Twain explain their relationship and being open in sharing. Everyone in the living room is in a state of shock, except for Alice and Max. You quickly point to Nick, “He’s not Santa!” you raise your voice—voice cracking a little.

The audience laughs as they clap once the skit ends.

You giggle as you follow Drew after everyone has left the stage. "You did such a good job doing the Santa impression baby," you say, giving him a playful sideways nudge. 

He replies nonchalantly, as like he didn't need to practice, "Oh you know, gotta show them who the real boss is but it comes naturally."

You laugh, "Dork."

You decide to snap a quick photo of Drew before he can do anything else while he's staring at you from the couch in the dressing room with his bogus beard still on. You suddenly say, "Say cheese, Santa!" and take him by surprise.

You take a close look at the image on your screen, thinking, "Perfect for our Christmas card this year."

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

@chenslucy @whorelaud @drewsephrry @runningfrom2am @diqldrunks @rosezza @rafeyslamb @mymultiveres @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @yanna2coolz @stevesxwhore

[imagine-you]

Think I Only Want You Under My Mistletoe [Logan/Reader]

Summary: In which you need a fake date to your parent's Christmas party, Logan volunteers, and you realize that maybe your unrequited crush isn't so unrequited after all. May include: Fake Dating, Real Feelings, Meddlesome Friends, Terrible Parents, and Mistletoe. Word Count: 5.5k Author's Notes: Part of my In Another Life, Perhaps 'verse. In which they're stuck in a Hallmark Movie Universe??? Either way, Merry Christmas, y'all! 🎄

Read on AO3

"Ugh," you groaned, letting your face fall into your hands. You figured it was better than hitting your head against the table in the hopes that your situation would suddenly change.  

"What's wrong?" Ororo asked, studying you across the break room table.  

“My whole life,” you grumbled, knowing you were being childish, but glad that none of your students were around to see it.  

You had managed to get a brief moment of respite from the teenagers roaming the halls of the X-Mansion by retreating to the makeshift teacher's lounge located in a room tucked away near the kitchen. All of you had worked to make it your own space.  

Hank had lugged in a refrigerator and at some point a microwave had shown up on someone's repurposed nightstand. Charles had offered to pay for whatever the staff might have wanted, but all of you seemed to want to fill the room with personal touches and effects. So, someone had dragged in an old table that must have been stored in the attic and other people stole desk chairs from unoccupied rooms. Over time, a coffeemaker had been added along with a small cabinet full of snacks. There were also photos along the wall, candid and professional shots of the staff.  

Your favorite was a group shot where most of you were making a goofy face. Your eyes were always drawn to Remy doing bunny ears behind Logan’s head and Logan in the middle of snarling at Remy to cut it out, but there was just the tiniest bit of a grin peeking at the edges of Logan’s mouth.  

He swore he hated you all, but you knew better. He was part of the family and there was a reason he had stuck around despite his own protests.  

The lounge was one of your favorite places to be and it was even better when you were joined by your fellow teachers and friends. It was a bonus perk knowing that none of the kids were allowed. You loved teaching and you loved all the bright, young students taking up residence in the mansion, but it was nice to get a break from time to time.  

 Especially when you needed a safe place to vent your frustrations about every wrong turn your life seemed to take.  

“No, really, what’s wrong?” Ororo asked again.  

"My parents," you sighed, sliding the invitation you received earlier that morning across the table so she could read it.  

"What's the big deal, sugar?" Rogue wondered, leaning over Ororo’s shoulder so she could read the paper as well. "Sounds like a good time." 

"Every year, it's always the same," you explained, reaching out to grab the invitation when Ororo handed it back. "My parents invite me to their Christmas party and I go because I love them, but I end up having a miserable time." 

"If it's so miserable, why bother going?" Logan asked from where he was leaning up against the table that held the coffeemaker and microwave. He was sipping a beer and looked relaxed in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. You had a fleeting thought that Logan looked really good and you hoped Charles or Jean hadn't managed to catch that.  

Charles had only grown more meddlesome in his old age and you certainly didn’t need him trying to set you up with Logan. And Logan had been infatuated with Jean for as long as you had known him. You really didn’t cherish the idea of her knowing she had something you desperately wanted.  

"It's complicated," you tried, but rolled your eyes when Logan simply arched a brow at you, unimpressed with your attempt at deflection. "My parents aren't so fond of mutants," you finally conceded, unsurprised at Logan's snort and shake of his head.  

"I might be missing something here, but you're a mutant, aren't you?" Remy asked as he dropped down into the chair at Rogue's side. He let his arm stretch across the back of her chair and you noticed the way she leaned into him, careful not to let her skin brush against him.  

You hadn't noticed Remy enter the room, since you had been so focused on Logan. You shrugged your shoulders, staring morosely at the rest of your sandwich. "Yeah," you sighed, meeting Remy's gaze. "They love me. They do," you insisted at Remy's incredulous look. "But they want me to be normal. I only see them a couple times a year, since I'm usually here with the X-Men, and every year at Christmas, without fail, I show up without a date like an idiot. And then my parents try to set me up with some normal human guy as if that will make me somehow more acceptable to them." 

"That sure sounds a lot like conditional love, sugar," Rogue mused, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Why don't you just skip out on the party this year? Save yourself the hassle?" 

"Because as much as they've royally fucked me up with all their anti-mutant bullshit, I still love them. I can't help it. So, if I have to suffer through another year of trying to ward off some random jackass' advances while my parents stand there smiling as if they can't see how uncomfortable I am? Then I'll deal with the torture if I can make them happy for a few minutes." 

Silence invaded the room and you suddenly got the sense that every person in the room was staring at you. You didn't realize until you said it out loud just how fucked up your situation with your parents really was, but you were so deep into it that you didn't know if you'd ever be able to claw your way free.  

"Well," Ororo started, leaning forward across the table and placing a hand on your arm, as if trying to offer you comfort. "If you want them to stop meddling, then show up with a date. Break the cycle." 

"But that's the problem," you protested, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm not dating anyone, so I don't have a date." 

"Well, it's not like it's got to be a real one, darling. Why I'm sure Remy would love to go with you. Your parents will sure get a kick out of him," Rogue offered, reaching out to settle a gloved hand on Remy's shoulder.  

Remy offered you a smirk before holding out his hand with his palm turned up. You furrowed your brow as you rested your hand in his and laughed when he pulled your hand close and kissed it.  

"It would be my pleasure," he vowed with a wink.  

You glanced from Remy to Rogue and then back again, realizing they were completely serious. You knew your parents would flip when they met Remy. He was charming, but chaotic, and sure to piss your parents off. If his red, glowing eyes didn't give away that he was a mutant, then you were sure it would only be a matter of time before he blew something up.  

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad showing up with a date. Remy was your friend and you knew that he would do whatever it took to make sure you weren't cornered by some asshole who had been misled by your parents into thinking you were on the market. You felt safe with Remy and maybe for once you might actually enjoy one of your parent's Christmas parties.  

 "Alright," you decided, nodding your head as you drew you hand back. "Yeah, that sounds like--" 

"I'll do it," Logan interrupted, startling you.  

You had completely forgotten he was practically standing right behind you. You turned in your chair to look at him. You were surprised to see him studying you, expression intent.  

"What?" You blurted, sure that you had misheard Logan.  

"I'll be your date," Logan offered before casually raising his beer and taking a sip, as if he hadn't sent your heart into a frenzy.  

"You don't have to," you assured him, not sure how you would be able to handle Logan as a date to your parent's Christmas party. It wasn't that you didn't want to go with Logan, because you absolutely did. The problem was that you had had a pathetic crush on him the moment you first laid eyes on him, but Logan was notoriously head over heels for Jean. 

 Even though she was married to Scott, you had heard time and again from practically every person on the X-Men that Logan had been in love with her from the first moment he met her. So, you wouldn't be able to handle a fake date with Logan, because you would spend the whole time desperately wishing that it was real.  

"I want to," Logan insisted, finally standing up out of his slouch against the table that had been converted into a coffee bar. He rolled his shoulders, like he was preparing for a fight, and you wondered why he was being so adamant about being your date.  

"That's sweet of you, Logan, but Remy already offered, and--," you tried before you were cut off by Logan again.  

"I'll do it," Logan stressed, a hint of a growl in his voice as he stared down Remy like he was challenging him to something.  

You glanced from Logan to Remy to Logan again.  

"What the hell is going on," you muttered, shooting a bewildered look at Ororo and Rogue to see if they were as confused as you were.  

Rogue looked amused and Ororo was watching Logan with an arched brow. But neither one seemed to be questioning the events that were playing out before them.  

After what seemed like hours of intense eye contact between the two, Remy finally held up his hands in surrender. He shot you a wink, ignoring Logan's grunt of protest.  

"I'm sure our Logan will do a fine job playing your paramour," Remy added, reaching out to run his fingers along your arm. "But if it doesn't work out, you know where to find me." 

Logan grumbled something under his breath before he strode over. He snatched the invitation off the table, succeeding in separating you and Remy, before he skimmed over the page.  

"How long will it take to get there?" Logan asked, glancing down at you.  

"It's about a three-hour drive from here," you told him, trying not to focus too much on the fact that Logan was so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. The fabric of his sweatpants was dangerously close to brushing against your arm and you had to force yourself to stay absolutely still, because you weren't even sure what you would do if you allowed yourself to move.  

"Be ready to leave by four tomorrow, then," Logan ordered before he placed his empty bottle of beer on the table between you and Remy and left the room.  

You stared at the door for a moment before finally turning your gaze on the three people patiently waiting for you to break free of your stupor.  

"What the hell just happened?" You wondered, still trying to catch up.  

"What happened," Remy started, leaning back in his seat and placing his arm along the back of Rogue's chair again, "my beautiful, clueless friend, is that Ororo here owes me twenty dollars." 

"What," you muttered, watching helplessly as Ororo handed Remy the money she evidently owed him.  

"It was only a matter of time," Remy continued, tucking the money away in his pocket. "Logan's wanted you for years." 

You scoffed, ready to deny it, but shut up at Ororo's eye roll.  

"I thought he would never make a move, but Remy had far more faith in Logan than I did." 

"A move? What move? There wasn't a move," you insisted.  

"Swooping in and stealing you away from a fake date with my Remy? That was a move," Rogue assured you, grinning at you. "It was only a matter of time. Everyone knows about Logan's feelings except for you."   

"There are no feelings, because he's been pining for Jean for years," you reminded them. You stood up, grabbing the invitation off the table, and fixed them all with a determined look. "You're all wrong, you know that? Nothing's going to happen between Logan and me," you told them before leaving the room.  

You clutched the paper in your hands and tried to ignore the fact that you really, really wanted something to happen between you and Logan.  

The next afternoon, you were nearly done getting dressed when someone knocked on your door. You glanced at the clock, realizing it was nearly four, and rushed to pull on your jacket as you walked to the door.  

You opened the door and stood, stunned, at the sight of Logan dressed in a dark t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. This was as close to dressed up as Logan got and you didn't get why he was going to all the effort just for you or your mutant-hating parents.  

"Did you shave?" You blurted, noting that his usual scruff was a little more contained than usual.  

Logan shrugged his shoulders, stepping to the side and gesturing for you to lead the way. You narrowed your eyes at him as you passed him, making for the front door of the mansion. Logan reached out and stopped you with a hand on your elbow, steering you towards the garage instead.  

"Are we taking your bike?" Temperatures were quickly dropping outside and you didn't exactly want to freeze your ass off even if you would be pressed up against Logan.  

"Nope," Logan answered, not bothering to clarify until he was standing right beside Scott's car.  

"Are we stealing Summers' car?"  

Logan held up the keys, flashing you a quick grin. "Asked for permission this time," he informed you before rounding the car and pulling open the passenger side door. He stood there, watching you expectantly, before you finally forced yourself to move.  

"Thanks," you told him, gifting him with a smile, before settling into the passenger seat.  

Logan gently closed the door for you before moving towards the driver's side. It wasn't long before he was pulling the car out of the garage as you put your parent's address into the navigation system. Christmas music faintly played, filling the silence between you, and you kept shooting nervous looks over at Logan. His shoulders were tense and his hands periodically clenched the steering wheel tight. You couldn’t tell if he was regretting his decision or feeling just as anxious as you were.  

The silence began to feel excruciatingly awkward, but you didn't know how to fill it. You spent so long staring resolutely out the window that you didn't even notice when you began to drift off, your head lolling back against the headrest as your eyes closed.  

"Y/N," Logan called, his hand on your shoulder cautiously shaking you awake.  

"What?" You grumbled, reluctantly opening your eyes and squinting over at him.  

Logan looked enraptured, a soft smile on his face as he studied you.  

"We're here," he told you, prompting you to look out the windshield to the sight of your parent's home. Logan had parked the car in the long, winding driveway. There were already several cars parked along the side of it, which only made the driveway seem longer. "So, your family's loaded, huh?" 

"Yeah," you groaned with a grimace. "Why do you think they keep trying to marry me off to all their rich friend's sons? They want their legacy to continue or whatever bullshit goes on in their heads." 

"Damn," Logan sighed, shaking his head. "Good thing you won't have to worry about that this year, huh?"  

You nodded your head, finally making yourself look at Logan again. You reached out, tentative, and placed your hand on his arm. "Logan?" 

"Yeah?" He asked, staring down at your hand before turning slightly in his seat to face you.  

"Thanks," you said, pulling your hand away when you realized you had been touching him for way too long to be normal. "For doing this," you clarified, ignoring the way your cheeks flushed at his attention. "You really didn't have to, you know." 

Logan stared at you for one drawn-out intense moment and you fought the urge to look away. You inanely felt like you were in a predator's sights, which was stupid because Logan would never hurt you, but you still felt like you were being hunted. 

"Yeah, I did," he finally responded, his gaze lingering on you before he glanced away.  

Before you could question him, Logan got out of the car. You stared at the closed driver's side door for a moment before you took a deep breath and opened the passenger door. Logan met you just as you were getting out and he closed the car door for you.   

He held out his arm and you linked yours with his as you headed up towards the house. You had to stop yourself from swaying into Logan's side. There was a feeling rising within you that you weren't sure how to contain. It was anticipation and longing and fear, because if you fucked this up, then what would you do? It would be awkward living and working in the same place as Logan and you hated the idea of avoiding him all to save yourself some dignity.  

Before you were ready, you were standing on your parent's doorstep, hesitant to announce your arrival.  

"What's wrong?" Logan asked, nudging you in the side with his elbow.  

"We can leave," you blurted, avoiding his gaze. "We can leave and just skip this year and they never have to know I was here." 

Logan sighed before unhooking his arm from yours and wrapping it around your shoulders. "I've got you," he promised. "Now ring the damn doorbell." 

"That was almost sweet," you muttered, grinning at Logan's snort of amusement.  

You reluctantly reached out to ring the doorbell, wincing at the chime you had heard throughout all your childhood. It meant you were home and not where you really belonged at the X-Mansion. You were still debating the merits of just making a run for it when the door opened and you were met with the sight of your mother.  

She looked genuinely happy to see you, which was really one of the only things that was keeping you rooted to the spot. But then she realized you weren't alone and she turned her attention towards Logan. The warmth in her smile faded into something more polite and suited for company.  

"Oh, you brought a friend," your mom observed, the corners of her mouth turning down in disapproval.  

"I brought a date," you corrected her, trying not to startle when Logan dropped his hold on your shoulders and instead grabbed your hand. Feeling Logan lace his fingers through yours felt like the greatest thing ever and you hated that he was only doing it for show.  

"And who is this?" Your mom asked, already dismissive of Logan despite knowing nothing about him.  

She knew one thing, you thought, doing your best not to scowl at your mom. She hadn't picked Logan for you, so of course he wasn't good enough.  

"Logan, ma'am," he introduced with a nod of his head.  

"And how do you know my daughter, Logan?" Your mom interrogated, staring him down as if she could make him disappear if she concentrated hard enough.  

It was then you realized your mom was refusing to move until she got her answers. Your mom hated being perceived as rude and you knew she must really not want Logan there if she wasn't even going to pretend to welcome him.  

"Y/N and I work together and--" Logan cut himself off and shot you a wary look. You shook your head, letting him know not to tack on that you practically lived together as well. "We work together," he settled on with a small shrug of his shoulders.  

"Are you one of those?" Your mom asked, gesturing briefly towards you.  

You felt Logan tense up at your side and knew that trouble was fast approaching. Logan smiled at your mom, practically baring his teeth, and cocked his head to the side. "A mutant?" He supplied, practically not blinking as he met your mom's unimpressed stare with one of his own. "You could say that, sure," he added with a dangerous smirk that sent warning bells ringing in your head.  

You tightened your hold on Logan's hand, lending him your own brand of moral support while also hoping to shut him up. "Mom, it's cold out here," you hinted, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe you should invite us in.” 

"Right," she muttered before stepping aside. "Why don't you and your...date," she practically sneered, "come in?" 

"Thanks," Logan told your mom, offering her a wide, unsettling smile. "Your hospitality is appreciated." 

You had never really seen Logan like this before. Maybe once or twice when he was in the same room as Scott and Jean and he wanted to get under Scott's skin. But this was somehow different and terrifying and just a bit thrilling.  

Logan was doing his damnedest to stand up for you while also pretending to respect your mom. You could tell your mom was disappointed in you, but you didn't even care. You found yourself wishing that bringing Logan as your date was real, but you would take what you could get. You would just have to enjoy Logan's attention for as long as you had it. 

Logan urged you forward with a hand on the small of your back and then helped you shrug out of your coat. “You weren’t kidding,” he muttered under his breath, sounding irritated. “You’ve put up with this shit your whole life?” 

“Yeah,” you answered, knowing it was starting to look really pathetic on your part.  

Your mom had retreated into the living room. You could see her talking to your dad and she pointed towards you and Logan. Your dad scowled before schooling his expression into something more neutral.  

"Shit," you hissed, before grabbing Logan's arm. "Let's go somewhere else," you suggested.  

"I go where you go," Logan promised, letting you lead him towards the dining room where you knew you would find a buffet-style spread of food.  

At the very least, this was something your parents always got right. Logan looked exhilarated as he piled a plate with all kinds of food, ranging from strips of steak to scalloped potatoes to slices of honey glazed ham.  

“Now this is a spread,” he approved, taking a bite of stuffed mushroom.  

“Eat up,” you told him, grinning at him. “You’ve earned it.” 

After eating and then drifting from room to room in a bid to avoid your parents, you realized that Logan was intent on keeping his word. He stayed right there at your side, letting you introduce him to your parent's friends and their kids with a smile on his face and a hand on the small of your back. 

You were beginning to feel flustered having Logan in your space, so you retreated to the one place you knew you could drop the facade for just a little bit and gain a tiny bit of your sanity back.   

You ended up hanging out with the children that had been left in a room near the back of the house. You had always hated being a kid at your parent's parties, because it meant you were stuck in a room with other kids and basically ignored for the rest of the night. But now, as an adult, it was the only true refuge to be found at your parent’s house during a party. 

You ended up entertaining them with your powers. You helped some float using your forcefields and you turned invisible and let them try to find you. All the while, Logan stood at the entryway of the room, watching you with a fond little smile that set off a fluttering in the pit of your stomach.  

After half an hour of Logan's undivided attention, you decided to give yourself a break. You planned on staying with the kids, so you doubted your parents would even find you. The plan was foolproof and would give you the time to calm your racing heart.  

"Hey, would you mind getting me a drink?" You asked Logan, glancing up at him from where you were crouched on the floor and letting Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter draw what you thought might be a unicorn on your arm.  

Logan nodded his head, pushing off the doorframe he had been leaning against. He looked so fond and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

"Any preferences?" 

"Surprise me," you told him with a grin, feeling just the slightest bit bold and playful.  

“You got it.” Logan winked before leaving the room, doing nothing to help you feel any more in control of the situation.  

"Are you and Mr. Logan getting married?" Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter asked you, adding what you assumed was blood beneath the unicorn's hooves. Either that, or she had run out of green for grass and was making do with what she had on hand.  

"Mr. Logan doesn't like me like that," you told her, obediently turning your arm over when she tapped it and shook a blue marker at you.  

"Yes, he does," she answered, as if it was that simple. She started shading in a sky and you hoped it would be easy to wash off later.  

"Well, isn't that adorable," someone drawled from the doorway.  

"Fuck," you breathed, instantly recognizing the voice.  

"That's an uh-oh word," Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter reprimanded you.  

"Sorry," you told her, patting her on the shoulder before standing up. You reluctantly turned to see your ex standing there. "What're you doing here?" 

"Your parents invited me," Timothy told you, studying you. "God, you look great." 

"Shit," you groaned, realizing that Timothy had been the person they were going to try to set you up with this year.  

"That's another uh-oh word," Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter informed you with a disapproving frown.  

"Right," you agreed before walking towards Timothy. "Maybe in front of the children isn't the best place for this conversation."  

You brushed past Timothy, hating that you were in the same room as him, much less signing yourself up for a confrontation. You had been convinced for three years that Timothy was the one until he told you that he would rather adopt children than risk you passing on any of your 'mutant genes' to them. It had crushed you, realizing that Timothy didn't fully love you at all, and you had packed up all your things and joined the X-Men.  

If anything, it should have made your parents hate Timothy for driving you away. Instead, they seemed to think he was the one who got away for you and you would never do any better.  

You stopped in the entryway of an empty guest room and turned to face him.  

"Look, I don't know what my parents told you, but I'm here with a date. I'm taken, alright? I don't want to get back together." 

"Oh, come on," Timothy said, moving forward until he was in your space. "There's no date. You don’t have to lie to me to make me want you more. I want you. I always have. And now we're here and there's a really good reason why I should kiss you right now," he continued with a quick glance up.  

You tried not to wince as you also took a chance and looked up at the frame of the doorway. "Mistletoe," you observed, hating that you had the worst luck. "It wasn't on purpose." 

"I already told you that you don't have to lie to me," Timothy claimed before bringing a hand up and cupping your cheek. "I'm all yours, babe. Just say the word." 

"Leave," Logan growled, approaching the pair of you from down the hallway. He had two wine glasses in his hands which he quickly set down on a table displaying family photos.  

"Who the fuck are you?" Timothy asked, barely even budging from his spot in front of you.  

"My date," you helpfully informed him just as Logan unsheathed his claws.  

"What the--" Timothy started just as you pushed him away with a forcefield. He went stumbling back, shooting you a look of betrayal. "You swore you'd never use that against me." 

"When we dated, sure," you reminded him. "But we're not together anymore. And we never will be again," you stressed, hoping he would get the message.  

When Logan kept coming towards the two of you, not bothering to put away his claws, Timothy's eyes widened.  

"Move it, bub," Logan snarled, looking like he was moments away from sinking his claws into Timothy. 

"Okay, okay, I get it, whatever. Tell your boyfriend I'm sorry," he rambled, practically scrambling to get away from you and Logan.  

You watched him scurry away, a grin tugging at your lips. "That was great," you exclaimed, turning back towards Logan. You nearly jumped when you realized that Logan was now standing right in front of you.  

He packed the claws away and reached up to frame your face in his hands.  

"What are you doing?" You whispered, your heart suddenly pounding so hard you were sure Logan would be able to hear it going crazy.  

"There's mistletoe," Logan reminded you, his voice soft and intimate. 

"We don't have to," you assured him. "I mean, it's just a dumb tradition, right? It's--" 

"What I want," Logan finished for you, expression intent and serious. His thumb gently swept along your jaw and you didn't even have time to process the fact that Logan wanted to kiss you before his lips were pressed against yours.  

Your brain went haywire trying to figure out what to do. You brought your hands up, unsure where they should land, before you settled them on Logan's shoulders. You were worried you would fuck the moment up by not responding, so you poured all your feelings into the kiss. You had wanted Logan for so long and if this was the only kiss you got from him, then you wanted it to be something you remembered for years to come.  

Logan's touch remained gentle, but his kiss was searching and all-consuming. You nipped lightly at his lips, testing for a reaction, and shivered when Logan moaned and reeled you in closer.  

By the time you pulled away, you felt like Logan had thoroughly claimed you. You nearly couldn't catch your breath, torn between giddy anticipation and fear that this was all about to come crashing down around you.  

You met Logan's eyes, unsure of what you would find there. You froze for a moment, sure that you were wrong, but you let yourself take the time to really look at him. You couldn’t afford to mess this up. There was way too much at stake. 

Logan was watching you like you were the only thing in the whole world. He was looking at you with affection and want and something that looked a lot like love to you. It was exactly what Remy, Rogue, and Ororo had claimed Logan had been doing all along.  

"I've really got to thank Remy," you muttered, realizing that he had been right that Logan had been making a move by agreeing to be your fake date. Except, Logan did have real feelings for you, but you were the only one who hadn't been able to see it.  

"What?" Logan growled, his grip briefly tightening on you. "You're really thinking about Remy right now? After what just happened, he’s what’s on your mind?"  

You shook your head, smiling at Logan. Logan had absolutely no reason to be jealous, because even if he might not be aware of it, there was no one who could ever compete with him. No one else had ever made you feel the way Logan made you feel. You felt like there was a warmth taking root in your chest and it was lighting you up inside. It was all Logan. His touch, his kiss, and his affection had you feeling invincible.  

As long as you had him, you truly could do anything. Including deal with your parents and their intolerance and shitty choice of suitors for you.  

Logan had volunteered to be your date and had spent a whole evening putting up with your parents and their snooty, prejudiced friends all for you. Logan had run off your ex and then kissed you like he wanted nothing more than to keep doing that for the rest of his life. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him and you felt like you were on top of the world.  

You didn't care that this had started out as fake, because now it was real and there was really only one thing you wanted to do now that you knew you had Logan.  

"You've got nothing to worry about. You're all I want," you assured him before reeling him back in for another kiss underneath the mistletoe.  

It wasn’t exactly the Christmas you had expected to have, but it was turning out to be the only one worth celebrating. 

Logan was truly the best gift you had ever received. 

All Logan Taglist: @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @slightlymediocree @snowyminty @i-wear-wet-socks313 @shizzybarnaclee

Series Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @the-gentle-spirit @wolflover-20

If you would like to be added to the all logan or the series taglist, just let me know!

[lagt-duck]

"look." The Border wizard sighed. "I was tasked to look after the main city. The only building suitable to be my tower was the old private school library! People have been thinking it's an ORPHANAGE!"

She hears the distant clink clank of your older apprentice as he tries to explain the difference between camelia and Campanula in preparation of the newer spells.

"What was I gonna do? NOT take them in? It's not my fault they are all interested in magic! It's only practical! We need more people if we want the order to prosper!"

She is not that old by wizard standards really! And it's not her fault that she had to make herself look good to the city people! They thought she was a witch! As if! She was more of a bookworm.

"so if you will stop pointing out my students every time Jershie wins another potion competition or Callea beats your pupil in spellcasting I would much appreciated Thomer."

The Border wizard stomps towards the door ignoring the old coot sputtering, her senses can feel another foolish young couple about to drop a new student at her door.

Make that 18.

"you know you are only supposed to have 1 apprentice maybe 2 not 15." said the wizard council member "well until people stop leaving surprisingly powerful orphans at my doorstep I'll be taking care of my 17 apprentices." The council member snapped their wand "WHERE DID YOU GET 3 MORE!"

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Hate your guts (pt 1)

~ this fic is my Christmas gift💙 i'm dividing this into two parts bcs tumblr is shit

pairing: rockstar!hyunjin x rockstar afab!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 26.6k

synopsis: hwang hyunjin, your sworn enemy. the person who finds and pushes all your buttons, annoys you and makes you angry. the person you're trying to avoid so badly, only to end up practically sharing a bed with him on tour. let the fun begin!

warnings: lots of swearing, smoking and alcohol, mentions of blood and throwing up, mild violence, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, spanking, creampies, mix of degradation and praise

a/n: thank you @frehyun for helping me come up with a name for hyunjin's band💕 also a thank you to @jehhskz @moonchild9350 and @hyunebunx for giving me suggestions, listening to me yap and being supportive while i was writing this🥹🩷🩷🩷 title is inspired by inji, go listen to her music🫶🏻

a little ramble: feel free to skip this! but i just wanted to say that this was supposed to be done sooner cause i had other fics planned out to write but work got in the way. so i wrote this fic whenever and wherever i could; hiding in the bathroom at work, during my break, at the bus station, at 3am when i couldn't sleep etc... it's been a ride and i'm proud of how it turned out, hopefully y'all enjoy it too🥹🫶🏻

“...And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there? Or have somebody’s goodnight kisses got that covered? When I’m not being honest, I pretend that you were just some lover…”

It was a perfect but short moment.

The fresh breeze coming into the car where the window was opened just a little was enough to give you some air but still managed to hide most of your face from the outside world. 

The music in your ears was loud, so loud that you were drowning in it, the warm and comforting voice, the melancholic guitar riff in the background, and the gentle sluggish drums putting it all together into a song that made your eyes water.

You tuned everything else out as this was the only moment of peace you were going to get today.

You needed every shred of sanity you could gather, and you were determined to hold onto it as much as you could.

Because today, you had an interview with him.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Oh, the name you know so well.

Even thinking about the way it sounds makes you feel angry.

It seemed as if his life mission was to find every single button of yours and push them repeatedly until you exploded like a ticking bomb.

Your mind wandered as you thought about him and how much his existence angered you, your stomach turning into knots.

Or maybe it was just pre-interview nerves.

No matter how many times you talked in front of the camera, it always made you feel anxious and jittery.

Being on stage was fun, there was no anxiety there as whenever you would step on it and see all the people cheering for you and singing along to the music you and your friends wrote, your heart felt full, your soul elated. 

It was an exhilarating feeling you couldn’t even begin to explain to someone who’d never experienced it.

Every concern in your head, every ache in your soul, every tear behind your eyelids threatening to spill got erased when you gave yourself to the stage.

If you could, you would definitely try to avoid the interviews and just perform.

But your record company had other plans.

Being the only up and rising all girls rock band in the company meant that you needed promotion, and what better way to promote than to collab with the only boy rock band in the same company?

Hwang Hyunjin’s band.

Yes, you couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

“Y/n!” you were shaken out of your thoughts, as your manager pulled at your headphones.

“What?” you almost snapped at her, startled by her antics.

“You were staring off into space and muttering angrily about Hyunjin. Something like ‘poke his eyes out’ and ‘conceited dick’.” Ana giggled, covering her lips with her hand as you rolled your eyes, realizing that you’ve already arrived at the building for the interview.

“I’m sure you find all this amusing. But I am not amused at all. Last time I had an interview with that... bastard, everyone thought we were dating and started shipping us.” you recoil at the thought. “I would never date someone like him.”

“Oh y/n, lighten up! You know there will always be rumors of all kinds. The dating rumors are the least harmful ones, trust me. Just act like you’re besties with Hyunjin, for an hour tops.”

You take a deep breath in, then sigh.

“I am a professional. I will do this right.” you nod with a determined tone as Ana bumped her fist with yours.

“That’s the spirit!” your manager smacked your thigh happily as you yelped, making her laugh before she exited the car.

Since you were in the underground parking lot, there was no press around so you walked out of the car freely, going directly to the elevator that would take you to the reception.

Ana pressed the button when you walked in and just as the doors started closing, someone’s combat boot was pushed between the silver doors, stopping them and making them open again.

Your eyes traveled up from the boots, to the tight leather pants and the skimpy tank top revealing a tattoo sleeve, right to the face you hoped you won’t be seeing for at least another ten minutes.

Hyunjin had an obnoxious smirk dancing on his lips as he looked down at you, puffing his chest out like some peacock showing off his feathers and you already wanted to smack the shit out of him.

His manager, Anthony waved at the two of you, ushering him into the elevator.

“Good morning y/n, Ana.” Anthony greeted as Hyunjin kept smirking at you.

“It was good until now.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Even the cologne Hyunjin was wearing made you want to puke your guts out so you stepped away from him.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned on the wall casually, never taking his eyes off of you.

“Aw, you throwing a tantrum already baby?” he smirked at you and you started fuming.

Both of your managers rolled their eyes, Ana muttering ‘here we go again’ as she shook her head.

“I see you have a new piercing on your face. You needed another hole to let the air out of that empty head?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant and Hyunjin scoffed.

“I’m gonna ignore that comment and focus on the fact that you’re counting my piercings. Observing me, huh?” he looked at you smugly.

“Yeah, cause I have nothing better to do than-”

Ding!

“Alright, break it off kids, were here!” Anthony said, quickly pulling Hyunjin out of the elevator.

“See? I can’t stand him.” you groaned as Ana chuckled.

“You stood up to him pretty well.” Ana winked. “Let's go get some coffee, get you properly awake before the interview.” she gripped your shoulders, shaking you a little as you groaned in protest.

Thankfully, Hyunjin had disappeared somewhere and you were glad he wasn’t around to annoy you, as you made small talk with a few of the staff you knew there since you’ve already been interviewed for the same channel before. 

“Ana, I’m gonna go get some air before we start.” you felt the nerves creeping up inside you.

“Okay, but you have to be back in five minutes.” she reminded you and you gave her a thumbs up, before practically sprinting down the hall to get to the little terrace hidden on the side.

Staff used it for smoke breaks, and you decided to use it to calm your anxiety down.

You flung the door open and stepped out onto the balcony, quickly taking a deep breath in while you looked down at the city before you.

“Needed to see me once more before the interview?” a voice rang out to the left of you.

Hyunjin’s voice.

Of course the bastard is here, you thought, your face becoming hot in annoyance.

“I had no idea you were here, asshole.” you turned to look at him.

He was leaning on the railing, flexing his muscles, a long vein protruding under the layer of the swirling colorful flowers inked into his skin, leading all the way to his long fingers with chipped nail polish and a cigarette pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He looked at you intently through his bangs that were haphazardly falling into his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before his tongue poked out to play with the piercing adorning it.

“I thought you had more originality when it comes to nicknames, darling.” he said mockingly before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Don’t call me that.” you turned around to leave but Hyunjin’s long arm quickly blocked your way, his palm splayed on the wall.

You looked up at him and stepped back, just as he puffed the smoke out your way.

“You leaving?” he looked smug again, intrusive thoughts of pushing him off the balcony appeared in your mind.

“Yes, this space is too small and your cologne is nauseating.” your face scrunches up.

“Aw, I’ll make sure to find another one you’d like.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Don’t bother.” you ducked under his arm and opened the door, walking away as fast as you could.

At least he helped in a way, you weren’t anxious anymore, just annoyed and waiting for this day to be over. 

“Where is Hyunjin, we’re starting in a minute.” Anthony’s brows furrowed while you were ushered towards the room. 

“Last I saw him, he was smoking on the balcony.” you shrugged as they sat you down. 

The chair where Hyunjin would be sitting was too close for comfort and you wanted so badly to push it away, but you figured it was there because of the camera frame. 

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” one of the staff yelled and you rolled your eyes. 

Of course he was late, the self-centered bastard. You were sure he was enjoying this, everyone waiting on his highness to arrive, everyone panicking around him as he wears that disgusting smug smirk on his face.

“In 10…9…” the staff started counting down just as the door swung open and a breathless Hyunjin ran into the room, almost tripping over your crossed legs before he sat down on the chair next to you. 

After he ran in, one of the girls working there ran in too, quickly taking her place with rosy cheeks and her lipgloss smeared. 

You rolled your eyes and looked at him, the glitter from the girl’s lipgloss was visibly shining on his lips and chin. 

“You have a little something.” you said and he smirked, wiping his chin off before leaning towards you.

“My lips were dry.” he whispered with a wink.

You were more than ready to get this over with, seething with anger at his unprofessional behavior that you didn’t even notice the camera began rolling. 

“... today’s special guests are y/n of Venus Flytrap and Hyunjin of Lycoris Radiata! I hope y’all are as excited as I am, since it’s been so long. Y/n, let’s start with you. You have a new album coming out soon, can we get a little sneak peek of that?” the interviewer, Sarah, asked as you adjusted on your chair. 

“This is our third album now, and this time Steph and Janey participated in the writing more than before, so the songs are really personal to all three of us.”

“Are we finally gonna hear about their love story?” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. 

“We may.” you smirked at her, not wanting to reveal too much.

“How about yours?” she added on, in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin leaning towards you as he stared at you, manspreading like always, his knee knocking into yours. 

“Huh?” 

“Your love story. Is there a special guy or girl in your life?” the interviewer asked, making you feel annoyed instantly. 

You hated being asked questions like that, sometimes it felt like the music you were writing didn’t even matter, all people wanted to know was who you’re fucking. 

“Not at the moment, no.” you forced a smile so you don’t seem rude.

“I thought I was special.” Hyunjin chimed in next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours, that shit eating grin you hate spreading on his face.

Before you could answer, Sarah butted in. 

“Oh, is there something happening between you that we should know about?”

You could just hear the excitement in her voice, the hunger for drama dripping from her lips. 

“Nothing is happening, we just like to joke around like that.” you quickly answered, hoping to deflect her to another question, or that she’d finally talk to Hyunjin and ask him about his new song, so you could take a few moments to breathe. 

“So, you two are close?”

Oh no. 

Here it goes again. 

Last time this happened, your name got dragged on every social media platform.

People who were shipping the two of you got on your nerves, but that wasn’t the biggest problem.

No, it was the people who had sent you hate and death threats, telling you if they saw you next to Hyunjin again you’d be dead. 

It took a toll on your mental health and scared you since you know people can easily find an address or stalk you somewhere and you wanted to avoid any rumors that would endanger your well-being. 

“We're just coworkers.” to your surprise Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, saying exactly what you wanted to say so people would leave you alone. 

Why was there a weird feeling in your chest then?

“Well, sometimes there’s passion at the workplace.” Sarah wasn’t giving it up and you were close to losing your temper and telling her to shove it already, ask some less invasive questions. 

“No passion here, our relationship is strictly professional.” you said, but your skin burned where Hyunjin’s thigh pressed against yours.

In your mind you were cursing both him and Sarah, and even your manager for bringing you here.

Thankfully, she left it at that, continuing with questions about your upcoming tour and Hyunjin’s new song. 

As soon as the interview finished and you were done shaking hands, Ana came to you, her hand on your shoulder as she squeezed. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin slip out of the room.

“Good job.” she smiled as Anthony joined the two of you. 

“I hope you’re hungry, y/n. This time it’s my treat, and there’s this restaurant…”

You tuned Anthony out, completely forgetting that after an interview like this, the tradition is to have dinner with Hyunjin and his manager. 

“Can we skip dinner this time? I just wanna go home and lay down.”

“Nonsense, I hear your stomach growling from here. Come on, it’s free food you can’t say no.” Anthony made a goofy face, hoping to win you over.

“Fine, you had me at free food.” you sighed as Ana nodded with a smile.

“Good! Now where is our other rockstar?” he quickly looked around. “I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m a babysitter, not a manager.”

“I’ll go find him.” you offered, wanting to leave the building as soon as possible.

“Sure.” Ana nodded and you made your way down the hall.

Your footsteps echoed in the empty space, until you came closer to a corner where the sounds of hushed voices and giggles filled up your ears and made you roll your eyes. 

“You know I can’t give you my number, baby. But if there is an empty room around here somewhere…” Hyunjin was talking to the girl from earlier, leaning over her body as she stared up at him like he was a god, her back against the wall.

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms on your chest. 

Both of them looked up at you, Hyunjin giving you a smirk as he straightened up and the girl glared at you but you didn’t give a shit. 

“We need to leave right now. Our managers are waiting for us.” you said simply as the girl whined. 

“Shh, maybe some other time.” he shushed her, leaning towards her and your stomach flipped in disgust. 

He didn’t kiss her, just taunted her before he leaned back and made his way towards you. 

“Cockblocker.” he stuck his tongue out, the piercing adorning it catching the light for a moment. 

“Do you even know her name?” you asked, keeping a fast pace and a good distance away from him.

“No. Does it matter?” he shrugged, his long legs quickly catching up to you in big strides.

“You’re despicable.” your face scrunched up in disgust as you neared the elevator where your managers were waiting and chatting. 

“Throwing some big words around. You sure you know the meaning?” he smirked.

“That’s it.” you said angrily.

“What? You just basically told me I deserve to be hated just cause I wanted to have some fun.” 

You looked at him, full on ready to slap him across his face but Ana stepped between the two of you. 

“Fighting again? Can the two of you behave for just one evening?” Anthony frowned with a sigh as he called the elevator. 

“I can behave.” Hyunjin clicked his tongue cheekily before playing with his lip ring again. 

“Y/n?” Ana looked at you. 

“As long as he doesn’t talk to me, I’ll be fine.” you turned away from Hyunjin, stepping into the elevator. 

This is going to be one awkward dinner. 

-

Choosing to disconnect in the van you put your earphones in, ignoring Hyunjin’s presence right next to you. 

It’s like your managers wanted to have you two as close as possible, like they thought it’d make you hate each other less but at this moment there was nothing more you wanted than to get away from him. 

Or maybe your managers wanted to be closer to each other, you smirked to yourself as Ana twirled her hair around her finger, giggling at something Anthony said. 

You leaned back as the music flooded your ears, your figure slightly turned towards the window as you watched the street lights pass you by, totally unaware of a pair of eyes that were glued to you.

Hyunjin observed you in detail, how shiny your hair was as it cascaded down your back and shoulders, how your brows were slightly creased and your lips pouty as you listened to your music, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers played with the hem of your shirt as you pulled on it, how pretty the rings adorning your fingers were, how the necklace you always wore laid gently on your collarbone.

No little detail was skipped as he drinked it all in, thinking you wouldn’t notice. 

But after some time as it got even darker outside, you caught Hyunjin’s reflection in the window as he stared at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before. 

Your stomach suddenly swirled as the two of you made eye contact on the glass, Hyunjin’s plump lips falling open before he sat up and looked away, acting like nothing happened. 

The rest of the ride was uneventful and you were tired of this day, having to look at Hyunjin was more exhausting to you than being on stage.

You couldn’t wait to get into your bed and disappear. 

As you walked into the restaurant, you were led to a table and you could see a few people whispering and pointing at you but usually they didn’t bother you much. 

However, this time was different. 

As you scanned the menu, a girl timidly approached your table and you looked up at her as she stood next to Hyunjin. 

“I’m - I’m sorry to bother you but I’m a really big fan and I was wondering if you’d take a picture with me?” she asked Hyunjin who immediately smirked at her.

“No pictures allowed. But you can get his signature.” Anthony chimed in. 

“And who the fuck are you?” the girl changed her demeanor right away, making Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart, that’s my boss.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the girl. “Come on I’ll give you a sign and you can write me your number, maybe I’ll call you, hm?” Hyunjin winked at her and you just about lost your appetite completely.

“Oh, sure, I’d love that!” she let out a nasally laugh as he signed a napkin with a pen she somehow produced, giving it back to her as she leaned over to write her number down, making sure her tits were right in his face before she skipped back to her friends. 

“Can there be at least one minute when you’re not trying to fuck something that walks?” you looked at him annoyingly and he laughed.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me.” he smirked. 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” you were ready to smack him with the menu in your hand but Ana caught your wrist. 

“I bet you love that about me.” he kept smirking. 

“Love is nothing near what I feel about you.” you said, your teeth gritted.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, you know.” Hyunjin smirked, leaning into your personal space. 

“Anyways, guys. What are you ordering? Their steak is really good.” Anthony gave an awkward smile as he looked around the table. 

“I want the tomato pasta.” Hyunjin leaned back, making you cackle.

“Isn’t that the kids menu? Makes sense for you somehow.” 

“I’m saving room for dessert.” he winked at you, his tongue running over his lip tentatively, the piercing on it catching the light again. 

“Ew.” you jolted in disgust as he laughed loudly, obviously finding enjoyment in ticking you off. 

The dinner part of the outing was uneventful as everyone ate and made small talk but you didn’t miss how Hyunjin crumpled up the napkin with the fan’s number and threw it aside on the table, not caring about it. 

What an asshole. 

“Let’s make a little toast to this evening and the upcoming albums and tour.” Ana proposed as she lifted her glass up. 

“To us.” Hyunjin smirked as he looked at you. 

“To rock’n’roll!” you added as the four of you clinked your glasses together before taking a big swig of your drinks.

Hyunjin didn’t look at you on the drive home. 

-

Rehearsal was supposed to start at 9am sharp, but you were there bright and early, tuning your guitar. 

Being an early bird, you loved the few moments of peace you could have to yourself, just you and your music. 

Your hand glided easily on the guitar’s neck, taking shapes familiar to your hands, it was muscle memory by now, your fingers picking on the strings and creating the melody you played countless times before. 

You let your voice ring out in the space freely as you sang a song dear to your heart, one you wrote when you were younger. 

You’d always start warming up by singing it to yourself, never having the need to actually put it out into the world. 

You got into it, your eyes closed as you sang with a small smile on your face, the entire world around you disappearing shortly. 

In the distance, you heard footsteps and voices belonging to your bandmates and just as you opened your eyes, you looked through the glass on the door, a shadow slithered across the wall outside, disappearing around the corner.  

You squinted your eyes and stood up, putting your guitar aside and coming closer to the door. 

Just as you were about to reach towards the doorknob, the voices got louder. 

“Are we seriously doing this right now?” Janey asked, the tone of her voice angry. 

“I’m telling you, it was nothing! I don’t know who she is and why she’s texting me!” Steph defended herself as Janey scoffed.

“I’m sick of your excuses. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make it up to me and be truthful, but after that I’m done.” you stepped back as Janey came into view, opening the door angrily.

“Oh, y/n.” she widened her eyes slightly. “Good morning.” she added, scurrying past you to take her place behind the drum kit. 

Steph walked in with a scowl on her face, muttering a ‘morning’ before going straight to her bass guitar. 

It wasn’t the first time they fought or even broke up.

There were many times you had to be the mediator between them, trying to get them to communicate and even though it was frustrating, you didn’t want them to give up on their relationship easily and you couldn’t really take sides since they were both your friends. 

“Shall we?” you asked and they nodded. 

It took some warming up as always but soon you got into the groove, rehearsing for a small performance that was happening tonight.

You were excited because during the performance you planned to reveal your new song and see how people like it in person. 

The only thorn in your eye was the fact that Hyunjin’s band will be there too, performing right after yours. 

You were dreading to see him again, since that interview last week you had managed to avoid him skilfully, but you couldn’t hide forever. 

And even though your rehearsal went somewhat smoothly, there was tension in the air and you didn’t like that feeling.

It felt like a storm was coming and you weren’t sure if you’re ready to take it on. 

-

Evening came around quickly, everyone was already gathered backstage and you were dressed and ready, having rehearsed once more on the stage, tuning your guitars and getting ready for the most fun part. 

You peered from the back, seeing all the people gathering made your heart swell, a smile spreading on your face automatically. 

“Quite a turn out, huh?” 

Your eye literally twitched when you heard Hyunjin’s voice behind you, too close for comfort as his figure loomed over you and you felt the warmth of his body on your back.

You turned your head slightly as he peered down at you with that annoying smirk you absolutely hate. 

“Of course.” you said, squeezing your body between him and the curtain, ignoring him calling after you as you walked away as fast as you could.

You’re not gonna let him ruin tonight for you. 

It was time to go on stage anyways.

You and your girls did a little cheer as tradition before the performance, Ana coming up to hug you and wish you good luck. 

“Break a leg.” Hyunjin appeared out of nowhere and you only rolled your eyes before whipping around and almost smacking him with your hair as you made your way towards the stage. 

As soon as you walked out, loud screams filled up your ears and everything negative was forgotten and locked away in a drawer in the back of your mind. 

“Are you ready to rock tonight?!” you screamed out into the mic as the three of you took your positions. 

Hyunjin watched you from the side with an unreadable look on his face, but you weren’t even aware of it and you didn’t care. 

All you cared about was this moment. 

The moment where you get to share your love for music with thousands of people. 

It was exhilarating, watching the mass of bodies sway like one, hearing all the people singing the lyrics you wrote in unison. 

Nothing could compare to this and every time you stood under that light, you knew you were born for this. 

Giddy from everything, you skipped backstage once you finished playing the last song; which happened to be the new one and people more than loved it judging by their excited screams. 

“That was amazing!” Ana met you halfway, giving high fives to all three of you.

You were still trying to catch your breath as you giggled, when Hyunjin appeared next to you again. 

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” he smirked at you, shamelessly giving you the elevator eyes. 

“Good luck guys!” Janey yelled at all four members with a smile and a thumbs up but Hyunjin shook his head. 

“I want her to say it or I’m not going out on stage.” he crossed his arms on his chest, pouting and tapping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum. 

“Come on, Hyun, we need to get out there!” Aiden, the band’s bassist called out. 

“Not moving until y/n wishes me good luck.” he quickly shook his head, his fluffy hair shaking with it and you thought how he resembled a dog; in more ways than one. 

“Fine you spoiled brat. Good luck.” you said sarcastically and he scoffed. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked, leaning into your personal space again. 

“Get on the stage, Hyunjin.” you sighed and he chuckled in delight. 

“Watch me closely.” he winked before running off. 

“I can just cut the tension in the air with a knife.” Steph smirked at you, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Oh, fuck off!” you said, smacking the back of her head as she cackled. 

You did end up watching Hyunjin’s band perform after refreshing yourself, but pretty soon you’ve come to regret that decision. 

He was wild while performing, stripping out of his jacket as he screamed into the mic, sweating under the bright lights pointed directly at him making him look like an insane glazed donut as he strutted around the stage acting all smug even though he tripped over his dumb long legs multiple times. 

He’d lean over towards his little groupies, holding their hand or caressing their faces, blowing them kisses and whatnot, all of that behavior making your gut churn in disgust. 

The last straw was when he laid down on his back and started humping the air while moaning into the mic. 

Even though the crowd screamed louder than before and the horny fans almost started hyperventilating, you felt second hand embarrassment at witnessing this. 

Hyunjin continued moaning before he threw his head back, his eyes locking with yours. 

A shiver ran down your spine as he smirked at you, all sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead, his piercings shining in the light, the veins on his neck visible and his cheeks red. 

A warmness spread in your navel as he winked, licking at his lip slowly, taunting you before he moaned extra loudly, the pornographic sound echoing in your ears. 

You frowned suddenly at your heart beating fast and your legs pressing together. 

What the fuck is wrong with me?, you thought, quickly shaking your head as he finally looked away from you and stood up. 

Of course, he got showered by multiple bras on stage, you think you even caught a glimpse of someone throwing their panties and you couldn’t watch anymore. 

It was truly disgusting. 

You quickly shoved past some staff members watching and gasping at whatever Hyunjin was doing now. 

Pushing past everyone, you made your way outside to get some fresh air in the hidden area behind backstage, where staff and musicians usually smoked or chilled after a performance. 

You greeted some of the staff before finding a spot where you could be alone. 

You were about to relax when you heard kissing sounds and as you turned to look around the corner you saw Steph kissing some random girl. 

You couldn’t contain the gasp that flew out of your mouth, making them jolt away from each other. 

Steph’s eyes widened when she saw you and you quickly spun around, noticing Janey had just walked outside too and started looking around. 

“Y/n, wait!” Steph yelled behind you. “It’s not what you think! Please, don’t tell Janey!” she looked at you desperately but you hated cheaters more than anything, seeing her betrayal with your own eyes broke any sort of connection you had with her. 

“Isn’t it? Your tongue was down some girl’s throat. Now, what do you call that?” you scoffed.

“What?” Janey appeared next to you, just as the girl who Steph was kissing before stood behind her. 

“It’s not like that, I-”

You could see Janey’s eyes filling up with tears. 

“That’s it, I’m done. With you and with the band. With everything.” you gasped when she said that, your eyes wide. 

“Janey, don’t be like that, it didn’t mean anything to me-” Steph started.

“Liar, you told me you’d leave her for me.” the girl behind Steph chimed in. 

“Oh, so this has been going on for some time?” Janey looked between Steph and the girl. 

“Let’s talk about this inside.” you tried to lead them in as people were whispering and looking at the four of you. 

“I have nothing else to say. I’m sorry, y/n. I can’t be a part of this band anymore when all it’s gonna do is remind me of this cheating whore.” Janey spat before turning around and leaving. 

“Okay, I deserve that but like I’m sorry that-”

“Save it, Steph. I can’t believe you did this. You put your desires over the well-being of our band. You do understand that your actions not only affect Janey, but also me, Ana and the rest of the record company?” you asked her, your blood boiling with anger. 

“I- I’m sorry, let me make it right. I’ll talk to Janey and she’ll forgive me once she understands-” 

“You think I want you to be part of the band after this? That’s rich.” you turned around too, in hopes of finding Janey. 

“Y/n, you can’t throw me out of the band!” Steph yelled behind you. 

“I just did.” you said coldly before opening the door and rushing into the backstage room. 

“Is Janey here?” you asked Ana and before she could answer, someone bumped into you rather strongly, making you stumble backwards a little.

You turned around angrily, noticing a very sweaty and breathless Hyunjin staring at you with a smile, his tongue lolling out of his lips as he played with his piercing. 

“So, did you like my performance?” he winked at you. “Did it get you excited?” the famous shit eating grin spread on his face as he leaned in closer to you, a few droplets of sweat dripping from his hair.

“I don’t have time for your games, Hyunjin. Please leave me alone.” you said annoyingly, noticing he had a bra hooked around his hand.

“What’s going on?” Ana asked, looking at you confusedly.

You were shaken up, the anger you felt manifesting into tears and you cursed yourself for being so emotional and quick to cry. 

“Woah, you’re crying!” Hyunjin stepped even closer to you but you’ve had enough of him. 

“Get away from me, asshole!” you channeled all your anger his way as you pressed your hands on his chest, pushing him away. 

Hyunjin stumbled with a gasp, a shocked look on his face. 

“What the hell is happening here?” Anthony quickly came to Hyunjin’s side as his bandmates watched everything unfold. 

“Ana, can we talk in private?” you glared once more at Hyunjin and she quickly nodded, hooking her arm with yours and taking you away from the scene. 

Hyunjin watched your figure disappear out of view with a deep frown on his face. 

-

It’s been a dreadful week.

You’ve tried talking to Janey multiple times, begging her to come back, promising to her that you wouldn’t let Steph come anywhere near her. 

Sadly, Janey was insistent on not wanting to continue with the band since lots of the songs were written by her and her now ex girlfriend who betrayed her in such an ugly way. 

You talked to Ana almost every day on the phone but you weren’t up for any visits, choosing instead to wallow in your sadness. 

Your band fell apart, your friends were no longer together, your album couldn’t be published and people were speculating, spreading rumors, you were getting numerous curious comments asking what happened to Venus Flytrap. 

You had no idea what to do at that moment. 

You just needed some time to yourself to figure out what your next step should be. 

You were lounging in your bed when your phone buzzed for the hundredth time.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it and saw that you had a text message from an unknown number. 

???: hey there pretty girl! don’t be so sad! there are worse things than your band falling apart. 

you: what, like death? and who is this? 

???: your favorite person in the whole world<3 

you: hyunjin?? 

???: aw i knew i was your favorite!

You started seething immediately as you sat up, your heart beating fast instantly as you worked yourself up into annoyance.

You quickly put his contact under ‘asshole’. 

you: no, i knew that a conceited answer like that can only come from an asshole like you.

you: now, what do you want?

asshole: did you save my contact as asshole? or dickhead? which one is it?

you: wouldn’t you like to know. seriously what the hell do you want. i’ll block you if you don’t get on with it

asshole: just wanted to see if you maybe want to talk to someone

you: if i did, i wouldn’t choose you. have a nice day away from me hyunjin

Hyunjin didn’t answer your last text, instead he left you on read and you tossed your phone across your bed, now feeling even more infuriated than before. 

You squinted your eyes, grabbing your phone again and texting Ana.

you: did you give my number to hyunjin??

Ana: i’m sorry! he wouldn’t stop bugging me about it! pls don’t be mad

Just great. 

Why is he insisting on annoying you even when you feel down in the dumps, you thought, he always has to come in and make you feel even more mad. 

You were hoping that with your last text he’d finally leave you alone.

You also hoped you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon.

But boy, you couldn’t be more wrong.

-

“What?!” you yelled so loudly that it echoed off of the office walls.

“Y/n, please we don’t know any other solution. Lycoris Radiata is going to tour in 4 days and you’re the only person who knows their songs by heart. You can also kick ass with drums. And well, you’re kinda free now.” Anthony grimaced. 

“You can’t do this to me. I can’t spend so much time with Hwang Hyunjin!” you whined like a child, kicking your legs under the table as Ana gave you an apologetic look.

“Gossiping about me?” Hyunjin strolled in, with that annoying smirk, his hair in a little ponytail, showing more of his ear piercings and his sharp jawline. 

He took off his leather jacket, throwing it haphazardly on the chair before he plopped down into it. 

He spun around in the chair to face you as you looked at him with a scowl on your face.

Brendon, his guitarist and Aiden joined the meeting right after that.

“So, ready to be my new drummer?” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Not a chance in hell.” 

“Y/n, please, we have no other choice! Phil had to leave so suddenly due to his sickness. We couldn’t be prepared for something like that. We can’t afford to postpone the tour now.” Brendon pleaded as Aiden nodded next to him. 

You leaned back into the chair, pursing your lips as you gave it a thought.

Of course they’d choose you. 

You knew their songs by heart since you shared so many tours together but you had your own bus and mostly ran into Hyunjin either backstage or at an afterparty but if you would become a part of his band you’d spend most of your time with him. 

But this could be good for you to give yourself time to decide what you wanna do next while touring with Lycoris Radiata. 

And since you were a multi instrumentalist, playing the drums wouldn’t be a problem for you.

You smirked suddenly before tilting your head at Hyunjin. 

“Fine. I will tour with you under one condition.” you said. 

“Anything!” Anthony piped in but you kept staring at Hyunjin. 

“I want you to beg.” your smirk deepened and Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly, his fingers twitching against his thighs. 

“What?” he blinked repeatedly and you chuckled under your breath. 

“Beg me to join your band or I’m not doing it.” 

Hyunjin’s lips opened and closed a few times before he frowned.

“I don’t beg. I demand.” he smirked, taunting you.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to have demands. However, I am. So if I want you to beg, Hyunjin, you’re gonna beg.” you sat up straight as he looked at you in pure shock. 

“My, my darling. I didn’t know you were this commanding. I kinda dig that.” he wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Any day now.” you were ready to stand up and leave. 

The room was eerily silent and Brendon opened his lips to speak up but Anthony grabbed his wrist and quickly shook his head. 

You could see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he stared at you, and slowly but surely his cheeks became red as he closed his eyes in frustration.

“Pretty please, join my band and come on tour with us?” he said, rather quickly and you tsked. 

“Not convincing enough.” you enjoyed having the upper hand, the roles reversed as you pushed Hyunjin’s buttons. 

“What do you want me to do?! Kneel at your feet?” he whined.

“Maybe.” you shrugged. 

“Unbelievable! I’m the one doing you a favor anyways.” Hyunjin said, clearly annoyed and you were reveling in it. 

You wanted him to get the taste of his own medicine.

“Is that so?” you raised your eyebrow as he breathed hard. 

“Yes, your band is as good as dead right now, just like your career.” he said with a smug smirk, making everyone gasp. 

“Hyunjin!” Aiden scolded him and you stood up, feeling your eyes water as you lifted your hand, your palm colliding with Hyunjin’s cheek. 

The force of your slap turned his head right and he grabbed at his cheek immediately, his eyes wide, his face becoming red quickly.

“Fuck you!” you said angrily before turning around and leaving the room as tears started sliding down your cheeks. 

“Now look at what you did!” Anthony was mad and Hyunjin shrugged with a frown, realizing quickly that maybe he did cross a line.

“How could you say something like that to y/n?” Brendon asked, and Hyunjin looked at them, feeling dejected suddenly as he rubbed at his cheek. 

There was strength in your hands, that he was sure of. 

“I fucked up, okay! I didn’t mean to say that.” he shook his head. “I will make this right.” Hyunjin added, standing up. 

“Dude, I think you’re the last person y/n wants to see right now.” Aiden said. 

“But I have to apologize to her.” Hyunjin chewed on his lip, playing with his piercing as a nervous habit.

“I’ll go with you then.” Aiden nodded, standing up as well. 

“Fine.” Hyunjin sighed. 

You sat in the swinging chair on one of the many balconies of the building, letting your tears slip down your cheeks as the wind picked up, making you shiver. 

Hyunjin and Aiden found you pretty quickly and before Aiden could follow him to the balcony, Hyunjin smacked his hand on Aiden’s chest. 

“Please, just wait here.” 

“Fine, but if you provoke her again, I’m coming in.” Aiden sighed, shaking his head. 

The door of the balcony opened and in the corner of your eye you saw Hyunjin’s combat boots and his leather pants. 

“Go away.” you said quietly, sniffling and turning away from him.

Hyunjin stood frozen for a moment, holding his jacket in his hand and you took that time to quickly wipe away your tears. 

You didn’t want to look weak in front of your enemy. 

Footsteps approached and suddenly you felt a weight on your shoulders and back. 

You looked down, realizing that Hyunjin had put his jacket around you and it smelled like cigarettes mixed with cologne he always wears and something distinctly him. 

You took a deep breath and for some reason, calmness settled all over your body. 

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. It was way out of line.”

You didn’t say anything, still refusing to look at him. 

“And I’m sorry about your band. I know that must be hard to go through. I feel bad that my drummer had to leave, I don’t know how I’d feel if-”

“Are you done?” you turned to look at him and his lips pressed together. 

“I don’t care how you feel, Hyunjin. Just like you didn’t care about hurting me moments ago.” you stood up, ready to throw his jacket away. 

“Well, I apologized!” he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes. “Though, I’m glad I have that effect on you, I didn’t know you cared so much about what I think or say.” he smirked suddenly. 

You were tempted to slap his other cheek at that moment, and Aiden must’ve sensed it so he walked out to the balcony. 

“Are we okay?” he asked, gulping. 

“Not until he apologizes properly.” you crossed your arms with a smirk, and he knew exactly what you meant.

“Ugh! This is the first and last time I get on my knees for you.” Hyunjin said annoyingly as he kneeled down and you chuckled in delight. 

“I’m sorry for being an asshole and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d be honored for you to join my band.” he batted his eyelashes at you. 

“Mm…” you pursed your lips, acting like you were contemplating it as he rolled his eyes again. 

“Fine. I accept.” you shrugged and Hyunjin stood up quickly with a smile.

“Welcome to the band, sweetheart!” he smirked, opening his arms for a hug and you quickly dodged under his arm and slithered away. 

“You’re welcome.” you smirked back, grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

He caught it just as you walked back into the hallway, grinning to himself as you walked away. 

“She wants me so bad.” Hyunjin said as Aiden’s eyebrows lifted comically. 

“I think she wants to kill you.” he said and Hyunjin chuckled, smacking Aiden’s shoulder and grabbing him. 

“I know what chicks like, okay?” 

“You also know that y/n isn’t one of your little groupies?” Aiden sighed.

“I know, don’t worry. She’s special.” Hyunjin smiled, hugging his jacket to his chest, getting a whiff of your perfume that stayed on it.

Aiden shook his head with a chuckle. 

This is gonna be one hell of a tour. 

-

The party was in full swing. 

That morning you had packed for the tour, your stomach swirling with nerves so much that you thought you’d throw up. 

You were actually going on tour with Lycoris Radiata, for at least six months. 

A lot can happen in that amount of time and while you were nervous to spend so much time with the infuriating and annoying asshole aka Hwang Hyunjin, you were also excited for the new experience and the places you’ll get to see.

Of course, you couldn’t leave without attending a ‘have an amazing tour’ party that was mostly exclusive only for staff and a few other people. 

You were on your second glass of beer as you sat at the bar, the cold bitter liquid not calming you down as it should. 

Hyunjin was having a jolly old time, entertaining some girls of course and if you had rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“Don’t take that to heart.” Aiden suddenly appeared next to you.

“What?” you chuckled awkwardly, shaking away your thoughts.

“Hyunjin flirting like that. He’s a lot of talk, more than anything else.”

“Why would I care if he flirts with some random girls?” you frowned. “It’s none of my business.”

“Right.” Aiden pursed his lips. “Well, I’m gonna go find Anthony.”

“Sure.” you shrugged, your eyes flying back to Hyunjin and the girls who were salivating all over him. 

He was showing them his biceps and they were touching him like they’ve never seen a human arm in their life. 

You scoffed, shaking your head when a voice behind you startled you. 

“Now, why is a pretty lady such as yourself sitting all alone?” 

You turned around with your eyebrow lifted, coming face to face with a stranger. 

“Because it’s her choice.” you answered.

“Oh, feisty and pretty? That’s a fun combo.” the guy smirked, his arm leaning on your chair, almost hugging your waist as he got closer to you. 

Your nose scrunched up, he smelled of alcohol and you really wanted him to leave you alone. 

“I’m pretty boring, trust me.” you said.

“Oh, I don’t believe that. In fact, I think if you were to let me take you home tonight, you and I could have so much fun.” he smirked and you were pretty sure you barfed in your mouth a little.

“No, thank you.” you said sarcastically. 

He chuckled, placing his arms around you.

You were completely unaware of Hyunjin who was keeping an eye on you and the suspicious guy. 

As soon as the man placed his hands on you, Hyunjin pushed the girl he was talking to aside, his heavy combat boots taking him right to you and the disturbance in your personal space.

“I don’t really take no for an answer.” he said and your heart sank momentarily. 

“Back off man!” you tried to push him away but he wasn’t budging.

Suddenly the guy was ripped away from you with such force that it pulled you to your feet.

You grabbed at the bar to steady yourself and gasped just in time to see Hyunjin swinging his fist at the man. 

“Oh my god!” you almost screamed, your eyes wide as the guy fell to the floor instantly. 

People quickly gathered around and Anthony was trying to push them away so he could grab Hyunjin. 

“The lady said no, you fucking dirtbag!” Hyunjin said, swinging at the man again. 

“Oh my god, Hyunjin! Stop, it’s okay, please!” you panicked, never seeing him this angry or violent. 

“Hwang! Enough!” Anthony yelled, grabbing Hyunjin’s arms and lifting him up as he fought against his manager, still trying to punch the man who was now laying on the floor with his face completely bloody. 

You kept looking at Hyunjin with a shocked expression as he breathed hard, his face red and sweaty from anger, the veins on his neck and forehead popping out.

“I stopped, now let me go.” he said through his teeth as someone lifted up the unconscious guy.

“Hyunjin, if this gets out to the press it could turn into a fucking shitstorm! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Anthony yelled angrily as Hyunjin stood with his fists still clenched. 

“He made y/n uncomfortable and he deserved it.” Hyunjin answered before turning towards you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes softening as you stared at him in disbelief.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m done with this party.” Hyunjin said, turning on his heel and grabbing his jacket before he walked out, leaving you standing there still trying to process what the hell just happened.

-

You were half asleep when Ana drove you to the tour bus. 

You barely slept last night, tossing and turning in your bed as the images of Hyunjin punching that guy from the party kept swimming in your head. 

Never has a man defended you like that and you’ve never seen Hyunjin look so livid before. 

He was usually either smirking, laughing or being a menace, ready to always annoy you but you’ve never seen him actually angry.

It was kind of… hot, you thought before shaking it off.

You wondered why he reacted like that.

“You okay?” Ana snapped you out of your vegetative state as you sank in the passenger seat, arms crossed and hood over your head. 

“Hm? Yeah, just sleepy.” you sat up and looked around. 

The sun wasn’t even up yet. 

“You can continue sleeping on the tour bus. We’re here.” she chuckled. 

“Oh, goody.” you sighed before opening the door and walking out.

“Morning, ladies.” Anthony all but ran up to Ana, helping her with yours and her bags since she’d be joining you too. 

“Morning? It’s still night.” you checked your phone, seeing it was 4:13am. 

“Not where I come from. You see-” Anthony started.

“Okay, I’m too asleep to listen to this.” you shook your head before strolling towards the bus. 

You were about to just climb in and go straight to the nearest bed you could find but you heard some quiet music coming from behind the back of the bus. 

You approached slowly and peeked around to see Hyunjin leaning on the wall, smoking and listening to some quiet music. 

He looked up instantly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights for a short moment. 

“Remembered to put on a jacket?” he smirked. 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” you said and he shrugged, looking away and turning the music off. 

As he brought his cigarette to his lips, you noticed his knuckles were red and injured. 

“I guess I should thank you for last night.” you said quietly, swinging on your feet awkwardly as you dug your hands in your pockets. 

“It was nothing.” he shook his head quickly. 

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.” you motioned to his hand. 

“This?” he looked at his hand and chuckled. “You should see the other guy.” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes. 

“Clever.” 

“Come to think of it, it does hurt a bit. Wanna kiss it better?” Hyunjin smirked, puffing the smoke out. 

“Bite me.” you gave him the middle finger as he laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet early hours.

“I might. If you ask nicely.” he said with that smug expression of his.

“I’m going inside.” you shivered, realizing how cold it actually was, ignoring his witty quips. 

“I’m right behind ya.” he threw his cigarette on the floor before stepping on it. 

Your heart started beating fast out of nowhere as his heavy boots stomped behind you, the sound escorting you to the entrance of the bus. 

“Oh wow.” your eyes widened as you looked around the living/kitchen area. 

“You like?” Hyunjin leaned over your shoulder and you jolted away from him, making him snicker. 

“Yeah, it’s… not what I expected. It looks more cozy than I thought it would.” you nodded.

“You should thank the interior designer.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“And who might that be?” you asked, making your way to the bunk bed area. 

“Oh, just a guy. He takes payment in kisses.” Hyunjin bumped into you as you stopped. 

“Is that guy maybe you?” you turned around, not realizing immediately just how close Hyunjin was to you. 

“Maybe it is.” he leaned towards you with a smirk and you squealed a little, stepping away from him.

“Give it up. I’m taking the top bunk bed.” you pointed to the left side. 

“Not fair! I always take that one!” Hyunjin pouted.

“Tough luck, I called it first.” you smirked, taking off your jacket and throwing it up on the bed. 

“Or… we can both sleep up there?” Hyunjin said and you scoffed, pushing him away. 

“Like hell!” 

“Are y’all fighting this early?” Brendon came in, looking confused and disheveled. 

“No, it’s foreplay.” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows and you made gagging noises. 

“Here’s your bag, y/n.” Ana appeared with your luggage. 

Aiden and Anthony came in after and everyone took some time to unpack and get settled. 

“I heard we have two pretty ladies with us, so you fellas gotta behave now.” you heard an unknown voice and leaned over to see who it belonged to.

“Oh, we always behave, Stu.” Hyunjin smirked. 

“Yes, especially you.” the man, Stu, rolled his eyes. 

“This is our main driver Stu.” Aiden introduced you and Ana to him. 

“Pleasure to meet you ladies. Hopefully the road won’t be too bumpy.” he winked before turning around and leaving. 

“Where is Bradley?” Anthony piped in suddenly.

“Who’s Bradley?” you asked, at this moment you just wanted to get everything over with and catch up on some sleep.

“Our sound guy.” Brendon answered. “And lights guy. He is underpaid and overworked, basically.” he added, giving Anthony a pointed look. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault Mike quit!” he lifted his hands up. “Besides, we’re picking someone up in the next town over. He’ll be our roadie along with Bradley.” 

As they started discussing, you slipped away to the bathroom, where you could change in peace and get ready for bed. 

You leaned on the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror as you listened to the muffled voices talking. 

Were you doing the right thing? 

Accepting to join another band when your heart still hurts from the sudden falling apart between your friends and band members… 

“Y/n, I need the bathroom!” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality and you stood up straight. 

“I’m not done yet!” you yelled back. “You have another bathroom!” you added annoyingly, preparing to brush your teeth. 

“Aiden hogged it. Are you naked or something? Cause I swear I don’t mind.” 

You could just hear the smirk in his voice. 

Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes and they lingered on your legs in the shorts you put on, going up to your chest and lingering again before he looked up at your face. 

He was playing with his lip ring again, his cheeks rosy. 

“What do you want?” you spat.

“Just wanna brush my teeth.” he looked at you smugly. 

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and continued brushing your teeth. 

You opted to leave the door opened since it felt awkward to have them closed. 

“Isn’t this fun, us brushing our teeth together? It’s kinda domestic, don’t you think?” Hyunjin said suddenly, the familiar smirk on his face. 

“Yes, thrilling.” you answered sarcastically. “You don’t have to act nice, Hyunjin. Everyone knows we hate each other so let’s just not talk too much and try to coexist peacefully for the sake of everyone else on this tour.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to answer but you quickly turned around and left, not wanting to get into it with him when you were tired and nervous. 

He smirked to himself, shaking his head. 

The only thing stuck in his brain at that moment was the way you said his name. 

God, he loved it. 

-

You slept for a few hours only, waking up early yet again as the bus rolled to a stop at a diner. 

“Rise and shine, princess.” Hyunjin’s head popped up in front of you as he held onto your bed.

“Fuck off.” you grabbed your pillow and smacked him with it, almost making him fall down but he managed to land on his feet. 

You heard a smack and Hyunjin saying ‘ow’ quietly before Aiden said,

“Come down if you’re hungry.” 

You chuckled to yourself, waiting for them to leave so you could get ready.

Of course, as soon as you sat down in a booth, Hyunjin pushed Brendon aside and quickly slid next to you. 

“Oh my god.” you rolled your eyes. 

You were squished between him and Ana on your other side, and he was too close for comfort. 

You could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of his shampoo and body wash mixed with cigarettes. 

You tried to ignore the feelings stirring in your gut as you ordered.

“So, how did you like sleeping on top of me?” Hyunjin smirked, tilting his head. 

“Not as much as you liked sleeping under me, weirdo.” you scoffed at him and he chuckled.

“I liked it very much, so that must mean you liked it at least a little.” he said as the food arrived and your stomach growled. 

“Whatever you say.” you brushed him off and started to dig in. 

“We’re close to our first destination.” Anthony started after a sip of coffee. “We will arrive around 4pm and have lunch, then we get ready and do the soundcheck. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads no. 

You suddenly felt nervous tingles running up your spine, and for some reason Hyunjin felt it. 

“Don’t worry princess, you’ll do great.” he smirked, placing his hand on top of your wrist. 

You snatched your hand away and looked at him. 

“I know I will, I was just wondering if you’ll be able to keep up with me.” you smirked back at him. 

“You’ll be surprised at how well I can keep up, baby.” Hyunjin leaned into your personal space, his eyes boring into yours and you felt your cheeks burning.

“Be nice, you two.” Ana chuckled.

“What? I haven't called him an asshole yet. Emphasis on yet.” 

Hyunjin laughed next to you, his arm brushing against yours.

Oh, he is so going to enjoy this.

-

It was such a good, familiar feeling to sit behind a drum kit after being the main vocalist and guitarist of your band for so long. 

The venue was empty at this moment and the sound of the drums echoing in the space was grand. 

You closed your eyes and started playing a groove to get into the mood and Hyunjin was lured towards the stage instantly. 

He watched you in awe even though he saw you play the drums before, they never had the name of his band on the front of them. 

Hyunjin felt proud; that his band has come so far and honored that you were now a part of their story. 

He hoped you’d enjoy the tour and judging by the blissful look on your face, you were off to a good start. 

“Let’s go, Hyun.” Brendon smacked his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. 

It was time for the soundcheck, and when everyone was finally on stage, tuning their instruments, you realized that this is real. 

Excitement replaced any nerves you had and you were ready to tear the stage apart. 

“Let’s jam a little.” Aiden smiled as everyone agreed.

He started to play a melody on his bass so you followed him with the drums.

You were so focused on grooving that you didn’t notice Hyunjin winking at his two other band members.

When it was time for him to start playing his guitar, Hyunjin decided to play totally out of tune. 

You looked up at him with your brows furrowed as you tried to follow him.

He changed it up suddenly, that familiar shit eating grin spreading on his face as you followed him yet again. 

Brendon and Aiden stopped playing as they observed the two of you, battling it out with your instruments. 

Hyunjin was trying hard to get on your nerves, push your buttons but you weren’t gonna let him in. 

“Having some trouble following, princess?” he yelled over the noise. 

You looked at him pointedly as he started to play another melody that made no sense and you’ve had enough. 

Hyunjin had a way of getting under your skin and he obviously knew that. 

Your arm lifted up on its own accord and you swung one of your drumsticks right at Hyunjin, aiming for his empty head. 

His eyes widened and he managed to dodge it in a close second as the drumstick clattered on the floor. 

“Ha! Attempted murder! Y’all saw that!” he pointed at you, while looking at his friends and you started laughing. 

“Don’t worry, even if it did hit your head, it couldn’t damage it more than it already is.” you smirked as Hyunjin huffed. 

“Oh baby, keep talking. Degradation is my thing.” he motioned towards his ear with his fingers and you made a disgusted face at him. 

Of course, the asshole laughed at your expression. 

“Guys, can we actually practice?” Brendon chimed in as Aiden nodded. 

Instead of answering verbally, you started playing so everyone joined in. 

-

“Are you nervous?” Aiden asked as the venue filled up and it all became real.

“Nope, I’m ecstatic!” you answered, twirling your drumstick in your hand. 

“Trying to murder me once again?” Hyunjin appeared next to you as you almost hit him with it.

“Trust me, if I was trying to kill you, you’d already be dead.” 

“Nobody’s killing anyone, we’re already short on staff.” Anthony smirked before putting his arms around Hyunjin and Brendon’s shoulders. 

“Good luck guys! And y/n, of course. I know y’all will do great.” Anthony smiled. 

Ana came up to you to hug you. 

“Good luck, babe!” she smiled. 

“Thank you.” you gave her a bone crushing hug, she was always like a sister to you and having her here now meant a lot to you. 

As soon as you walked out on stage, the screams of all the people that came to see you perform were deafening but heartwarming. 

Hyunjin was the main character on stage, that you were convinced of as whatever he did resulted in even louder screaming. 

You didn’t mind being the backbone of the band, playing drums to you was a meditative and transcending experience and anything you were angry or upset about, you could take it out while playing. 

Performing with Lycoris Radiata was fun as fuck, even more than you hoped for; seeing Hyunjin up close made you realize just why people loved him so much. 

He was charismatic, cool and lame at the same time, ethereally beautiful and down to earth, fun but sensitive, alluring but cute, he gave his all and more. 

He was everything wrapped up in one and you wondered how that was possible. 

A particular moment struck you; when you were playing a slower song, Hyunjin sang so delicately, his back turned to you as the lights beamed down on his frame, his sweaty hair and skin making him look like he was glowing. 

Your heart skipped a beat but you ignored it. 

Near the end of the show, Hyunjin did his usual routine which consisted of making everyone’s panties wet; it was time for the sex song he always sang near the end which made you feel embarrassed and uncomfortable but something about being on stage with them got you in the right mood for it.

The part came up; and Hyunjin was on the floor, moaning and humping the air as you followed his moans with the heavy sound of your drums. 

Hyunjin smirked, throwing his head back to look at you as he continued his ministrations and you continued following him on the drums. 

Aiden and Brendon joined in as Hyunjin became louder, resulting in you hitting the drums harder as the sounds all came together in a crescendo. 

You wished that you could press your thighs together to create pressure and friction because the whole thing managed to get you wet too. 

A part of you felt ashamed but you didn’t give a flying fuck in that moment, completely letting go of everything as the four of you continued jamming together. 

Hyunjin stood up with the biggest smile on his face, winking at you as he ran a lap around the stage before literally diving into the audience. 

You gasped to yourself but continued playing the outro to the performance while Hyunjin was being groped by horny fanboys and fangirls. 

Security was there to pull him back up on stage safely and Hyunjin sang the end of the song before screaming a ‘thank you’ into the mic. 

After all four of you bowed a hundred times, you finally ran backstage where a very sweaty Hyunjin started hugging everyone, eventually coming up to you. 

“Don’t even think about it.” you said as he opened his arms. 

“Not thinking, just doing it.” he smirked and before you could run away, his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his body. 

“Ew!” you squirmed against him and he chuckled. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” he held you tighter and your heart leaped out of your chest. 

The bastard smelled so good even after sweating so much and it annoyed you how seemingly perfect he was. 

“What, a gross sweaty man slobbering all over me?” you scrunched up your face as you finally pushed him away.

“I wasn’t slobbering but if you’re into that-”

“Please shut up while I’m still in a good mood.” you stopped him and he laughed. 

“It’s so fun messing with you, darling.” Hyunjin ruffled your hair as you practically hissed at him, making him laugh again. 

“You guys were fucking amazing!” Anthony yelled excitedly. 

“I don’t know about you but I need some food.” Aiden piped in. 

“I’m feeling thirsty, honestly.” Brendon added.

“Are we partying or what?” Hyunjin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Hell yeah, we are!” Anthony high-fived him. 

You ended up having the afterparty in the bus, ordering some food and acquiring some beer as you sat around in the living space. 

Of course, as soon as you walked in, you ran for the shower, with Hyunjin cascading behind you and asking if he could join you because “it’ll be done faster”. 

“Dream about it, asshole!” you yelled before closing the bathroom door. 

“Oh, I do.” Hyunjin smirked to himself, but you didn’t hear him. 

The excitement of the performance slowly washed away from your body along with Hyunjin’s scent that lingered after he hugged you, and you felt happy and cozy. 

All of you finally settled down to eat and Hyunjin claimed the spot next to you, of course, his long slender fingers stealing your fries constantly.

“Will you back off! You have your own fries.” you slapped his arm as he whined. 

“Yours are tastier.” he claimed with that familiar smirk of his.

“Are they now?” you smirked back. 

“Mhm.” he nodded pointedly.

“Let’s see then.” you grabbed your box and dumped all your fries into his box before mixing them up. “Pick one up and distinguish if it’s from your box or mine.”

Hyunjin stared at you with his lips parted before he smiled. 

“Aw, we’re sharing.” he said and continued eating as you heard some chuckles around the table. 

“For fucks sake.” you muttered, shaking your head.

The rest of the night was full of chatter and laughter, and you didn’t mind Hyunjin’s arm or leg brushing against you ever so often, or his loud laughter ringing in your ears or him constantly poking at you. 

It’s barely been one day on tour and he wasn’t as unbearable as you thought he’d be. 

Everyone was tired and you had to hit the road so it was finally peaceful, before a loud scream startled everyone.

“Oh no, I am going to die!” Hyunjin wailed dramatically.

“What’s wrong with him?” you rolled your eyes as Aiden came in. 

“He lost his teddy bear.” 

“He what?” you chuckled in disbelief.

“Hyunjin’s teddy, he always takes it with him. He’s had it since he was a baby and he’s convinced it brings him luck.” Aiden shrugged and Hyunjin ran into the living area.

“We are doomed!” he said, grabbing your arms and shaking you. 

“Calm down, it must be around here somewhere.” you sighed.

“Help me look?” Hyunjin batted his eyelashes at you as Aiden slipped away.

“Hyunjin, I’m tired, I need to get some sleep.” you whined. 

“Me too! But I can’t sleep without my teddy.” he said, you couldn’t believe he was serious. “I will crawl up to your bunk and annoy you all night if you don’t help me look.” he added, smirking.

“Fine, I’ll help you.” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you don’t want me in your bed at all?” he kept smirking. 

“Zip it. Let’s find your precious teddy.”

“Yes!” Hyunjin scurried after you as the two of you basically did a search and rescue mission for his favorite plush. 

Eventually, you walked into the other bathroom, finding the old teddy sitting on the counter.

“There you are.” you picked up, chuckling at the state of it. 

You couldn’t help it as you sniffed the teddy and sure enough it smelled just like its owner. 

“Found it!” you yelled and Hyunjin bursted in, panting and smiling. 

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, grabbing the teddy and then you as he enveloped you in a hug for the second time that night. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Hyunjin held you tightly and you chuckled. 

“Alright, you’re thankful, I get it. You can let go now.” you said, patting his back. 

“I owe you.” he muttered.

“I really didn’t do anything.” 

“You did, trust me.” he smiled. 

As you laid in your bunk bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Hyunjin. 

He seemed somehow different or you were just now seeing different sides of him that you didn’t see before. 

You didn’t hate him completely. 

-

Ten days on tour and things were going great. 

Every show was better than the last one, every venue bigger than the last one, every note played made Lycoris Radiata mean more and more to you. 

Tonight was no exception as you ripped the stage once again, this time Hyunjin ended up lifting Aiden and spinning him at the end which almost made the poor man throw up from excitement. 

“This was Lycoris Radiata, see you next time!” and with that you ran backstage where Hyunjin had to hug everyone, even asking for a group hug. 

You had to humor him. 

When your head finally hit the pillow, you couldn’t sleep even though you were exhausted. 

You kept replaying one particular moment from the show in your head. 

It was while Hyunjin was singing his famous sex song, before the moaning part, he came up to you and sang while looking at you. 

You kept playing and looking at him intently as he sang the lewd lyrics right into your face. 

Before he took off, Hyunjin lifted his hand, making a V shape with his fingers, doing the licking motion between them, his tongue piercing shining in the big stage light. 

Your mouth fell agape for a moment as you felt hotness spread all over your body and he smirked smugly when you made a tiny mistake in your playing. 

People didn’t notice but he did. 

And he was satisfied with it. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it had been a while since you’ve had a little ‘you time’ but it was hard to do that with so many people in the bus. 

Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed, hearing some shuffling beneath you. 

“Y/n?” Hyunjin suddenly climbed up into your bed, startling you as you sat up and turned on the little light inside. 

“W-what are you doing?” 

“I can’t sleep. And I figured you weren’t sleeping either.” Hyunjin whispered.

“And how did you figure that?” you clutched your blanket. 

“You sighed like a hundred times.” he chuckled quietly.

“What do you want?” you rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“To hang out.” he pulled out a deck of cards out of nowhere. 

“We can’t make too much noise, we’ll wake everyone up.” you shook your head. 

“Fine then we’ll do something quiet.” Hyunjin smirked, tossing the cards aside and laying down next to you, his eyes closing.

“Turn the light off, sweetheart.” he cracked one eye open as you stared at him in disbelief. 

“You are not sleeping in my bunk. Go back downstairs.” you whispered.

“No.” he answered simply. 

“Hyunjin, I’m warning you, I will push you down.”

“Will you? You’ll wake up the whole bus.” he smirked. 

“God, you’re so annoying!” you whisper-yelled, giving up as you laid down, turning away from Hyunjin. 

“Be nice and share your blanket.” Hyunjin’s breath hit the back of your neck, making you shiver as goosebumps rose on your skin. 

“Need anything else?” you muttered as he hogged your blanket and your personal space. 

“A goodnight kiss?” Hyunjin leaned over you, peering at your face hopefully.

You gave him the side eye and he chuckled. 

“Maybe some other time, hm?” he asked. 

“Go to sleep.” you said and he laid down behind you. 

“Goodnight, darling.” Hyunjin wanted to reach out and touch your hair but he figured you’d probably break his arm. 

You didn’t answer, your heart beating so hard that you were afraid it was shaking the bed and Hyunjin could feel it. 

You quickly turned off the light and tried to calm down.

There was enough space to where he wasn’t touching you but you felt his warmth, his scent, his breath on your skin.

It was driving you crazy and making you feel calm at the same time. 

You managed to fall asleep somehow.

-

At some point, in the middle of the night, Hyunjin and you gravitated closer to each other and you ended up in his arms. 

When you slowly blinked your eyes open and realized you were staring straight at Hyunjin’s chest, you jolted away from him, making him groan quietly. 

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled into your pillow, trying to grab you.

“As far as I can from you.” you said, wiggling out of his arm that eventually caught you as he groaned again.

“Something’s poking my ass.” Hyunjin gasped when he rolled over and you laughed. 

“It’s the cards, you idiot.” rolling your eyes, you left the bunk feeling embarrassed and insane as your face heated up. 

What are you doing, sleeping in the same bed as Hyunjin?

You hate him, right?

You weren’t so sure anymore. 

Yes, he was annoying but somehow that became kind of endearing. 

He has bugged you every single day since the tour started and if he suddenly stopped, it’d feel weird. 

You sighed, shaking off your thoughts as you grabbed your phone, munching on your breakfast. 

“Morning, y/n. Tell me am I crazy or did Hyunjin sleep over in your bunk?” Ana smirked at you as she brought two coffees. 

“You are crazy. But yes, he slept in my bunk.” you said. 

“Interesting.” she smirked, lifting one eyebrow up. 

“Hey, I saw you sleeping in Anthony’s bunk multiple times. What’s that about?” you teased as you opened up your insta. 

“Well, everyone knows we have a thing for each other. You and Hyunjin though… oh yeah, you have a thing too.” 

“We don’t have a thing.” you quickly said as Ana chuckled. 

“Right. Mhm.” 

You continued scrolling, and that’s when you noticed it; the hate comments on your posts. 

‘She’s just a slut who’s after Hyunjin’

‘She’s delusional if she thinks he’d like her like she’s ugly lmao’

‘Untalented bitch’

‘Get her away from my Hyunjin’

‘She deserved her band falling apart they were shit anyways’

‘Y/n should retire from the music scene’

Your eyes started stinging with tears as you skimmed through the comment section. 

“What’s wrong?” Ana tilted her head to look at you. 

You slid your phone to her and she gasped. 

“You know these people are probably some jealous, unsuccessful suckers.” she said. 

“I need some air.” you sucked in a breath before hurriedly leaving the bus. 

“What’s with her?” Hyunjin walked in. “Is she mad at me?”

“No, look.” Ana showed him your phone. 

Hyunjin frowned instantly, running out of the bus after you. 

You stood not too far away with a cigarette in your hand as you hugged yourself with your other arm and Hyunjin’s eyes softened when he saw you shivering in the wind.

“I knew you’d forget to bring a jacket.” Hyunjin put his leather jacket around you, smoothing his hand over your back a few times. 

You exhaled a puff of smoke, not answering him as you melted into his big jacket. 

Hyunjin took out a cigarette for himself and you reached out with your lighter, lighting it up as he smirked. 

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Well, I’m feeling extra stressed right now so I needed something to take the edge off.” you shrugged. 

“Because of the comments?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about them.” 

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighed. 

“It’s not your fault.” you said. 

“I feel like it is.” 

Hyunjin was standing so close to you that his arm was touching yours while both of you continued smoking.

You stood silently next to each other for a few more moments as the clouds passed you by, and slowly but surely Hyunjin closed the gap between your hands as he  touched yours briefly before he wrapped his pinky around yours. 

“Hey, you know I’m honored you’re part of my band.” his tone was serious and you couldn’t bear to look at him or you’d burst into tears. 

“I know.” you smiled as you kept looking into the distance. 

He smiled too, his eyes focused on you.

Hyunjin had your back; and that was a pinky promise.

-

Finally, you arrived to your next destination, and you’d be there for a few days which meant you had to check into a hotel. 

You were glad to have some time to yourself, you needed a real shower and a real bed and just some time to get away from everything, recharge your batteries. 

You just finished with your shower and skincare when your phone annoyed you, buzzing with texts constantly. 

When you grabbed it you realized that you forgot to change Hyunjin’s name from ‘asshole’. 

You laughed to yourself, deciding to just add a little heart at the end. 

asshole<3: y/n what are you doing

asshole<3: why aren’t you answering

asshole<3: i’m BOREEEED

asshole<3: y/n!!!! 

asshole<3: princess?

asshole<3: i’m coming to your room

“Shit!” you exclaimed just in time when Hyunjin knocked on your door.

“Go away, Hyunjin!” you yelled on the other side. 

“Never! I will wake the whole damn floor if you don’t open this door.” he banged against it. 

“Spoiled brat.” you muttered to yourself before opening the door. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin looked you up and down, your hair still wet from the shower, your little nightgown accentuating all your goodies. 

“Did you dress up for me?” he smirked as his tongue darted out to play with his lip piercing; a habit you picked up on.

“Oh yeah, I was just waiting for you to come knocking on my door.” you answered sarcastically.

“Oh come on, I brought snacks.” he lifted up a few bags. 

“You should’ve said that first.” you stepped aside, letting him in. 

“So, are you here just because you’re bored?” you scoffed as he practically skipped to your bed before throwing himself on it. 

“No, I’m here cause I know you miss me.” he smirked at you. “I spared you the walk to my room, princess.” 

“Oh yeah, I am the one who missed you.” you said pointedly. 

“I know you are.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you groaned, throwing a pillow at him but the slick bastard caught it. 

“I’m gonna change into something else.” you said, feeling a bit self-conscious. 

“Into what? After that outfit, the only logical thing is to have nothing on.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” you snickered. 

“I would.” he smirked. 

“Changing right now!” you left for the bathroom to put on some actual pjs. 

“Don’t cross this line, Hyunjin.” you pointed as the two of you settled in your bed, ready to watch a movie and snack. 

He smiled his shit eating grin and put his finger over the line. 

“Whoops, crossed it.”

“Next time you lose a finger.” you threatened.

“Where is it gonna be misplaced?” he smirked. 

“Not where you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” he leaned closer to you. “But I can show you.”

“No thanks. Just watch the movie.” 

It was quiet for some time until Hyunjin spoke up. 

“I’m thinking of getting another tattoo.”

“Oh?” you didn’t take your eyes off the screen. “Where?”

“My back. I wanna finish what I started with my arm and shoulder.” he answered. 

“Which is?” you looked at him and he smirked. 

“Glad you asked.” he said, taking his shirt off. 

“Woah, woah, what are you doing?” you jolted as he tossed it aside. 

“Showing you my tattoos.” he giggled. “See, it’s one big picture. I sketched the original on my paper, it’s a flower’s life story. From a little seed all the way to the dust it becomes after it wilts forever. It’s not finished yet though.” he turned and you gulped. 

“That’s a beautiful thought actually.” 

“Feel the flowers.” Hyunjin turned his shoulder to you. 

“I’m not gonna touch your tattoos.” you said. 

“Come on, you know you want to.” he taunted you. 

“No, I don’t.” you shook your head. 

“Yes, you do. You started ogling me as soon as I took my shirt off.”

“That’s because of your musc- nothing, nevermind.” you quickly caught yourself, biting your tongue as your face started burning. 

“Because of what? My muscles? You like them?” he started flexing immediately.

“That’s disgusting, stop acting like that.” you slapped his arm without thinking and you both froze. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin smirked before taking your hand in his. “Really, I want you to feel my tattoos.” 

“Fine if it gets you to shut up.” 

Your fingers gently traced the delicate art on Hyunjin’s skin, starting from his wrist up his arm as you watched goosebumps rise on his skin. 

You took your time to trace every leaf and petal as Hyunjin looked at you intently, his breaths coming out shaky as you traced over his arm, your fingers swirling with the intricate patterns. 

Your hand came up to his shoulder as you continued tracing, his skin was so smooth and he was so warm under your touch. 

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whispered, his hand covering yours as he leaned in closer to you, his eyelids hooded. 

Your eyes widened when you realized he was about to kiss you and you quickly moved away. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you stood up and Hyunjin frowned at you. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?!” 

“Trying to get into my pants!” you scoffed. “I think you should sleep in your room.”

“B-but, it’s not like that!” Hyunjin stood up and you backed away.

“I know what it’s like. Please leave.” 

“Fine.” Hyunjin looked dejected as he grabbed his phone and shirt. “Teddy is lonely without me anyways.” he said, making a theatrical leave out of your room as he dragged his feet and kept giving you pointed looks. 

You were almost close to telling him he can stay, but as soon as he leaned in, you panicked and didn’t know how to react so you kept your mouth shut.

And you continued spiralling when he left, thinking about if he actually likes you or just wants to fuck you like he does to any girl. 

You’ve seen him with girls on his arms constantly and while you always thought what you felt was hate or disgust; in this moment you recognized it was jealousy and it didn’t feel good at all.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @simpforleeknaur @schniti-is-in-the-house

part 2

[starmapz]

what you know - ch6: intoxicated || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.7k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

Brushing the snow from his jacket, Sukuna flips his hood down and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He’d gotten up early enough to work out before taking the kids to school, but in usual fashion, his overly-excitable little brother had been such a handful that Sukuna didn’t get a chance to finish getting ready. He opted for a shower and just threw on the first set of clothes he could find.

He blows a breath out through his nose, scanning the lunch hall. He hasn’t exactly worked out what the hell he’s planning on saying to you after last night, but a promise is a promise and he swore to join you for lunch. He’s failed you enough times.

He trudges up to your usual table with his hands in his pockets, his usual aloof expression plastered across his features, though it twists to confusion as he realizes you aren’t there.

Haibara’s the first to notice him as he pauses a small distance behind your blonde friend. Kento, Sukuna thinks?

“Hey, Sukuna!”

He grunts in reply, before inquiring about your whereabouts.

Shoko and Kento exchange a glance that Sukuna recognizes as cautionary. “She’s sick,” Shoko’s eyes twitch as she narrows her gaze on him suspiciously. “She is sick, right Sukuna?”

Although he doesn’t mind Shoko, he doesn’t like what she’s insinuating, even if she is right. Clenching his fists in his coat pockets, he scowls at her with a tense jaw. “How the hell should I know?”

Shoko’s gaze lingers a moment longer before she sighs, giving in. “She said she was studying at home today. She doesn’t want anyone getting sick before finals,” Shoko explains, swinging her fork around as she speaks.

“That’s nice of her,” Sukuna comments, shooting a pointed glance at Kento who won’t stop glaring at him, which only serves to piss him off further.

With a final nod of acknowledgement intended primarily for Shoko and Haibara, Sukuna turns on his heel and heads back out into the snow. He loathes the strange sensation lingering in the back of his mind that he’s retreating from Shoko and Kento’s scrutiny like a dog with its tail between its legs, but what other option does he have? He’s not about to fight with them. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he heads towards the library with the intention of sending you an email.

Once isolated in the cold again, he lets out a sigh as his breath billows into the freezing winter air. Contritefully, he watches as snowflakes fall slowly and dissolve on the sleeve of his coat.

Fuck.

Shoko had every right to drag him through the mud the way she had, he knows she’s right. You’re not sick. He would have believed it if you were still watching over his sick little brother, but that hasn’t been the case for a while. You’re avoiding him. Without classes, you chose to stay home and avoid the possibility of running into Sukuna.

Lightly kicking a rock as he steps through the snow, the burly man pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He should be studying in the small amount of spare time he has. He should take extra shifts. He should go Christmas shopping for his brothers. He should meal prep. He should be doing anything other than skulking around campus thinking about the things going wrong in his life.

The worst part? Aside from one very large and glaring issue, you’re the source of all of his problems. Well, no, that’s not fair to you. You just happen to be at the center of all of them, but if he’s honest with himself, he knows there’s more to it than that.

You may be the source of all of his problems, but Sukuna is the cause of each and every one of them.

Taking a step towards the rock he kicked earlier, he sends it flying into the brick of the library with a satisfying thunk before ducking into the building.

Settling quietly in the corner of the library, Sukuna pulls out his laptop and opens his email, doing his best not to think too hard about what he’s typing.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 12:11 PM heard youre sick. you okay?

After hitting send, he leans over the table, running his hands over his face to mentally reset himself before diving into his studies.

To Sukuna’s relief, you do reply to his email just over an hour into his studies. He knows he fucked up, but at least you’re still acknowledging him this time.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Friday, 1:34 PM Yeah, sorry. I forgot to tell you.

He frowns at the sight of your email. It’s an awfully dry response in comparison to your usual bright demeanor. His fingers rest idly over his keyboard as he contemplates his reply.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 1:38 PM right. need anything

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 1:38 PM ?

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Friday, 1:59 PM I’m not going to ask you for soup, Sukuna.

Okay, so you’re at least a little bit mad at him. He slumps back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

He could bring you soup.

He could. He remembers you liking the bowl from the cafe he took you to.

He clenches his hand into a fist while biting down hard enough on his lip to draw blood. What the fuck is he thinking? Finals are next week, he’s hardly studied, he has to pick up his brothers in an hour and he has work all weekend.

He doesn’t have time to chase after his frayed connection to you.

His eyes trail across the speckled library ceiling. There’s a water stain just to the left of where he sits. He remembers thinking those sorts of marks were coffee when he was a kid. In retrospect, that makes no sense.

Hell, it makes about as much sense as Sukuna’s obsession with you as of late. He doesn’t have the time, nor the mental capacity to be sitting here stewing over an email that he could be reading too much into.

Leaning forward over the table with a huff, his fingers run across the keys on his laptop as he formulates a reply that’s painfully him.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 2:09 PM feel better

It doesn’t shock him that you don’t reply this time.

–

For the better part of the week, a feeling of unease seems to follow Sukuna like a fly he can’t seem to swat away. Even through finals, he finds himself wanting nothing more than to slam his head against his desk in hopes that thoughts of his fuck up might finally leave.

Yet the taste of you always remains on his tongue.

Bittersweet, like the sweetest memory tainted with the reminder that it never should have happened.

It was a mistake.

Throwing his hood up over his head, he leaves the school with one thing in mind.

Your fratboy friend is throwing his end of finals party tonight and Sukuna has every intention to drink to forget. To forget about the lawsuit, to forget about the ways he’s failed his little brothers, and most importantly: to forget about you.

He knows the feeling won’t last forever, but shit, it’ll be worth the way that he pleaded with Choso’s friend’s mother to take Yuji for the night too for a sleepover.

He just needs to escape for the night. He can worry about mentally resetting himself tomorrow morning when he wakes up with a killer hangover on some disgusting couch in Gojo’s ridiculous and over-decorated house.

Until then, he’ll continue on with his day as usual, picking up his brothers from school and cooking something to eat.

“Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna-”

“What?”

“- Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna-”

“Brat! What do you want?” He shoots a look of irritation at his little brother as the youngest Itadori bounds up to him with some sort of craft in his hand.

Sukuna sets his spatula down, leaning down to get a better view of the beaded creation in Yuji’s hand. There’s a yellow lizard dappled in black spots proudly seated atop his outstretched hand as though he’s a mad scientist showing off his greatest creation.

“It’s a lizard.”

“It’s a gecko,” the little boy proudly corrects him.

Sukuna’s nose wrinkles in exasperation. “Same thing.”

“No. They’re not.” This, of course, launches into a five minute explanation of the difference between lizards and geckos, which Sukuna hums along to as he rises back to his full height to continue cooking dinner.

“- so geckos are lizards but they’re not the same as lizards,” Yuji finishes his explanation, tugging at his older brother’s hoodie to hold out his gecko again. “This one’s a leopard gecko.”

“Didn’t know you liked lizards so much, Yu.” Sukuna’s tone is mild, a calm expression plastered on his face. Yuji’s interests change by the day, the only constant seeming to be pokemon and sports, though he’s gone from basketball to tennis to hockey over the course of the last year. Not that Sukuna can afford his interest in hockey, and cautiously pushed him back towards basketball.

Turns out when you’re five, all you need is for your cool older brother to install a basketball net on the back of your door and lift you up to do a slam dunk to be enthralled with the sport again. Sukuna thanks god for that.

“I love lizards!” He beams.

Sukuna hums, a rare smile pulling at his lips. “It’s a nice bead gecko.”

“Leopard gecko. Thanks Kuna! Guess who showed us how to make them?”

The corner of his lip twitches as he stares down at the spotted bead lizard. There’s no shock when Yuji says your name. The shock comes from the dreadful feeling that sits like a stone in the base of his stomach at just the sound of your name.

Fuck, he needs a drink.

“Can I show her?”

“No, Yu.”

“Please?”

“No-”

“Please? Pleeeeeeeaaaaaase?”

This has been a repeating situation practically all week. Yuji seemed to want to show every little thing to you and won’t relent until Sukuna sends an email. He would demand to know what you replied each and every time, and while there’s a part of Sukuna that’s grateful it gave him an excuse to reach out and hold onto your tense relationship, it equally caused him to relive his guilty conscience.

Sukuna sighs, giving in to the relentless pleading of his youngest brother.

“Fine. Let me finish dinner.”

With a cheer, Yuji runs off excitedly to inform Choso to prepare his best lizard to send a photo.

Sukuna’s shoulders rise and fall heavily as he lets out a breath. He stares down at the pan in front of him, the sizzling of gnocchi and tomato sauce offering little distraction from his wandering thoughts.

It seemed no matter what he did, you were so ingrained in his life that he couldn’t escape you.

To say that’s what he wanted in the first place would be a lie. No, he never wanted to escape. He still doesn’t. He just wants things to go back to the way they were before he let his dick do all the thinking and kissed you.

If he wanted to escape, he wouldn’t have searched for you in the crowds during finals. He wouldn’t have frustratedly tossed his textbook on his desk with a thump that made Choso jump and come check on him. Your words echoed in his mind as he feigned a smirk and sent the boy away.

He’s worried about you.

Choso’s too smart for his age. He should be playing games with his friends, begging to see a PG-13 rated movie, anything but worrying about his own guardian.

The pop of tomato sauce brings him back to the present, and he hisses at the feeling of the boiling liquid hitting his forearm. He sets the spatula aside, shutting off the stove and wiping the sauce off with his thumb, popping it into his mouth with a pop!

He needs to get his shit together.

He calls the kids into the dining area for dinner, and before long he’s sitting in front of his laptop, the screen pointed at his brothers, waiting for Choso and Yuji to position themselves in front of the camera with big smiles. In Yuji’s hand is the leopard gecko that he figures you must have told him about, proudly displayed with a toothy smile. Choso’s lizard is a dark purple with a white stripe, his smile more reserved but his eyes shine just as bright.

Sukuna snaps the photo, pulling his laptop back towards him. Yuji clambers onto Sukuna’s lap, met with a grunt and a mildly irritated “enough, Yu.” Choso peers at the laptop screen quietly, watching as Sukuna opens his email chain with you. The last few emails between you both are almost the same as this one, typing out that the kids wanted to show you their lizards.

Your replies to his brothers’ antics have been more positive than your replies to him. He wonders if you knew they were constantly asking about your responses or if the rift between you was healing, but he assumes the former. You’re good with his brothers. They adore you, and you seem to feel the same towards them.

“Tell her my new favorite lizard is um-” Yuji pauses to think, pulling Sukuna back to the present. It seems he’s lost in thought a lot lately. “A frilled lizard!”

“Mm.” He glances at Choso, urging the young boy to choose one as well.

“I like… iguanas.”

Sukuna nods, typing out the boys’ message to you before hitting send. “There. Now go get ready for your sleepover.”

He lets out a sigh as his brothers restlessly go bursting out the door back to their rooms to pack a bag, ensuring they bring just about every unnecessary toy and game and no toothbrush or toothpaste to be found. Exhausted from his finals, he drags himself along after them, packing jackets, gloves, extra socks and toiletries in their stead with a lazy scolding to be more careful.

He’s beyond burnt out and while he usually resents the mother of Choso’s friend for her obviously pitious comments towards Sukuna’s situation, for once he’s glad for her sympathy. If it means he gets just one full night to himself where he can fuck off and forget about all his problems, then he’ll take it. He’ll run with it and he won’t look back.

Once he’s loaded their backpacks into the lady’s car and provided his neighbor’s number in case of emergencies, he finds himself slumping back in his bed in relief. Despite his solace, the silence carries with it an eerie sense of foreboding. He doesn’t think he’s been alone in the comfort of his own home in almost three years now, and it should be a freeing feeling, yet he’s filled with trepidation in place of relaxation.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, dragging his hands down his face. He’s never been early to a party before but fuck it, he needs to dull the sharp edges of worry and doubt with alcohol. Grabbing his keys, he opens his locked bedside table drawer, violently shoving aside ripped legal papers to grab a few blunts and a shooter of Jack Daniels. His hand hovers over a small bottle of Everclear, but he opts to keep it for a later date, certain he’ll need the hard liquor another time.

Shutting and locking the drawer, he languidly begins getting ready, moving at a sluggish pace as he runs gel through his hair in order to get it spiked just how he prefers. He grabs a Danzig shirt, the sleeves chopped at the sides with arm holes deep enough that anyone could get a peek at his abs and chest. Topping it off with a black denim long sleeve and a pair of gray joggers, he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and throws on some cologne.

He pauses before heading out the door, his laptop seeming to loom over him like a ghost, begging him to check his email.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Friday, 7:51 PM Yuji!! Choso!! Those both look amazing!! You’re both so creative, it looks like it runs in the family :) Iguanas and frilled lizards are great choices. Maybe if you can steal your big brother’s laptop for a bit, you can find a bead frog tutorial. My favorite is the desert rain frog! They kind of remind me of your brother. ;)

It reminds you of him? A frog?

A quick google search has him scowling at his screen, an equally grumpy looking frog staring back at him.

Stupid. It’s stupid. He shouldn’t have looked.

Shutting the search window, his eyes train once more on your message to his brothers. Despite the fact that he wrote the email, you still seem to be upset with him, choosing to answer as though his brothers wrote it. At least you still teased him about looking like a frog.

Even if it’s stupid. It’s a stupid frog.

Slamming his laptop shut, he tosses his coat on, pockets his broken lighter in the side that isn’t singed, and makes his way out the door towards campus and Gojo’s frat house.

The weather has warmed up significantly over the past week to the point where he can’t see his breath anymore, although the ground is still coated in a thick layer of snow. Pulling out a blunt from his pocket between two deft fingers, he sets it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling deeply.

Among the many poor decisions Sukuna has made throughout his life, he didn’t mind adding tonight to his list if it meant drinking to forget and smoking to feel calm.

Although he’s earlier than most of the crowd, the music is already pumping loudly through speakers, bass booming through the ground beneath his feet as he makes his way up the porch stairs. He doesn’t recognize the frat boy letting people in, but one disinterested glare from Sukuna is all it takes for him to step aside. After all, who wouldn’t recognize Sukuna?

Swapping his lighter to his joggers’ pocket, he tosses his jacket over a coat rack and heads further into the house in search of something hard to get him buzzed as soon as possible. He blows smoke over the heads of most of the crowd, one of the perks of being nearly seven feet tall, as he heads towards the back of the house where he knows he’ll find the kitchen.

The further he moves from the makeshift dance floor in the front living area, the more reasonable the music volume becomes. College students chatter amongst each other, speaking loudly over the pumping bass, when a familiar voice grabs his attention.

“You made it!”

“Hey, buddy.”

“Well, well, look who decided to show his face.”

Sharp crimson irises flit between Uraume and Atsuya, who greet him casually, landing lastly on none other than Toji Zenin. Always at odds with Sukuna with a shit-eating grin as he pushes the pink-haired man’s buttons just a little bit too far.

“Uraume. Atsuya. Toji.”

It’s a miracle he still considers Toji a friend. Well, maybe an acquaintance. He certainly won’t bring Toji into the fray that is his life any time soon.

And Atsuya, well… The Kusakabe family is known for wealth, so Sukuna likes to keep him at arms’ length as well. Still, he enjoys his company. Uraume is easily his closest friend and he won’t deny that seeing them seems to ease his tension, even if only a little bit.

“So, finally decided we’re worth your time again? Or did you mess shit up with your girl?” Toji barks out a laugh, as though anything he’s saying is humorous.

“She ain’t my girl,” Sukuna growls, making a point of blowing smoke towards him.

“Dunno, you two seemed pretty close at lunch last week.” The scar on the corner of his lip stretches as he grins, taking a sip of whatever concoction is in his solo cup.

“Fuck off, Zenin,” Sukuna grumbles with a roll of his eyes. Toji should consider himself lucky he isn’t about to be at the center of Sukuna’s anger, saved only by the cannabis circling Sukuna’s system and dulling his thoughts, his anger, his mind. With a huff, Sukuna heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink.

“I see he still enjoys getting on your nerves,” Uraume observes, falling into step with him.

“Mm. Dunno how ya tolerate that asshole so much,” he comments, coming to a stop in the kitchen where he stubs out his blunt in an ashtray and opens the first bottle of rum he can find, pouring himself a rum and coke.

That is, if you can consider something that’s sixty percent rum a ‘rum and coke’.

“Me too, please,” Uraume requests. Sukuna hums, pouring a much more reasonable split of alcohol for them. “You can complain as much as you would like about Toji, but I know you two used to be close. Even if he can be a pain, I can tell you aren’t as bothered as you wish for him to believe.”

It’s true. Back in high school, the two were inseparable. Toji didn’t even mind when Sukuna’s father asked the two to take young Choso along to a basketball court or movie, so long as it was appropriate. Their issues came when Sukuna’s father passed away in their first year of college and he refused to speak with his best friend about it, choosing instead to take on mountains of stress on his own. As usual, Sukuna was the cause of his own problems.

Moving out of the dorms and finding a place for his two kid brothers to stay with him, that was a whole other challenge. Learning to change diapers, figuring out a schedule that worked both for the kids’ school and his education, that was what nearly dragged Sukuna to an early grave when he got horribly sick.

That’s where Uraume stepped in, helping to alleviate some of his classwork by taking on additional project work for him. They always expected something in return, but that’s just the way Sukuna preferred to make deals. They helped him get into the swing of taking care of two young kids.

Somewhere along that path, he came to the realization that they’d also had a big piece in both his and Choso’s recovery from grief. Sukuna had grown angry and Choso hardly spoke a word. Although still irritable, Sukuna is generally more reasonable nowadays and although still quiet, Choso is more talkative than he has been in a long time.

In particular with you. He knows Choso adores you, although he’s not as loud as Yuji is about it. Yuji may as well scream it from the tops of buildings.

Taking an unreasonably large sip of his drink, he wills away thoughts of you, replacing what he gulped down with more rum.

Uraume’s brow raises. “Difficult day?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he grumbles, alcohol and cannabis running through his veins and sending his mind into a haze so that he just might be able to handle Toji. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m relieved finals are over,” Uraume takes a sip of their drink with a small smile. “And it’s good to see you around again.”

“I saw you two days ago,” Sukuna points out, arching a brow.

They hum. “Yes, but Toji has a point. You’ve been spending more time with your project partner than us, which is unusual for you.”

He sighs. “Shit, guess I have.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Sukuna. I know you’re busy, and I can see she means a lot to you, but-”

“She’s just a project partner.”

Uraume purses their lips as they side-eye him. “... Right. Remind me, when did your project end?”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, shooting them a sharp look.

“As I was saying, I can see that she means a lot to you, so I don’t mind. I do wish you would get a new phone as I do miss texting, but our friendship won’t change.” They shoot him a reassuring smile, one that Sukuna lowers his defenses at the sight of.

“However Toji and Atsuya aren’t aware of your situation, which makes it appear as though you’re spending all of your time with her.” Uraume takes a sip of their drink, carding a hand through their snowy locks.

“Mm.” Sukuna runs his tongue over his lower lip as they approach the couch that Toji’s splayed himself over, manspreading with a bottle of beer held in one fist. He recognizes Toji’s cousin Naoya Zenin on the other end of the couch, surprised the two can even stand to be within five feet of one another. Toji may be an asshole, but somewhere buried beneath all that muscle is a fairly genuine person. Naoya, on the other hand, is the kind of person Sukuna wouldn’t mind socking in the face once or twice.

“So,” Toji starts, that infuriating grin returning. “Tell us ‘bout your girl.”

Sukuna chooses to stand between Atsuya and Uraume, his two friends who are decidedly less irritating. It’s a wonder him and Toji were ever close to begin with, though Sukuna supposes he was a lot different back when they hung out more.

The world had changed Sukuna, hardened him into a shell of what he once was.

“I told you, Zenin,” Sukuna hisses, “she’s not my girl.”

Toji scoffs, a wide grin across his face. “Yeah right. Ya got fuckin’ heart-eyes for her. Holdin’ her hand in the lunch hall n’ shit.”

Sukuna downs more of his rum, relishing in the burn as it slides down his throat. “We were studying, shithead. I owe her a favor, that’s all.”

“Yeah? You gonna bring her home n’ cuddle all cute-like?” The raven-headed man teases.

Atsuya sighs at Sukuna’s side, chewing idly on a toothpick. “Can you two shut up?” He grumbles, knuckles white as he grips his beer bottle tighter at the grating sound of their argument. “Giving me a damn headache.”

“C’mon Atsuya, I know ya saw it too,” Toji eggs both men on.

“Toji, enough,” Uraume scolds.

“Nah, I know Atsuya saw it.”

A muscle ticks in Sukuna’s jaw, his teeth grinding as he does what he can to push his frustrations aside. Turns out a full solo cup and blunt aren’t enough to dull Sukuna’s senses to the point where he can tolerate this conversation.

He’s supposed to be forgetting, yet here Toji is pushing the thought of you back in his face, infuriating him.

He downs the rest of his rum in two gulps, staring at the empty cup with a scowl, completely dazed as he tunes out the sound of his friends.

Heart-eyes. As-fucking-if. He scoffs to himself at the thought, staring back over the heads of the crowd towards the kitchen. He needs something harder after all. He should have brought the Everclear.

His relationship with you is similar to that of him and Uraume, he’s sure of it. It doesn’t go beyond that.

So why is he drinking to forget you?

Finally pulled from his thoughts, he turns on his heel to get something harder when he realizes where the conversation has turned in his absence.

Naoya questioningly tilts his head at Toji, a sleazy grin on his face as your name leaves his lips. Sukuna’s lip instinctively curls in disgust at the sound of your name leaving his lips. That’s not where it belongs, and Sukuna doesn’t dare imagine a world where this asshole so much as looks at you, because he thinks it just might give him an aneurysm.

Hell, he thinks an aneurysm would be kinder than the thought of Naoya Zenin ever looking your way.

“She’s fuckin’ hot, she’d look sexy as hell under-” Naoya’s gaze seems to search the crowd for you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Toji interrupts with a distasteful snarl, but it’s Sukuna’s words that seem to cut the crowd, red hot rage boiling in his chest.

“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence,” Sukuna barks, his tone low as he takes a step towards the vile excuse for a human being.

Naoya hardly seems phased by Sukuna’s outburst, although the throng of the crowd has dimmed in the face of Sukuna’s fury. “Aw, is she claimed, Sukuna? Is she your little playth-”

Sukuna barrels forward, not offering Naoya the time of day to speak.

Naoya’s eyes widen as Sukuna’s fist raises, barely managing to cower out of the way in time as Sukuna’s knuckles narrowly miss the blonde’s face and collide with the back of the couch. His eyes swirl with a ferocity that his friends haven’t seen before as they all leap towards him. Atsuya and Toji grab either of his arms and with a harsh pull from Toji, Sukuna stumbles backwards. They’re lucky he’s tipsy and not as stable as usual.

“Woah buddy, I’m all for teaching him a lesson, but let’s not start shit right now.” Atsuya speaks from a place of reason, but Sukuna knows he simply doesn’t want their group to get thrown out by Gojo.

… Again.

At least last time, it was Toji who started shit with Naoya.

Sukuna’s teeth are gritted as his friends hold him back. Naoya’s face has twisted from barely disguised fear into a satisfied smirk. “Did I touch a nerve, big guy?”

Sukuna lunges forward, stumbling back into the wall behind him as Toji pulls him back harshly. He grunts as his back collides with the wall, venom dripping from each syllable as he speaks in a dangerous tone. “If I hear you talkin’ about anyone like that again, I won’t hesitate to throw you through the nearest fucking wall.” Sukuna stares down at his knuckles that collided with the wooden back of the couch. They’re not bleeding, but they’ll bruise.

Naoya opens his mouth to retort, but his words die in his throat when Sukuna pushes off the wall, standing at his full height. Naoya’s tall, but Sukuna makes everyone look short. His usual smug expression falls as he chooses the cowardly option and slips away with an irritated grumble. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spat slowly begins to return to their conversations again, not daring to shoot a glance at the monstrous man spitting threats at the back of the room.

Sukuna huffs, flexing his hand as he moves past his friends to head back towards the kitchen, shoving his way through the crowd. He’s tipsy, but fuck, it’s not enough.

His brothers, his friends, even Naoya, why does everything constantly lead back to you? It’s like you’re some sort of succubus with your claws buried deep within the recesses of his mind that he can’t escape. Yet even as he spins the cap off of a bottle of Jack, he realizes it's his resentment of the way you’re so deeply ingrained in his life that’s causing him to think such a thing.

You’re not a succubus, you’re more like a fairy. Soft, sweet, and kind.

Sukuna pauses his motions, staring down at the bottle. His fingers drum lightly on the stem of the glass as something akin to distress stirs deep within him. He grips the bottle with white knuckles, his throat tight. Before he has time to consider what it is that you mean to him, Toji comes jogging over.

“Hey, everythin’ alright, man?”

The look on his face reminds Sukuna of a time long past. Of late nights at barely-lit skateparks as Sukuna learned the ropes of graffiti. Of long afternoons chatting as they passed a basketball back and forth in the late afternoon sun. It wasn’t so long ago but it feels like a lifetime after the battering Sukuna’s last few years have caused him.

“Why the hell is he even invited?” The pink-haired brute gruffs rather than offering a reply to Toji.

No, he’s not okay.

“Everyone’s invited, Ryo.”

Sukuna shoots him a glare. Everyone’s gotta have a nickname for him, don’t they? He sighs heavily, letting out a long breath before downing several gulps of Jack straight from the bottle. Just once, he wishes he was a lightweight.

He just wants his mind to go blank. He wants the racing thoughts to stop.

“Woah, let’s pace ourselves, yeah?” Toji reaches out to grab the bottle with a grimace, eyeing his long-time friend as he sets the Jack down and pours them both much more reasonable looking ratios of rum to coke. “Alright, so I guess you’re not okay. That’s fine,” he mumbles as he passes Sukuna a cup. “Let’s jus’ go have some drinks, forget about my cousin, yeah?”

With a barely veiled huff, Sukuna pushes off the counter as he follows after Toji.

Sitting alongside Toji and Uraume, a haze begins to settle over his mind that finally leaves him more comfortable. His anger dissipates and he eases more casually into conversation with his friends, something he’s needed more than ever before.

Finally, even if only for a night, he can forget.

–

“Shoko, this goes so low,” you whisper as though saying it any louder might proclaim it to the entire world.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” she retorts, grinning at you in the mirror.

“But it’s winter,” you whine, staring in the mirror at the black dress that, admittedly, does hug your curves just right, but god you feel exposed. It’s also not your usual style, and you know exactly what Shoko’s doing and why.

Ever since you mentioned being sick, she’s been on your ass about what Sukuna did, regardless of how adamant you are that he did nothing.

It’s a lie and you haven’t fooled a soul.

Sukuna did hurt you.

Again.

This time, though, there’s a certain trepidation that sits alongside the pang of hurt. Like you’re not quite sure that you’re allowed to feel hurt, so you hide it behind a smile and a lie that Sukuna did nothing wrong.

No amount of stewing over what happened in Sukuna’s bedroom has given you any answers. You’re stuck somewhere in between feeling guilty for ever expecting anything romantic from him and feeling hurt that his best attempt to reach out was a sad ‘feel better’.

Hours of wondering if all you are to him is another warm body in his bed, even though the rational part of you knows it doesn’t make sense when no one knows his reality except you. Hours of wondering if he feels anything towards you at all or if he simply doesn’t care.

Yet your mind clung to one thing, one thin string that seemed to tie to an impossible ideal. Still, you couldn’t push the thought away.

If you really mean nothing to Sukuna, why is he acting weird? Why won’t he reach out properly, hiding behind his brothers? Why hasn’t he completely pushed you away?

If you were nothing more than a babysitter, he wouldn’t bother reaching out, right?

But if you were nothing more than a warm body to him, why hasn’t he pushed you away?

Shoko scoffs, the sound grounding you to the present. “Girl, you know Gojo will let us use his closet for our jackets. That’s your worst excuse yet.” She rolls her eyes, tossing your winter coat at you. “No more complaining, we’re going.”

You cast one more glance at the frilly black dress that barely reaches your knees and follow after Shoko.

The air is warmer than you expect, making your argument even less valid the moment you’re outside. You don’t bother to refute Shoko’s triumphant teasing, even as she mentions all the people you’ll surely attract in that dress.

Your stomach stirs uneasily at the thought.

As the staple at Gojo’s parties that you two are, the frat boy at the entrance shoots you both a kind grin as he lets you through. Why they bother with a bouncer at a party everyone on campus received an invite for is beyond you, but you return the smile regardless.

The thrum of music and thick scent of liquor, weed, and perspiration suffocates your senses as you enter the house. It’s familiar, and you know exactly where Gojo and Geto will be tucked away. Nanami and Haibara headed home practically the moment finals ended.

Making your way past the kitchen and grabbing a cooler, you slip past a game of beer pong and peer out the patio to the backyard. Sure enough, the snow’s been cleared and a massive fire pit is raging in the corner. Geto and Gojo are sitting around the fire alongside a few other frat members you recognize and some women very obviously vying for a place on one of their arms.

“My two favorite ladies!” Satoru calls out as you carefully make your way over the packed snow, trying desperately not to slip in your heels. You wrap your arms around yourself, thankful for the raging fire as you and Shoko take your seats between Satoru and Suguru.

“Why do you wanna sit outside?” You mumble, holding your hands out to the fire.

Suguru chuckles beside you. “I tried to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“It’s warm tonight!” The snowy-haired man insists with an overdramatic pout.

“Just because it’s not freezing doesn’t make it warm, dumbass,” Shoko rolls her eyes, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She offers them to the group, though only Suguru takes one. She leans over you to light it for him, smoke billowing in the air around you.

With a drink in your hand and your friends at your side, conversation comes easily and you all keep close to the fire, stoking it often to keep a steady flame. Eventually, the mix of the flame and the alcohol warms you up and with toasty cheeks, you’re staring at the fire with a steady buzz.

“How do you think your finals went?” Suguru inquires, leaning back in his camping chair.

“Killed it,” you reply confidently, eyes glazed with the thrill of vodka. “I even think I nailed history,” you proudly tell him, straightening your posture with a gleam in your eyes.

“Mmm, would a particular history major have to do with that?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his smooth voice. Your proud stance falters, your cheeks heating up further as you can only offer him a shy smile, too inebriated to defend yourself as your stomach jumps at the mere thought of him. Suguru chuckles. “I see. I’m just teasing, I won’t push like Shoko does.”

“Hey! I’m a great friend,” she narrows her eyes in a playful scowl, though Suguru just grins.

After the busy last month of the semester, not to mention finals, you’re relieved to share warm moments like these with your friends, reveling in the jokes and laughter filling the air around you.

Being able to indulge in partying is a relief too. Although Satoru does it every second or third day, you can’t partake in the same luxuries and still expect to pass. Life isn’t quite as kind to you as it seems to be for the blue-eyed campus royalty. Between your studies and looking after Choso and Yuji, you’ve had your time well-occupied for the past month.

That’s not even beginning to mention the resumes you’ve been editing for some quick cash, on top of your own.

Not that it’ll be enough extra cash to get you home for Christmas. You know your parents tried, but they’re already doing their best to pay for your apartment and day-to-day expenses. At the end of the day, you can’t sacrifice any of your savings for a trip home, as much as you would like to.

You just have to hold onto the fact that you’ll see them once you start working. Most of your friends will go home for Christmas, but that’s okay. Nanami even offered to pay your way home and have you join him and Haibara, but that just didn’t seem fair, as much as you wanted to take him up on his offer.

You’ll enjoy your time video chatting and maybe take some time to visit Satoru and Suguru’s families, who’ve kindly invited you along.

“Deep in thought?”

“Hm?”

Suguru smiles, amused. “Distracted, are we?”

Your cheeks heat up, embarrassed. “Sorry. What were you saying?” You offer him a kind smile.

“I was offering another drink, would you like me to grab you something?” He taps your empty can.

“Oh! Actually, I’ll come with you I think.”

Suguru hums, leading the way back towards Satoru’s kitchen with a much wider gait than your own. “What are you having?”

“Just whatever cooler is fine,” you shrug as he leans down into the fridge. He pulls out a couple of coolers to give you options, returning to the fridge with the can you choose not to take.

Your eyes scan the crowd from the kitchen with a mirthful, albeit dazed expression that falters when you come face-to-face with the one person who’s been a constant in your thoughts for the past week.

He’s hard to miss, towering over the crowd with a head of pink hair and sharp tattoos decorating his features. Your heart pounds in your chest at the mere sight of him. Clearly a week away from him has done your heart no favors.

Sukuna looks good. You’re so accustomed to seeing him exhausted in deep blue coveralls or a big hoodie with wet, disheveled hair and a frown that seeing him with a relaxed smirk, his hair pushed back out of his face and a chain sat around his neck, he looks handsome.

You bite your lip, tearing your gaze away from him to turn back to Suguru. A knowing smirk has found its way onto Suguru’s face and he chuckles. “Go talk to him.”

Of course, he doesn’t know about the strange fissure sitting soundly between you and Sukuna, but you appreciate his encouragement nonetheless. Even if his tone is teasing, he does have a much more genuine way of handling things than Satoru would have.

For a moment, you do consider Suguru’s encouragement, turning back to Sukuna in the corner of the house, but your heart drops as the crowd shifts.

Standing in front of Sukuna is a tall woman with long, blonde hair. You recognize her from the Volleyball team, she’s gorgeous and Sukuna’s leaning down, his lips close to her ear as he blatantly flirts with her. His eyes are lidded and tinged in red, likely both drunk and high, and he chuckles along to something the blonde says.

Blinking a couple of times, you feel your heart sinking, green with envy. You appreciate Suguru’s encouragement, but maybe you should resign yourself to a world where your feelings remain unrequited and you’re just friends with Sukuna. That is, if he even still wants to be around you. He’s so difficult and hard to read and that’s not to mention the fact he hasn’t even attempted to talk about the heated kiss- 

Sukuna’s eyes flicker upwards, meeting yours and stopping. His lidded expression falters, lips pursed. His brow furrows as the woman tugs on his shirt to get his attention and pull him closer, his gaze flickering between her and you.

You tear your gaze from him, turning back to Suguru. With a light touch to his bicep to get his attention as he pours himself something, you force a smile. “I think I’m gonna go find a quiet corner to get some air,” you tell him, slinking away before he can protest. With one final glance back at Sukuna, who’s returned his attention to the blonde, you slip into the crowd.

Pushing through sweaty bodies, the bass and crowd seems to box you in. Your heart is racing too fast, your mind too buzzed, your world too hazy to be trying to handle this many people.

Finding the stairs brings with it a sense of relief, no longer suffocated by the loud music and overwhelming smell of liquor. On the top floor, several of the rooms are shut, telltale signs of couples finding makeshift privacy and you don’t dare peek into any of them. You head straight for Satoru’s room, knowing well that it’ll be locked, and knowing equally well that you have the digital code to get in.

2-3-7-8.

B-E-S-T.

Cocky as ever.

Slipping inside, you shut the door behind you and take a breath as the ringing in your ears gradually begins to mute. Taking a seat on the edge of Gojo’s bed, you let out a long breath. You’ve spent hours on end in this exact spot, watching Satoru and Suguru compete in Super Smash Bros long after you and Shoko had been knocked out.

It doesn’t usually feel so lonely.

Pulling out your phone from within your bra, the only place you could store it, you find yourself doom-scrolling whatever social media has new content. It’s a poor effort to return to the happy state you’d found yourself in only a few minutes ago, and unsurprisingly it doesn’t return.

You’re not sure how long you sit in that spot, but with nothing left to scroll, you get to your feet and pad slowly towards the window, staring out towards the balcony that overlooks the backyard. Flipping the lock, you step out into the chill air, but it hardly seems to touch you, protected by the warmth of liquor in your veins.

You should probably get a coat given that the alcohol won’t really protect you and you’re not close enough to the fire to bask in its heat, but you don’t think you care enough. Not if it means seeing the one person whose presence suffocates you. The crowd is one thing, but Sukuna seems to outweigh every single one of them with just one glance. He crowds your world in a way a group of sweaty unknown college students can’t.

You wonder if maybe you had found him earlier in the night, if maybe you would have had the courage to ask about the kiss. Liquid courage maybe, but courage nonetheless.

You wonder if he would have told you it meant nothing and to move on from him. You wonder if he would have told you to fuck off. If you’re nothing to him.

Yet somehow those don’t seem to scratch the surface of the complicated canyon of emotions that holds you both at arms’ length. Each possibility is too simple.

With a sigh, you cross your arms over the balcony, letting the cold metal raise goosebumps along your skin as you rest your chin on them. Down below, your friends seem like they’re having a good time. Shoko’s attention is on another brunette you recognize from your history class while Satoru and Suguru joke alongside some other frat members.

You long to be a part of that, but you know you would be feigning a smile if you returned.

You shouldn’t be this drunk and this jealous when Sukuna isn’t yours and never has been. Hell, he hasn’t even spoken to you in-person since the kiss.

Maybe you’re this jealous because you’re this drunk.

“Need a jacket?”

You startle at the sound of Sukuna’s voice, a mix of dread, uncertainty, and jealousy raging in your system.

“You scared me,” you murmur, standing upright. Great, just who you want to see.

Sukuna hums. “My bad.” Shutting the balcony door behind him, he takes a couple of steps forward until he’s next to you, though he keeps an uneasy distance between you.

The drop-off between you is so evident it’s almost as though it’s real and physically repelling you from one another. Sukuna shuffles, the silence unbearable to his inebriated mind as he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as the shed in the corner of the yard suddenly becomes of great interest. “Don’t say it like that…” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I didn’t have sex with ‘er.”

You sigh again. The phrasing wasn’t really the point behind your words, but he’s either too drunk, too high, or too focused on the way you took a step away from him to notice. “It’s none of my business, Sukuna.”

He doesn’t know what to say to fix this. You’re talking to him, and that’s a start, but he’s way too far gone to soundly come up with an apology that makes sense, so his mouth just starts running.

“My apartment’s overrun with lizards.”

Even upset, you crack a smile. It’s hard not to at the thought of his little brothers absolutely littering his place in little bead lizards, all because you showed them the trick to the feet.

“The lil’ brat lectured me on the difference between lizards n’ geckos,” he pauses, a noticeable slur to his drunken speech. “Still think they’re pretty much th’same.”

“They’re a species and a subspecies,” you reply monotonously.

Sukuna doesn’t like your tone, devoid of any emotion. He shuffles slightly towards you. You look hot, but Sukuna knows better now than to blindly follow his desires, even in his completely intoxicated state. “Jus’ because you added ‘sub’ t’the word doesn’ make ‘em different.”

You let out a long sigh. “Are we not gonna talk about it, Sukuna?” You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as you turn to face him.

He straightens, pinned in place by your conflicted scowl. Your eyes are glazed, you’re drunk too, and you seem more upset than your emails lead him to believe. Maybe it’s just the alcohol clouding his ability to grasp your expressions.

“‘M sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You echo his apology, a brow quirked.

“Yeah. It was a mistake.”

That hits you like a slap in the face and you purse your lips, staring at the ground as you take one, two steps back from him, with the intention of heading back inside. No, with the intention of going home. 

“Fuck, no, no. Wait.” Sukuna’s jaw hangs ajar as he follows your stride, walking two steps towards you. His tongue runs across his lower lip as he hesitates, brushing a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your throat is tight as you fight back tears. You can’t help but wish you weren’t drunk while having this conversation, then maybe the tears wouldn’t be so quick.

“I-” Sukuna fights with himself, “- I was thinkin’ with the wrong head.”

Right. So he’s doubling down on it being a mistake. You nod slowly, turning away with a sharp intake of breath.

“Wait, shit. Wait. ‘M sorry, I’m way too fuckin’ drunk n’ high n’ shit to be doin’ this right now,” he scrambles with his words, taking another step after you. You stop again, giving him another chance to explain himself. You’ve always been too kind and patient with him.

Grappling with the thoughts running through his mind, he shuts his eyes for a moment with a deeply furrowed brow, red eyes dilating as the light of Gojo’s bedroom behind you illuminates your silhouette. Your dress suits you and frames your curves so well that it’s driving him insane, jumbling his thoughts even further. These thoughts are what got him into this situation to begin with.

“There was so much shit goin’ on n’ I wasn’t thinkin’ straight,” he slurs, red eyes flickering between yours. He can see the hurt in your eyes and he’s far too inebriated to even begin thinking about why it is that you’re so hurt he would refer to the kiss as a mistake. That’s a can of worms he can’t possibly begin to wrap his brain around in this state. “I was jus’... I dunno. I was chasin’ somethin’ I shoudn-” he pauses as his words slur, “- I shouldn’t have.”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. It doesn’t matter how many different ways he words it, at the end of the day it’s clear as mud. It was a mistake. His excuse, though? That’s just pitiful and insulting.

“Do you think I don’t have a lot going on? Do you think that somehow my problems aren’t worth as much just because I don’t have two jobs and kids?” Your words are sharp, and they take a moment to sink in.

“No. Fuck. I jus-” He pauses again, knuckles white as he balls his hands into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching in frustration. He could use a dictionary right about now. Maybe just a whole damn linguist. Hell, he needs someone to read his mind because everything is coming out jumbled and it’s pissing him the fuck off, when all he really wants to say is, “Fuck, I jus’… don’t wan’ the kids to lose ya.” He swallows hard. “I don’t wanna lose ya.”

Your shoulders fall, your defenses crumbling. What? “What?”

Now that he has your attention again, he turns back to the balcony, hunching over it. The cool metal railing lulls his heated skin. Soothes the burning anger with his own inability to process a single thought. Maybe drinking to forget wasn’t his brightest idea.

He says your name quietly. It sounds foreign, vulnerable, when it falls from his lips that way. “I’m losin’ the kids.”

You take a step towards him, tilting your head to get a better view of his face. His expression is solemn, but you’re not sure you understand where he’s going with this. They seemed pretty fond of him when you saw them last week. Choso surely wouldn’t be expressing his worries to you if he didn’t love Sukuna.

“What do you mean?”

“Their fuckin’ mother slapped me with court orders. She’s takin’ ‘em.”

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening. The legal documents. You’d always assumed it was some foolish run-in Sukuna must have had with someone with a bit too much power or money, but never once had you stopped to consider that it could be something like this.

“No, what? You’re gonna fight for them, aren’t you?” You ask, voice strained.

“The hell ‘m I supposed to do?” He barks, turning to face you with a snarl. The look on his face isn’t one of anger, however. It’s distress. “Pull money outta my ass to pay f’r a lawyer?”

You frown. “Maybe you can find a pro-bono attorney?”

Sukuna’s too drunk for this. “Free? That’s free, right?”

You nod.

“The fuck’s a shitty free attorney gonna do? Convince the court that the older brother with two jobs, school, n’ tattoos c’n take better care of two brats than the person who birthed ‘em?”

“Sukuna, come on-”

He doesn’t stop there. “No court’s stupid enough to say no when she pushed ‘em out-”

“Eugh, don’t say that.”

“- that’s not even mentionin’ the fact that she practically shits cash with how much she’s got-”

“Sukuna! Okay, I get it.” You set a hand on his bicep, grounding him as he stares at it. Your touch is searing. He’s not sure if it’s because of the cold, his anger, or something else entirely. He’s not in the state of mind to think about it. His chest heaves as your steady voice speaks so softly to him that it does manage to calm him, even if only a bit. “How much water have you had tonight?”

He huffs. “None.”

“That… makes sense,” you chuckle lightly, shooting him a tired smile. “Why don’t we start there?”

Had one of his friends asked a half hour ago, he would have rolled his eyes and downed the Jack Daniels in his pocket. After his beyond frustrating last few minutes where he couldn’t seem to get a single word out, it doesn’t sound nearly as bad.

“Fine,” he agrees, following after you as you turn to lead the way back to Gojo’s room, only to pause at the door.

“You didn’t lock the door behind you, did you?”

“What? No.” He peers over you, wrinkling his nose at the sight of a couple tangled in one another on Gojo’s bed.

You can only pray he didn’t notice you and Sukuna up on the balcony at all, he’d kill you if he knew what was going on.

“How convenient,” Sukuna deadpans, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he shields you from the couple with his body, ducking through the room as quickly as possible and shutting the door behind him. His grip on your shoulder doesn’t relent as he keeps you close to his body while heading down the stairs, through the crowd and towards the kitchen, shielding you from the sweaty dance floor.

You scramble to keep up with him, needing to move at almost double your walking pace just to keep up with him as he drags you along. Your cheeks are burning and whether that’s from the alcohol or his touch, you’re not sure.

Once you’re in the kitchen, he loosens his grip on your shoulder and watches silently as you move around the cabinets and fridges, filling a glass of water for him.

He hums in acknowledgement, leaning back against the counter. You hop up on the marble beside him, watching as he slowly sips on the water, staring down at the liquid that vibrates with the thump of the bass.

“So,” you begin, pulling his attention back to you. “You don’t wanna lose me, huh?”

Sukuna’s sharp eyes narrow into a glare, but it dissipates as he realizes you aren’t teasing. You’re lucky he’s drunk, because there’s no other circumstance where you would get such a direct answer from him. “No.”

“Is that why you didn’t reach out to talk about it?”

He returns his gaze to the water in his hand, rippling in the glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what t’ say. I overstepped boundaries.”

You sigh, glad he’s found a more eloquent way of putting how he really feels rather than just labelling the whole thing as ‘a mistake’. You wish he started with that, but obviously drunk, high, and in a panic to keep you from walking away, his words failed him. You can accept that he doesn’t see you romantically but values your friendship.

“It’s okay, Sukuna. We… both… overstepped boundaries,” you offer with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s clear that what Sukuna needs right now is a friend, someone to support him and look out for him when he needs it most. You’ll be that for him, even if it means leaving your feelings for him at the door.

His eyes narrow again as he looks at you, irises flickering between your pupils as though he’s trying to make sense of something, but he lets it go to down some water, turning to the sink to refill his glass.

You don’t bring up the kids with people flooding the kitchen around you, keeping the conversation casual. Sukuna points out his friends in the corner at one point, telling you he’ll introduce you when Toji’s not drunk because apparently ‘he’s a prick’. You recognize Uraume’s name from a while ago when they had watched the kids so that Sukuna could be there to get your grade for your project. Sukuna tells you that he thinks you’ll get along well.

It’s gradual, but his speech eventually stops slurring and he joins you on the counter, though his head and shoulder hit the cabinet behind him and he hardly fits.

“Wait- that was today?”

“Mhm. I probably woulda been kicked out if Toji and Atsuya didn’t hold me back.” He flashes you his knuckles that are, as he expected, beginning to bruise.

“Something tells me you say that from experience,” you giggle.

“Somethin’ like that. Last time, it was Toji’s fault, though,” he shrugs, downing more water. You’re both now just comfortably buzzed and Sukuna doesn’t seem nearly as tense as when you were up on the balcony.

“Sounds like I should be glad I’ve never met this Naoya guy.”

“Tch. If you even see that slimebag look at you, head the other way. Guy’s a walking red flag.”

“Noted.” You kick your feet, staring down at your black heels dangling from them. “Oh, by the way, have you ever tried that diner near your place?”

“What diner?” He’s staring down at your feet as well, watching the movement as they gently sway.

“The one like a block over from your apartment, with the blue and pink logo?”

Sukuna stifles a laugh, but it still bubbles up in his chest and he snorts. “That’s a fuckin’ strip club, princess.”

“No it isn’t!” You insist with certainty.

“It’s literally called Strip Joint.” He points out with a smug grin.

“Kuna. They make chicken strips. It’s a joke, they’re a chicken strip joint.”

His lips part in disbelief as he tilts his head to look at you. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m dead serious,” you giggle. “How did you not know?”

“What do you mean ‘how did I not know’? How did you know?” He waves his hand out in the air like it isn’t quite as obvious as it seems. He’s got a point, it absolutely looks the part of a strip club with a dark outside and bright neon sign, but that only makes you laugh harder.

“You know what, now that I think about it, I actually think I know that because Satoru took us there for his birthday and thought it was a strip club,” you ponder the time you first visited, but can’t place if that was your first visit for sure.

“See!” He’s grinning, his cheeks dusted in a shade of red that suits him, just as well as his smirk does. Another one of those rare moments where you think you’re seeing the real Sukuna, even in the midst of everything bogging him down. It’s a good look on him, one that sends your heart soaring. “I’m sure the frat boy loved that.”

“You know, he wasn’t as upset as you would think he’d be,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Sukuna hums, glancing around momentarily. “Can’t believe I live right next to a chicken finger place and the boys don’t know. They’d love that shit.”

Your heart falls, but you do what you can to mask it at the mention of his little brothers. “Let’s check it out.”

“We can do that sometime,” he agrees, yawning.

“No, I mean why don’t we go now?”

Sukuna’s brow arches. “You wanna take my drunk and high ass to a chicken finger shop?”

“I think that makes it funnier, honestly,” you grin, hopping down off the counter. Sukuna contemplates your request for a moment, before dropping down to his feet with a thump.

“Fine,” he huffs, shoving his hands into his jogger pockets as he follows after you. You both pull your jackets from the front coat rack and closet and step back out into the cold. Considerably less drunk than last time you were outside, it’s markedly colder.

Thank god Sukuna’s apartment isn’t too far from campus, unlike yours. You’d had every intention of crashing at Shoko’s overnight, so you’d likely just head back to her place when the night ends if you can get a hold of her.

Heels probably weren’t your greatest call with all the snow, but you manage to keep yourself from slipping by walking slower. It’s a snail’s pace for Sukuna, but as much as he grumbles and gripes about it, he’ll be more than okay.

Jogging up to the door, you pull it open with a shiver and thank every god you can think of that it’s open at one in the morning.

Just as you had said, it’s a diner that specialises in chicken strips, classically decorated in reds to go with the otherwise grayscale diner colors. Off to one side lies a row of red leather booths, while there’s a faded red counter with patches of bare oak where forearms and plates have worn the color from the wood. The lights are dim, with one at the back of the diner flickering softly.

The restaurant is empty aside from one employee and an older man drinking coffee at the counter before her.

“Have a seat wherever, dears.” The kind old employee smiles softly at you, gesturing to the booths. You return her smile, leading Sukuna to a booth in the center of the diner, a couple away from the flickering light.

Sukuna shuffles into the booth, shrugging off his coat and leaning against his bent elbow. He yawns, grunting in thanks when the employee leaves menus before you. He doesn’t look as disinterested as usual, but tired hardly cuts the dark circles lining his eyes.

You peruse the menu for a moment, glancing up at Sukuna. His eyes are skimming the menu, his fingers drumming lightly on the white table lined in metallic silver.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?”

Sukuna’s brow arches. “Chicken.”

“Alright, smartass,” you giggle. “I’m thinking of having ice cream.”

Sukuna’s gaze narrows. “You complained about it being cold the whole way here.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that sound good?”

“Chicken sounds good,” he mumbles.

“You’re just high.”

“You’re just drunk,” he counters, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He shuts the menu after a moment, setting it at the side of the table to get the waitress’ attention. The kind woman rounds the bar and pulls out a small notepad and pen.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the six piece meal,” Sukuna starts, holding his hand out for you to go next.

“I’ll have the chocolate ice cream.”

“You were serious?” Disbelief drips from Sukuna’s tone as he shoots you a look like you’ve gone mad before the waitress can even confirm your orders. You kick his shin lightly under the table and he shuts his mouth with a grimace, muttering a ‘thanks’ when the waitress confirms your orders and heads back to the bar. “You were serious?” He repeats once she’s gone.

“Of course! Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Not really,” he chuckles, still leaning against his palm.

“Well, I think it sounds great.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever the princess wants, she gets.”

You grin at him as your stomach flutters at the nickname, following his gaze outside. The street lamps cast an eerie yellow light over the otherwise still roads, your fresh footprints the only sign of life out there. No cars pass by the side road at such early hours of the morning, the hustle and bustle of city life momentarily paused as most people settle in the warmth of their homes for rest.

“What are you gonna do, Sukuna?”

He yawns, wiping tears from his eyes. “‘Bout what?”

“The kids.”

“Mm.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. It’s a bit short for him and he has to slump down for any amount of back support. “Dunno. Not sure I can do much.”

“What about the pro-bono idea?”

“Maybe,” he hums, a little more level-headed as you inquire this time around. “I don’t think some free attorney off the streets is gonna do many favors against whatever expensive asshole their mom’s payin’ for, though.”

“Maybe, but you never know. It’s better than self-defense,” you shrug.

“Unless I find Daredevil on the streets, I get the feelin’ it won’t really matter.” The defeat hanging around him like a spectre seems to weigh heavily on him as he stares out the window.

“You can’t just give up.”

He throws his hands up in frustration, though he’s too tired to back it up with words. He supposes you can take that however you’d like, he’s not about to fight with you about this, not when this lawsuit almost cost your friendship all because his dumbass step-mother chose to deliver the legal papers at the most inconvenient time.

“They need you, Kuna. Where’s their mom been all this time, anyway?” Your brow furrows at the thought. Why does Sukuna have his brothers if their mom’s still around?

“Dunno. Overseas or some shit. She took a high-paying position and our dad refused to move us with her. When he passed, I tried to get a hold of anyone on her side of the family. Not a single word. Even the lawyers couldn’t reach any of ‘em.” He shrugs, reaching up to scratch his jaw as his gaze remains fixed out the window.

“Huh. What about your mom?”

Either Sukuna’s feeling kind today, or he’s too tired to fight your nosiness. Whatever it is, he shrugs again in reply. “Dunno about her either. I was an accident. My dad was nineteen when they had me, she signed me away the moment I was born.”

You suppose his statement from the other night about his father ‘knowing how to pick them’ makes more sense with this context. It seemed neither woman had done any of his sons any favors.

“I’m sorry, Sukuna.” “It’s whatever,” he mutters through a yawn.

“Hey, what about the law students or professors?”

He tilts his head, leaning over the table on both of his forearms. “What about them?”

“Have you spoken to them?”

“No. I dunno any of ‘em and I’m not about to get anyone involved.”

“Don’t you think it’s worth it? For Yuji and Choso?”

Sukuna parts his lips to reply, pausing momentarily when your ice cream and his chicken arrive. You both quietly thank the waitress before he continues. “‘Course, but I’m not gettin’ my hopes up.”

You frown, spooning some ice cream into your mouth. After your first bite, you chew on your lip in thought. “Would you consider talking to a law student? I know you would need to tell them what’s going on and that isn’t what you want, but…” You trail off, not really sure there’s a sound ‘but’ behind your insistence on helping him.

He sighs, finishing a chicken strip in only a couple of bites. “You think it’s worth it?”

You nod, swallowing another bite of ice cream. “I just know if I were in your position, I would be trying everything. I couldn’t possibly let go of them.”

Sukuna’s heart twists and he runs a hand through his hair. There it is again, that uncomfortable sensation of being outside of his own body as panic grips him. It’s the same feeling from when you mentioned him being their hero. It’s like you’ve dropped something on him that he doesn’t quite know how to handle.

He stares down at his plates, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“Sukuna?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, strained. He subconsciously slides his foot out until he finds yours, as though he’s seeking your presence for comfort again like the night spent in his room. You set your spoon down, watching as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

You open your mouth to voice your concern, but he interrupts before you can.

“You know one? A law student?”

You chew on your lip briefly, taking in his distant expression. As though being high, buzzed on alcohol, tired, and mildly hungover isn’t all enough for one person, now he also hardly seems present.

“I don’t, but one of Kento’s friends is in the program.”

“Great,” Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes as he jabs his chicken a little bit too harshly in plum sauce. “My biggest fan.” You knock his foot beside you, which seems to bring him back to the present somewhat.

“You know, I think if you explain to him what’s going on, he might not be so cold to you.”

The pink-haired man makes a show out of his disdain for including Kento with a dramatic groan. “If it makes it easier with the law student, then sure, but,” he pauses, shooting you a glance, “I choose what I share.”

You pick up your spoon again, shoveling more ice cream into your mouth. “I wouldn’t share any of your secrets. Kento doesn’t know about your brothers.”

He doesn’t doubt that’s true, otherwise he thinks he may have garnered just a little bit more sympathy from the blonde. He’s fairly sure the only reason he’s still just barely on Shoko’s good side is the fact that she knows he’s taking care of two snot-nosed brats.

He mutters out a barely audible thanks before focusing on his food. Even as he eats, he’s running out of steam, just barely managing to stay awake as comfortable silence hangs between you. It’s a stark contrast from a few hours ago, the rift patched and stitched with a nice little bow to top it all off and for that he’s beyond grateful.

“Do you wanna try some?” You hold out your spoon as he sets his plate aside, wiped clean.

He reaches out, taking the spoon and popping it in his mouth. “That’s pretty good. I thought it was just Breyers or some shit.”

You shake your head, staring down at the couple of remaining scoops. “I think it’s made in-house.”

He hums in agreement, leaning over the table with a yawn and you get the feeling it’s time to go home. Waving the waitress over, you request the bills with a polite smile.

“Together or separate?” She inquires with a kind smile in return.

“Together.”

“Separate.”

“Together,” Sukuna doubles down, pulling out his wallet.

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs at the question. “You got one ice cream, I think I’ll manage.”

Giving in, you nod at the waitress.

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Mm,” he hums as he pulls out his credit card, paying quickly before sliding out of the booth and throwing his coat on. You follow suit, thanking the waitress and heading back out into the cold.

“You promise you’re okay with me reaching out to Kento about this? It probably won’t be until after Christmas, he’s back in our hometown with family,” you explain.

“It’s fine. Worth a shot, right?”

You smile at his willingness to work with you. He’s shown you an awful lot of vulnerability all night, and you appreciate his honesty, even if there’s still a pang of disappointment that your feelings for him aren’t mutual.

“You need me to walk you back to the frat house?”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought. You really don’t want to stay there if you don’t have to, and your buzz has completely faded. You have no desire to return to the party, which you would need to do if you wanted to crash with Shoko. “That’s alright, I think I’ll head home.”

Sukuna rolls his shoulders backwards, fighting a yawn. “Uber? Busses aren’t running this late.”

“Yeah, I’ll get one now.”

“I’m comin’ with you.”

“Sukuna, you’ve been yawning for the better part of the last two hours. You look like you’re ready to pass out,” you point out, reaching forward to poke him in a similar fashion to back when you first met his brothers and teasingly shoved him to prove a point.

Marginally more awake than your first encounter with his brothers, Sukuna grabs your wrist before you can poke him. “Nice try, princess. It’s two in the morning, I just wanna make sure you make it home. I’ll walk back after.”

Your heart should not be soaring like it is right now given the fact that he openly admitted to you that he overstepped boundaries, but you can’t help the way it races. “Okay,” you smile meekly, waiting alongside him for the car you hailed to pull up.

The ride is an odd one as Sukuna struggles to stay awake while the driver recounts his night, but his presence is comforting in what would otherwise be an awkward ride.

Arriving back at your apartment, you open the app and add a secondary destination, keying in Sukuna’s apartment. He sluggishly goes to get out but you dash around the car as best as you can in your heels to block him.

“Thanks for getting me home, now I’m getting you home.”

He’s too drained to start something with you for being too kind when he could just walk home, returning to his seat with resignation and a mildly contemptful expression.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, though he’s internally much more grateful than he’d have you believe.

“Text- uh- email me when you get home.”

He blows air from his nose, amused. “Yeah. Night, princess.”

“Goodnight, Kuna.”

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; i hope you guys enjoyed the chicken strip conversation as much as i did, maybe i'm just tired but i though it was toooo cute something about writing sukuna fumbling through his day-to-day life is so enjoyable, this poor poor man. i love him sm 😭 as always, thank you for reading and a huge shoutout to each and every one of you who's interacted with my posts, you guys seriously make my day and are a big part of the reason i'm having so much fun sharing this story with you all. thank you all <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @kasukuna @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @coldluminarykoala

@ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears

@tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts

@lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811

@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

@axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

if your handle is on this list but you have not been tagged, please check your settings.

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Didn't expect me to write more about Sol, did you? Honestly, I needed to do more research into his character, after all, since I kinda ignored him in the game as soon as Crowe showed up. Like, no wonder he did what he thought he had to do.  

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet. I'm still learning about the BDSM community, and honestly, it's been really eye-opening.

A close friend (college roommate: adding on the fact she adores Sol—Sorry not sorry, love) of mine has been super helpful, sharing and explaining things about the BDSM scene to add more depth to my writing.

A lot of my inspiration comes from her, along with the Tumblr fanfic community and the original creator's work. I try to blend what feels true to the characters while throwing in my own twist. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences! 

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache. You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His head teases your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want. Can’t do anything unless you say it. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing lightly as if testing the waters. 

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His grin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears on your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb, slick with your tears, slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Every tender smile, every soft whisper... and every shadowed obsession that came with it. 

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[ellecdc]

Matched

Finnick Odair x fem!victor!reader who are constantly introduced to each other [1.2k words]

CW: people trying to introduce Finnick and reader, Capitol behaviours (body modification, eating-purging-eating, no sense of propriety), fluff, a surprise

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

There would be people dressed to varying levels of near insanity. There would be people literally eating until they were sick, then forcing themselves to be sick so that they could continue eating. There would be people approaching you, asking you questions, and running their hands over your clothes or hair or jewelry or body as though having seen the most traumatic moments of your life aired on TV from the safety of their homes made you friends.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

“There you are, darling!” A rather reptilian looking woman you knew to go by Komoda greeted you as she approached; arm aggressively interlocked with another’s who didn’t appear to be all that willing to be there. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

You plastered on your show time smile and offered your hand to Capitol Darling Finnick Odair who accepted it readily, bowing his head slightly as he met your gaze.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“It always is in the Capitol.” You volleyed, smiling back over to the Capitol citizen who seemed very excited to be seeing two of her favourite victors intermingling. “Finnick and I have met a few times, actually.”

Komoda seemed rather bemused at the fact that the two of you had met and not immediately jumped each other's bones. “Oh… oh! Really?”

You hummed in the affirmative.

“Every year when we mentor new tributes.” Finnick explained.

Komoda tried to laugh. “Well, I just think that the two of you would get on rather well.”

“We get on fine.” You continued, feigning ignorance.

“The two of you would make a very handsome couple!” One of her friend’s chimed in, earning him nods of approval from the quickly forming group of spectators.

“Well, looks aren’t everything, are they?” You tried, and a few of the more…altered individuals seemed rather perplexed at the thought. “The two of us might not have anything in common.”

“That’s very true.” Finnick agreed. “Let’s see; how do you feel about the beach?”

“Too much sand; I’m shaking it out of everything I own for far too long afterwards. What’s your favourite pastime?”

“Swimming.” He answered.

“I never learned how.” You continued with pursed lips. “Least favourite season?”

“Winter. What’s your favourite holiday?”

“Christmas.”

Finnick hummed in displeasure before continuing. “Favourite animal?”

“Cats. Yours?”

“Dogs.”

You hummed in displeasure. “How do you feel about white chocolate?”

“Love it.” He replied easily; you scrunched your nose at him before he carried on. “What’s a dealbreaker for you?”

“People who like white chocolate.”

He pressed his lips into a flat line and nodded his head in understanding. “Very fair.”

You looked back over at Komoda and her friends to see them all gaping at the two of you.

“Sorry to disappoint, folks.” Finnick apologized with a shrug of his shoulder. “It’s apparently just not meant to be.”

“But…” Komoda started, looking rather crestfallen. “I…I was so sure!”

“You’re not the first to try to set us up.” You placated, placing a gentle hand over the scale-like jewels on the shoulder of her gown. “You probably won’t be the last, either.”

“Maybe the 29th time will be the charm, hm?” Finnick offered you with a wink, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t hold your breath, Odair.”

“I can hold my breath for a very long time, sweetheart; I’m a world class swimmer, afterall.”

“Oh, you’re something alright.” You laughed as you turned to walk away, deciding then to begin your rounds of goodbyes before heading back to your suite.

You held the towel to your face for a few seconds, just taking a moment to breathe and enjoy the quiet, warmth, and serenity of your post-party ritual.

You were just about to pull the towel away when you felt gentle hands slide around your waist before you were being embraced between two strong arms.

“Long night?” He murmured into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it.

You hummed in agreement and pulled the towel away from your face, smiling at Finnick in the reflection of the mirror.

“It always is in the Capitol.” You replied.

He offered you a knowing smile before pressing another kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you.” He said before reaching around you to grab some makeup wipes to begin removing the work his own stylists put into his appearance tonight. “Anything interesting happen?”

You hummed noncommittally as you smoothed cream over your skin. “Not really. Someone tried setting me up with this guy again.”

“Really?” Finnick asked, feigning intrigue. “Was it a match made in heaven?”

You made a so-so sound. “He was pretty cute,” you allowed, “but I don’t know if it would work.”

“No?”

“No. I mean, for one, he didn’t start drooling the second he saw me. Huge red flag I think.”

With that, Finnick theatrically slammed his hand down on the countertop and levelled you with a disbelieving look. “You mean to tell me that he didn’t immediately fall to his knees in worship?”

“No!”

Finnick shook his head; simply aghast. “You can do so much better, honey.”

Your smile turned soft as you watched him lather some of his face wash between his hands before bringing them to his face. “I think so too.”

By the time he was done with washing his face, you were sitting on the counter with Finnick standing between your legs as you massaged some moisturizer into his skin.

“They don’t know what you deserve anyway.” Finnick states suddenly.

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Who doesn’t?”

“The Capitol people; they don’t know what kind of partner you deserve.”

You stayed quiet as you finished working the product into his skin, pressing a kiss to his lips to alert him to the fact that you were finished. You felt rather shy when he opened his eyes and you found yourself pinned beneath his sea green gaze.

“They’d be sorely mistaken if they thought Capitol Darling Finnick Odair was all you deserved.”

You smiled softly at him before pressing another softer, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’m rather fond of this Finnick Odair.”

You relished in the slight pink dusting of his cheeks as his smile grew wider before he pulled you in, cradling you to his chest.

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

It would take your stylists three hours to prep you for the party. It would take you forty minutes to disassemble yourself after the party. The outfits and jewelry you wore would cost more than most District families saw in years.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

The best part was that no one knew you and Finnick Odair have actually been dating behind closed doors for four years now.

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summery: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @hannahisnotblue @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[scoupsakakitty]

More than Friends | idol!Scoups x reader | angst,fluff

The dorm buzzed with energy, laughter bouncing off the walls as the members sprawled across couches and bean bags, arguing about what movie to watch next. Y/N sat cross-legged on the carpet, her back leaning against the edge of the couch, where Seungcheol lounged comfortably.

He was laughing at something Wonwoo said, his head tipped back, eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that made Y/N’s heart skip. She quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the half-empty bowl of popcorn in her lap.

It wasn’t the first time she’d caught herself staring. And if Jeonghan’s knowing glances were anything to go by, it definitely wasn’t the first time someone else had noticed.

“Are you seriously just going to keep sitting there and pretending like you’re not in love with him?” Jeonghan’s voice was low as he leaned closer.

Y/N stiffened. “Would you keep your voice down?”

Jeonghan smirked. “They’re too busy arguing about movies to hear me.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N.” Jeonghan’s voice softened, and she hated how easily he could see right through her. “You need to tell him.”

She shook her head, pretending to be more interested in the popcorn than the way Seungcheol’s laugh sent butterflies through her stomach. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“No, it’s not,” she whispered sharply. “We’ve been friends for over ten years, Jeonghan. What if I tell him and it ruins everything? What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jeonghan gave her a look. “You don’t know that.”

But she did. Or at least she thought she did.

Before Jeonghan could press further, Seungkwan’s voice cut through the noise.

“Y/N, how do you even put up with Cheol all the time? Ten years? I’d lose my mind.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “We’re used to each other by now.”

“That’s not an answer,” Seungkwan teased.

Seungcheol leaned back, smirking. “She’s stuck with me, that’s why. We’re basically unbreakable.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said quickly, ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks. “He’s my best friend.”

Her heart sank the moment the words left her mouth.

Seungcheol grinned, completely unfazed. “See? Best friends.”

The words shouldn’t have hurt, but they did. And judging by the way Jeonghan’s gaze flickered toward her, he knew it too.

She tried to laugh along with the others, but something inside her shifted.

Maybe it was time to move on.

————————————————————————————-

Two weeks later, Y/N was seeing someone new.

His name was Minho. He worked in event planning, and he was charming, funny, and most importantly interested in her. When he’d asked her out, it felt like the universe giving her a push, so she said yes.

It was easy at first. Minho made her laugh and distracted her from the ache in her chest whenever she thought about Seungcheol.

But the more time she spent with Minho, the less time she had for Seungcheol.

And Seungcheol noticed.

“Where’s Y/N?”

It was the third time Seungcheol had asked that question in a week, and Jeonghan was starting to lose patience.

“She’s busy,” Jeonghan said, not even looking up from his phone. “Probably with Minho.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tensed.

“What’s so great about him anyway?”

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him to know he’s not right for her.”

Jeonghan finally looked up, his expression carefully neutral. “And what makes you think that?”

Seungcheol hesitated, but before he could answer, Mingyu snickered from across the room.

“Dude, just admit it. You’re jealous.”

Seungcheol glared at him. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure,” Vernon muttered under his breath.

“I’m not!”

Jeonghan set his phone down and crossed his arms. “Okay, then what’s the problem?”

Seungcheol opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t know how to explain it. All he knew was that every time he saw Y/N with Minho, something inside him twisted painfully, and it wouldn’t go away.

“You’re all acting like this is normal,” he snapped, shoving himself off the couch. “But it’s not. She barely knows him, and now she’s acting like—like he’s more important than everything else.”

“Like he’s more important than you?” Jeonghan asked quietly.

Seungcheol froze.

“Cheol,” Joshua said, his voice softer now, “you need to figure out why this is bothering you so much.”

Seungcheol didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

————————————————————————————-

The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the storm in his chest.

What was wrong with him?

Why did it feel like his entire world was falling apart just because Y/N was dating someone?

He paced back and forth, his hands clenched into fists as he tried to make sense of the mess in his head.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to see Jeonghan standing behind him, hands in his pockets and an annoyingly calm expression on his face.

“What?” Seungcheol snapped.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

Jeonghan stepped closer. “You’re an idiot,” he repeated. “And you know why? Because you’re acting like you have some kind of right to be mad at her when you’re the one who’s been too scared to do anything about your feelings.”

Seungcheol flinched.

“You love her.” Jeonghan’s words hit him like a punch. “And instead of telling her that, you’ve spent years pretending you don’t. Now she’s finally trying to move on, and you’re mad? That’s not fair, Cheol.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.

Because Jeonghan was right.

He loved her.

And he’d been too blind or too scared to admit it.

“She loved you first, you know,” Jeonghan said quietly. “She’s loved you for years. But you kept pushing her away without even realizing it. So don’t stand here acting like she betrayed you when you’re the one who let her slip through your fingers.”

Seungcheol felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Fix it,” Jeonghan said, turning to walk away. “Before it’s too late.”

————————————————————————————-

Seungcheol didn’t sleep that night. He spent hours replaying every moment, every look, every touch—and suddenly, it all made sense.

The way she’d always been there for him. The way her smile softened when she looked at him. The way she laughed at his dumb jokes even when no one else did.

She loved him.

And he loved her too.

Now he just had to make sure she knew it.

————————————————————————————-

The practice room was loud, the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the floor and beats thumping through the speakers filling the space. But Seungcheol wasn’t paying attention.

His movements were sharp, almost aggressive as he led the group through their choreography, pushing harder than usual. He needed the distraction. He needed to drown out the thoughts that had been chasing him since his conversation with Jeonghan the night before.

She loved him. She’d always loved him.

And he’d been too scared to see it.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Seungkwan’s voice snapped him out of his daze.

“What?”

“You’ve been off all morning,” Seungkwan said. “And honestly, you kind of look like you’re about to punch someone.”

Seungcheol exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m fine.”

But then Mingyu’s voice rang out from across the room.

“Guys, did you hear? Y/N’s going on vacation!”

Seungcheol froze.

“With Minho,” Mingyu added, oblivious to the way Seungcheol’s entire body tensed. “Apparently it’s super last minute. She told me this morning.”

“What?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp enough to make everyone stop and stare.

“She and Minho are flying out tomorrow,” Mingyu said. “Some beach resort or something.”

The room went completely silent as eleven pairs of eyes turned to Seungcheol, who looked like he’d just been punched in the gut.

Then chaos erupted.

“WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?!” Seungkwan shouted.

“GO TO HER!” Vernon added, shoving Seungcheol toward the door.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

Jeonghan didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms and gave Seungcheol a look that said, You know what you have to do.

Seungcheol didn’t need to be told twice.

————————————————————————————-

His heart felt like it was going to explode as he stood outside her apartment door, his fist hovering just inches away from knocking.

What if he was too late?

What if she’d already left?

What if—

The door opened.

“Seungcheol?” Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She was dressed casually shorts and an oversized t-shirt but there was a suitcase by the door, and the sight of it made his stomach drop.

“You’re really leaving?”

She blinked. “What?”

“With Minho. Tomorrow.”

Her brows furrowed. “How did you—”

“Mingyu told me,” he cut in.

She sighed, stepping back to let him in. “It’s not a big deal, Cheol. It’s just a trip.”

“It is a big deal,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You’re leaving with him. And I can’t—” He stopped, raking a hand through his hair. “I can’t let you do this.”

She stared at him, confused and a little defensive. “What do you mean you can’t let me? It’s my life, Seungcheol. I don’t need your permission.”

“That’s not what I meant!” he snapped.

“Then what did you mean?”

He took a shaky breath, his chest tightening. “I mean… I can’t watch you walk away. Not like this. Not with him.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“I hate it, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “I hate seeing you with him. I hate that he gets to have your time, your attention, when I’ve had it for years, and I was too stupid to realize what it meant.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it made his heart ache even more.

“Why are you doing this now, Seungcheol?” she whispered.

“Because I can’t lose you.”

“You already did,” she said, her voice trembling. “When you called me your best friend. When you made it so clear that that’s all we’d ever be. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

He stepped closer. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of ruining what we had.” He reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “Of losing you if I messed this up. But now I realize I’m losing you anyway, and it’s killing me.”

Her tears spilled over, and Seungcheol gently cupped her face.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it scares me. And I know I don’t deserve you after everything I’ve put you through, but please—please don’t go.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, he thought she was going to pull away. But then she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

“You’re such an idiot,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“I know.”

“You hurt me so much.”

“I know,” he said again, holding her tighter. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “What if this doesn’t work? What if we ruin everything?”

“It won’t,” he promised. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

She searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was sincerity and love.

So she kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant, but then it deepened, and all the tension that had been building between them for years melted away.

When they finally pulled apart, Seungcheol rested his forehead against hers, smiling.

“Cancel the trip.”

“I already did,” she admitted, and he laughed softly, kissing her again.

————————————————————————————-

The next day, Seungcheol walked into the practice room with Y/N’s hand in his, and the members erupted into cheers.

“About time!” Seungkwan yelled.

“Finally!” Mingyu added, throwing his arms in the air.

Jeonghan just smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Told you.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at Y/N.

It had taken them years to get here.

But it was worth every second.

————————————————————————————

[imsobadatnicknames2]

@zotesaintofrenown @cannibalcaprine

Gleeblor is a word OP coined to refer to any statement about ttrpg game design or play culture that is perfectly self-evident (often to the point of not even being worthy of an explanation) for people who are broadly familiar with ttrpgs as a medium, but that people whose knowledge of and experience with the medium is exclusively limited to D&D 5e treat like you're talking crazy incomprehensible nonsense at them.

This is the post that originated it, where OP likens the experience of making a post about something that seems completely self-evident and having 5e fans show up to act baffled by it to the experience of being an alien trying to explain alien concepts like "gleeblor" to a human being.

This post was, in turn, made in reference to a different post by tenleaguesbeneath which i think is a perfect example of gleeblor, where they complained about the concept of Challenge Rating in modern D&D because the existence of a mechanically codified way to balance encounters around party level in turn codifies the assumption that most or all potentially hostile groups of creatures that the PC party encounters during the game must be balanced so that the PCs can win against them in a fight with very little to no risk of any deaths on the PC side (the way they put it, the existence of CR makes it so that you might as well replace the "habitat" entry for every creature in the Monster Manual with "a fight to the death with the player characters, which it is supposed to lose")

To be clear, this assumption is not universal to TTRPGs, it's not even universal to D&D! In pre-WotC editions of D&D there was no mechanically codified way to balance encounters around party level, and instead the assumption was that the GM would populate their adventure with whatever creatures they thought made sense for the environment, and it was up to players to be on the lookout for any encounters they probably have no chance at beating in a straight fight, and exercise their player agency to either avoid them, resolve them peacefully, find some sort of tactical advantage to give themselves better odds, or even just flee mid-fight.

The notes were full of responses by 5e-only players completely failing to grasp that what OP of that post was saying was that they disliked CR because they disliked the expectation in modern D&D that encounters must be balanced so that PCs can fight and defeat anything they come across, and instead interpreting it as OP saying that they disliked CR because it was a bad tool for creating balanced encounters, leading them to leave responses like "I agree! CR sucks at balancing encounters, here's how to fix it" or "Okay I get that CR sucks but how are you supposed to balance encounters instead?", because the assumptions that modern D&D makes about the concept of Encounters were so deeply ingrained in their way of thinking that they didn't understand that "having balanced encounters" is not a thing that is universally required, desirable, or even compatible with all RPGs. Participating in that discussion was what motivated OP of this post to make her gleeblor post and eventually coin the word gleeblor.

One of the funnier manifestations of gleeblor is Pathfinder players: I'll make a post about how D&D will color people's expectations of what RPGs can be like and create a very narrow set of expectations about the medium, and inevitably some Pathfinder player will be like "haha yeah those D&D players should really broaden their horizons, Pathfinder fixes all of their issues," and my friend. I'm sorry to say this but you are not immune to gleeblor and in many regards where it comes to expectations of playstyle created by the game, your favorite game is in fact just another company copying D&D's homework and slightly altering the wording.

[cutielando]

christmas dinner | m.v.

synopsis: in which you finally introduce your boyfriend to your family

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Christmas Eve was always a big deal in your family.

The warm glow of string lights decorated every corner of your tía’s house, the smell of tamales and roasted pork filled the air, and the unmistakable sound of your cousins arguing over whose turn it was to bring the drinks echoed from the kitchen.

It was tradition. Chaotic and loving, but it was tradition.

But this year, you were dreading it.

You could already hear the teasing that awaited you. “Still no boyfriend, mija?” your tía would ask with a sly smile. “You’re not getting any younger, you know”. Your cousins would make exaggerated joked about you ending up alone with a dozen cats.

What they didn’t know, however, was that this years things were different. You did have someone. Someone who wasn’t just “some guy”.

You had kept the relationship pretty quiet, out of desire for privacy for one, but also because you didn’t know how you could possibly explain to your close-knit family that you were dating Max Verstappen, four-time Formula 1 World Champion.

You’d been dating Max for almost an entire year. The two of you had met through a mutual friend while you were traveling in Europe.

Despite coming from completely different worlds, the two of you clicked instantly. He loved your sharp sense of humor and the way you always spoke your mind, while you admired his drive and his ability to stay grounded despite the whirlwind of fame surrounding him.

Max had heard plenty of stories about your family and how much they would tease you for not having a boyfriend, so when you mentioned the Christmas gathering, he’d insisted on coming with you.

“I’m not letting you face them alone” he had said with a mischievous smile. “Besides, I’m curious to meet the people who raised someone as fierce as you”

Now, as you both pulled up to your tía’s house, your nerves were in overdrive.

Max looked effortlessly cool in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, carrying a carefully chose bottle of wine in one hand and a plate of stroopwafels in the other.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” you asked, glancing at him nervously.

“I’ve faced media scrums and wheel-to-wheel battles at 300 kilometers an hour. I think I can handle your family” he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling.

“We’ll see about that” you muttered as you rang the doorbell.

The door swung open immediately, and there was your tía, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“Mija! Finally! We thought you’d never-“ her words trailed off as she noticed Max standing beside you, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Tía, this is Max, my boyfriend” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

The words hung in the air for a moment before your tía broke into a beaming smile.

“Ah, tan guapo! Come in, come in!” she ushered you both inside, calling out to the rest of the family. “Todos! Look who’s here!”

As you stepped into the living room, the reactions were immediate.

Your aunts and uncles looked Max up and down, their expressions a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Your cousins, however, froze, their mouths dropping open in unison.

“No way, that’s Max Verstappen” your cousin Diego whispered, his eyes darting between you and Max.

“The Max Verstappen?” chimed in your cousin Sofia, clutching her drink like she needed it to stay upright.

Max, ever the professional, extended a hand with a polite smile.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Y/N had told me a lot about you” he said.

The room erupted into complete chaos.

Diego and Sofia launched into rapid-fire questions about the races, his car, and his most intense battles on track, while your uncles exchanged confused glances, muttering “Quién es éste? Un deportista?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver” Diego explained, exasperated. “He’s a four-time World Champion. He’s, like, the best in the whole world.

Your tío, Miguel, raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“World champion, eh? Can he fix a car?” he asked.

Max chuckled, taking the teasing in stride.

“Not as well as your niece can” he said smoothly, earning a round of laughter from everyone but Miguel, who grunted in grudging approval.

Meanwhile, your cousins were still buzzing with excitement.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Max Verstappen” Sofia said, pulling you aside. “How did this even happen?”

You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips.

“We met through some mutual friends. He’s just…Max. He’s not that different from anyone else, you know” you said, your eyes twinkling at the thought of Max.

Sofia gave you a look that said she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t push any further.

As the night went on, Max charmed everyone in the room. He laughed at your uncle’s jokes, complimented your abuela’s cooking, and even joined in a spirited game of Lotería, picking up the rules quickly with your help.

By the time dessert rolled around, he was no longer just “your boyfriend”, he was Max, part of your family.

“You did good, mija. He’s a keeper” your tía whispered to you as you passed by with a tray of flan.

You glanced across the room to where Max was laughing with your cousins, holding up a Lotería card triumphantly.

He caught your eye and gave you a wink, making your heart swell with love.

For the first time in years, you weren’t dreading the next family gathering anymore.

In fact, you couldn’t wait to bring Max to the next one.

And the next one, and the next one…

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ we listen and we don't judge ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, mentions of drinking/being drunk and sex)

You and fratboy!Jaehyun sat side by side at the dining table in the kitchen on the frathouse. You had a sticky note beside you so you knew what you were going to say while Jaehyun scrolled through his notes app. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, "no judging right?"

"I promise baby, unless you confess to something absolutely crazy," you laugh softly, setting your phone up against a cup.

You hit the record button and nod at Jaehyun before you both recite, "we listen and we don't judge."

You look at your note and laugh softly, "sometimes I tell you I have to study but in reality I don't want to spend the night because I know you haven't washed your sheets."

Jaehyun's jaw drops, "I wash them every two weeks!"

"Now you do! But sometimes you also sleep in your sheets right after the gym and they smell," you confess softly.

Jaehyun sighs before you both repeat, "we listen and we don't judge."

"Sometimes when I wake up after you or go to bed after you, I use your skincare stuff because it makes my skin feel nice," Jaeyhun tells you.

You laugh, caressing his cheek lovingly, "you know, I have noticed a nice glow to your skin."

"We listen and we don't judge."

You draw your hand back and drag it down your face with a soft groan, "no judging, but when I first saw you for the first time in the library, I saw Taeyong and I thought he was cuter than you."

Jaehyun's face falls, "you don't still think that do you?"

"No! I'm with you because I love you! But he just looked so cute in the library with his beanie and his hood was on. Cute like a baby or something," you reassure with a gentle hand on his forearm.

"We listen and we don't judge," you both recite in unison.

"Sometimes when you drink too much at a party and you ask me if you did anything bad the next day, I lie and tell you no because I don't want you to be embarrassed," Jaehyun tells you slowly, almost reluctantly.

"How bad are we talking?" You ask nervously, biting your bottom lip.

"Dancing on tables and chasing Mark around the house to kiss his cheek," Jaehyun replies.

"That's not too bad," You shrug. Jaehyun eyes the camera with a nervous smile.

"We listen and we don't judge."

You giggle as you read your next confession, "sometimes when your room gets too messy, I ask Taeyong and Johnny to do random room checks so you can clean your room."

"Now that I think about it, the checks have increased since we started dating," Jaehyun teases, "we listen and we don't judge. I've paid Ari to be out of your dorm for the night so we can have sex."

"Jaehyun!" You exclaim, clapping your hands over your mouth, "how many times? How much do you give her? Why?!"

"Sometimes it's fast food, sometimes it's 20 bucks, other times it's just getting one of the guys to help her with homework, she tells me her price. I do it like once a month so we can have alone time, like actually alone, not alone with 10 other guys in the house," Jaehyun explains with a playful waggle of his brow.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"Oh, you're not going to like this one," you giggle, "but sometimes when you ask me to clean up your brows and you start moving or complaining too much about how it hurts, I start getting rough and pinching you on purpose because you're annoying."

"But it actually hurts me!" Jaehyun retorts.

"It's not even that bad! You're just a baby."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"I have a tattoo that Yuta gave me when we were both drunk that you've never seen," Jaehyun rushes out. It's almost too quick that you don't catch it, but you do.

"Oh, I've seen it," you admit with a chuckle.

"You have?! When? What is it?" Jaehyun asks in shock.

"Baby, you like to take off your clothes when you drink too much. It's on your upper thigh, it's a-" You begin to explain before whispering the rest in his ear, "it's Pickle Rick from Rick and Morty."

Jaehyun's face flushes with embarrassment, "it doesn't give you the ick?"

"No, it does. That's why I let you get away with covering it with bandaids all the time."

Jaehyun hunches forward, rubbing his hands down his face, "I think we're done here."

You rub a hand across his back calmingly, "I still love you."

"Thank goodness for that!"

[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

[nsharks]

pls give us some blurb😔 I'm so sad today😔😔😔

Here is my revised preview for the next part!

B

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit against her chest, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring," Ari says with a chuckle. "Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses."

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself. 

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too. 

The pond water is cool to the touch. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear. 

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet curls. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead." 

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she nods. "I know... I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

She quickly recovers. "Yeah, of course. Ghost told me all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't doing it in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. She is pretty. And she has actual boobs. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top.

Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm still a little bit scared of a/b/o (LOL 🤣), but I am really excited to read this fic, because I LOVE fated mates/soulmates, and I'm also getting a little bit of forced proximity and grumpy/sunshine and I LIVE AND BREATHE GRUMPY/SUNSHINE 😂😊

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

The physical description of Dean is SO good. The use of "stern" and "stubborn" as descriptors fits well for Dean.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

Oh suuuurrrreeee keep telling yourself that Dean.

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

So what you're saying is... she's trapped in a cabin, she's got a broken ankle, in the middle of a snowstorm with no way out and no communications, with a ruggedly hot mountain man with gorgeous green eyes, a gruff exterior, and a mysterious past... Sign👏🏻 Me👏🏻 Up

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

So ready for Dean to just obliterate all her other experiences with total jerks.

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

I live for the after a nightmare comfort trope (if it is a trope? 🧐) and I am SO happy you put this in. Oh my goodness it was so sweet of him to come check on her, and for you to give us a little bit of insight inside of Dean's POV during those moments where she was terrified. This part stuck out to me, because the man is already hook, line, and sinker. He literally tried to go to a cabin in the middle of the woods to get away from it all, but fate really has an odd way of catching up to you. Can't exactly run from it Dean.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

OOooooooOOOooooo shots fired. SHOTS FIRED... But did she stutter??

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

I'm losing it over the fact that Sam named his son DEAN Jr. 😂🥰 And also the bit about "running full speed into glass doors" is making me cackle lol.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

This line is so Dean, it's PERFECT, and I really love that it was what made the reader try to snort her diet Pepsi.

And I just want to say thank you for giving Dean the kinda "homemaker" role in this fic. The fact that he's making food for the reader (I'm obsessed with men who can cook) and taking care of her is just:

There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes. Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself. If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

Oh no Dean, you're not like the Cabin in that way. The cabin is made of strong aged wood that keeps out the chill and is full of warmth! The cabin withstands the elements and doesn't fall no matter how hard the howling wind blows! Dang it, I have way too many emotions over that line. Alex, why did you have to do this to me 😭 It's SO GOOD!!

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him. He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate. Which means he’s already screwed. 

I also really like that he doesn't want to admit it and that he didn't believe anyone was out there for him. It seems very Dean for him to be in his head A LOT and being a little self-deprecating. And I'm not sure if you were trying to say that the reader was also a little skeptical about the true mates and if it is a real thing that happens, but I can't wait for part 2 to see if they actually admit it to each other or if they try to keep it a secret as long as they can! Also the song choice perfectly fits the vibes in this fic 👌🏻

My lovely friend, this was so good and I can't wait for part 2!!!

Against the Wind - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: This is a canon ending-divergent AU, but still an Omegaverse story within the canon world. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, scenting, injuries, hints of angst, fluff and feels. 

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: In His Hands

Your body is mostly numb when he pulls you out of the snow.

You utter a sharp cry when something in your side twinges, waking up your entire body like a white-hot shiv. Your ankle begins to throb as well.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.”

You only half hear the voice, a deep, coarse rumble. His form is broad and dark and blurry, but his male scent is the only thing you register with perfect clarity. 

Alpha. 

A small treble of alarm runs through you. It’s an instinct you’ve had to learn, as an omega traveling alone in rural Montana. However, something else disrupts that anxiety.

It’s his scent. His scent is like the crackle and smoke of a warm hearth. 

Safe. Your body is heavy and stiff and doesn’t respond to your commands, and yet, you feel a measure of calm when he maneuvers you into his arms. It’s a baser instinct, rooted deep in your chest. He begins to carry you down the slope of the mountain, and your vision blurs white…

Like the flurry of snow falling heavy on his jacket.  

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you're able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can't yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you...

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“What?” he says. You hear the raised brow in his tone. 

“You sound like a Dean,” you say, perhaps a little delirious. 

Anyway, that’s when your eyes close on you again. You fall back into the warm lull of sleep, to the sound of a crackling fire, and a feeling that permeates throughout your body.

Safe.

Can’t fucking believe this, Dean thinks, as he holds you. Just when he thought his life was done throwing him curveballs.

He tips his head back against the sofa cushion with a tired exhale. It would just be his luck to find a stray omega wandering his stretch of Big Sky. Montana can be gnarly in the winter, but for the past couple of years, Dean has learned to survive here in this rental cabin for a couple of months at a time, when wandering an empty bunker gets to be too much. At least here the quiet’s peaceful, if still a little unnerving sometimes. 

He glances down at you. Now that you’re warm and sleeping again, he should find something to wrap your ankle and ice it down. It’s swollen, and he wants to take an inventory of your other injuries, so he can determine how to get you back down the mountain and through the woods, back to civilization.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

And that last part unnerves him, makes him anxious. He begins to untangle himself from you, but his movements falter when your sweet scent filters through his nose again. Cinnamon apples, with a hint of something floral. 

Fuck me.

It’s almost too sweet to be true, but Dean does his best to ignore it…and what that alluring sweetness probably means. 

Dean leaves you in the morning to revisit the site where you fell. He digs through the snow and manages to find your backpack, filled with your clothes, supplies, and your phone and wallet. He returns just in time. 

The falling snow becomes even more intense, until it becomes a quiet roar outside. You watch the snowstorm through the impact windows in the kitchen, and you know what this means. You’re snowed in with a stranger—an alpha, no less. 

You also have a bum ankle, which he wrapped for you. Doesn’t feel broken, he’d said, but it could be fractured, or at the very least sprained. You also likely have a couple of cracked ribs. 

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asks, while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “This ain’t exactly hiking season.”

While you drink some hot chocolate he made you with a bit of whiskey splashed in (for extra warmth), you explain.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t my best idea in hindsight,” you say with a weak chuckle. “I was trying to find my way back, and I…well, I was a bit lost.”

He raises his brows wryly, still sipping.

“And to make a great situation even better, I thought I heard a wolf howl nearby,” you say. “I know most of them would rather run from us than attack us, but you can’t be sure, you know? I had my rifle on me, so I was turning around, trying to pinpoint what direction it was in…and of course, my foot slipped on something.”

You fell down that hill. You think you even hit a tree on the way down, which would explain your ribs. Everything gets a bit swirly, cold, and dark in your memory after that. 

Dean shakes his head. “Gotta say, going out there alone wasn’t a great idea either, especially now. This time of year, there’s no telling when a blizzard like this is going to come through.”

He waves haphazardly toward the storm raging outside. Your gaze falls to the mug in your hands. You don’t really want to talk about your reasons for taking that risk, but maybe giving him a little honesty will get him off your back.

“My dad and I used to hike up here every year,” you confess. “A few months ago…I lost him. So I guess this was just something I needed to do.”

You blow on your hot chocolate before you take another sip. This time when you glance up, Dean’s judgy expression has evened out into something more sympathetic. He lowers his glass.

“Well, hate to break it to you, but there’s no cell service up here,” he says.

You give a humorless huff. “Believe me, I know.”

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

“But another storm could snow me in,” you realize, with growing apprehension at the thought.

Dean nods. “It’s either I take that chance, leave you by yourself. Or we wait for you to heal up.”

He leaves the choice up to you with a gesture of his hand, the one still wrapped around his glass. You weigh those options with a tilt of your head. On one hand, you don't want to impose on him longer than you had to, but on the other, you really don't want to be left alone in this cabin for God knows how long while he scales the mountain by himself, for your sake.

“I think it would be better if we go down together, right? It can be dangerous, even when the storm breaks,” you reply.

Dean nods slowly, like that was what he was going to suggest too. “All right. Well, until you’ve got two working legs, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I figured as much,” you say. Your head tilts as you consider him. He has a gruff exterior, but all his actions so far have been kind, and far more than you’d expect from a stranger. And an alpha at that. 

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, meeting his gaze, “and for…well, being a decent guy.”

Dean’s lips twitch. He nearly chuckles. Instead, he sits back on his side of the couch. 

“Yeah, well, there’s a spare room in this place for you, one bathroom. The kitchen is stocked. I’m a half-decent cook, if I say so myself, but help yourself.”

He gets up from the couch without preamble, to go to his room, you assume. It leaves you feeling at a loss, like he’s trying to get away from you. You know you’re a guest in his space, so you try to respect the way he wants to be alone for a while. He definitely gives off loner vibes. 

You look around and find a collection of vinyl records, and smaller collection of books on a shelf next to the fireplace. You find Gulliver’s Travels, Dune, The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz—books you didn’t think a guy like Dean would be into. 

You take up The Wizard of Oz, reclaim your spot on the chaise, and start reading.

That night, your dreams are plagued by the crunch of dead leaves, your father shouting at you to run, and to keep running.

The coarse roar of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short.  

You wake with a start, your body both cold and flush at the same time.

Dean is there once again. It confuses you at first, but then it all returns to you in a rush—the where and the why you’re here, once again with the alpha standing over you in concern. He grasps your shoulder and asks if you’re all right. Your breathing is too erratic for you to answer him, your eyes too wide, your body trembling.

Had you been making noise in your sleep? You blush in embarrassment at the thought. You also feel bad for waking him, and all those things get trapped in your throat.

Seeing that you’re most definitely not fine, he sits on the edge of the bed, squeezes your arm, and reminds you. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he tells you. His tone is deep and even, reassuring.

You meet his steady gaze and manage to nod, trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m okay,” you say, with a shaky nod. He gives you a measuring look, both a question and a confirmation. You give it to him with a firmer nod. “Thanks, I…I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He exhales through his nose, accepting. “‘S all right. Don’t worry about it.” 

You feel the loss of his touch when his hand eventually slip away from your shoulder. As soon as he came into your room, he’s gone. 

Dean leaves swiftly, trying to brush off how the scent of your fear had tugged sharply at his gut even in his sleep. It not only woke him up, but compelled him to kick his blankets off and get out of bed to go to you.  

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

Through sheer willpower, he managed to ignore every single one of those instincts.  

Two days pass, in which you and Dean say very little to one another, besides when he asks you what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling. The alpha seems genuine, but guarded any time you ask him about him; anything that’ll give you a clue into who this guy is, and why he’s here. 

You try again to strike up some kind of conversation over dinner one night. 

“Do you live here year-round?” you ask, around a mouthful of burger that’s absolutely delicious. He wasn’t lying when he claimed to be a good cook. He even made the fries himself.

“No,” he replies. “No Netflix, no internet? Think I’d die of boredom. I just come up here to uh…take a beat, I guess.” 

You smile. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes you just need a break,” you say, even though your tone is heavier than you meant it to be. Your gaze, a bit distant in that moment, sharpens and focuses back on Dean. “Where are you from, then?”

“Kansas,” he offers.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

Dean huffs, then crams more burger into his mouth. He hasn’t been giving you a lot to go on while you two have been talking. Unfortunately, you have the tendency to ramble and fill the silence before it becomes even more stifled. 

“She works at a bank. Smart, driven, always knows what she wants. Meanwhile, I’ve had about seven jobs in the last three years, none of which were even remotely related to my almost useless degree in Communications.”

“Yeah, doubt you need a degree in communicating,” Dean remarks, popping another fry into his mouth.

 You purse your lips at him, but the glint of teasing in his eyes makes you fight not to smile. 

“All right, smart guy. So, what about you?” you ask.

Predictably, the man’s walls firm back up. “What about me?”

“Well…why’re you up here alone? Do you have family?” you ask.

Dean quirks a half smile. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay. Younger, I’m guessing?”

He tilts his head at you, a bit amused at your guess. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can’t imagine you with a brother who’s older than you.”

His lips twitch. “You callin’ me old, sweetheart?”

You begin to blush with embarrassment. But also, sweetheart?

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean like…”

Dean saves you with the return of his smile.

“Yeah, he’s younger,” he says. “But he’s the one with the quasi-wife and the apple pie life.” 

“Quasi-wife?”

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

His smile is genuine when he talks about his brother, just tinged with a bit of melancholy, you think. 

“Dean Jr.?” you ask in amusement. Dean Sr. laughs a little, and you enjoy the sound, the way it lightens up his face and pulls at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself to get that honor, but…hey, it works for the kid. He’s got my chin,” he remarks.

He digs into his pocket to show you a picture from his cell phone. Even though it doesn’t have service, you can still view the many pictures of the adorable infant in his camera roll, courtesy of Sam and his mate, Eileen. You coo at the chubby cheeks, the bright little eyes, and the swirled tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Where do they live?” you ask.

“Out west, a stone’s throw from the City of Angels.” Dean’s smile dims. “He just had to go back to California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” you ask.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

You splutter laughing so bad that your diet coke escapes you in a spit take. It partially goes up into your nose, burning, stinging your eyes, but it’s made worse by the way Dean waves a hand up incredulously. You’ve just gotten half his sleeve wet.

He meets your gaze, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. 

“Wow,” he says. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you say, still giggling. You get up, hobble over to the kitchen counter, and rip off a paper towel to try and pat his arm dry. He takes it from you and helps you back into your seat.

“I got it, Spit Take. Just finish your food,” he says, if with a dancing gleam in his eyes.  

From then on, it becomes easier for you to pull the alpha into conversation. Besides reading, napping, and staring out the window while it snows, you don’t have much by way of entertainment. Not to mention the pain of trying to get around without crutches, as it also jostles your ribs. Dean often has to help you from one room to another, which of course, you get embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry!” you yelp, when he saves you from another crash landing in the hallway. You’re fresh out of a shower, and it had taken you twenty minutes just to figure out how to wash your hair on one leg, let alone dry yourself off and get your shirt and borrowed sweatpants on. The main problem in getting back to your room happened to be the pants themselves. Their length and bagginess made you slip.

At least Dean’s learned to ignore your apologies. He now holds you by the waist, having pulled you against his chest on reflex. With furrowed brows, he notices your pained hiss when you grab onto his arms for balance.

“You okay?” he asks with a note of alarm.

“Ribs,” you gasp. They’re throbbing sharply with his hold, especially after being rattled by the near fall.

He immediately adjusts his hold lower, holding your arm and hip to support you. His hands are strong, but gentle. The warmth and pressure of his touch rattles you more than almost falling into a heap. Cliché as it might be, your heart is beating faster, what seems like in and out of rhythm. A feeling you can’t name stirs and tugs at your lower belly when you hazard looking up into his eyes. They’re a nice shade of green, like a forest floor in the spring.

“You just go ass over tea kettle at any moment, huh?” he quips, his lips tugging upward. “Come on. Where were you headed?”

“To my room, wise guy,” you say wryly, even as your blush heats your face and neck. “But this is a great taxi service.”

He snorts. “Yeah, call it the Winchestermobile.”

“Winchester. That your last name? Like the rifle?” you ask, while he helps you carefully down the hall. He nods in confirmation.

“That’s interesting. You don’t meet many Winchesters,” you remark.

“Yeah, well, ain’t that many left,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, easing you down onto the edge of the bed. His hands go to his hips as he scrutinizes your form for further injury. “You good? I was about to get cracking on some lunch.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m thinking grilled cheese. Maybe some tomato soup, assuming I can find a can in the pantry,” he says.

“Honestly, that sounds awesome,” you say. “Haven’t had a grilled since…God, probably since I was a kid.”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, I happen to make an awesome one. No less than three kinds of cheese.”

“If they’re as good as your burgers, then I don’t doubt it,” you reply. He seems pleased at that, and maybe a little bashful as his gaze falls away.

Cute, you think. Your smile grows.

“All right, well, stay tuned,” he says. He winks, tossing you a “gun for hand” gesture that makes you laugh. Dean wears a rugged exterior as easily as his winter jacket, but he’s also kind of a dork.

After lunch (delicious, as you predicted), you take the afternoon just to sort through Dean’s records and alphabetize them for him. You hunker down on the floor in front of the shelf, close to the record player. 

“I don’t need all that. I know where all my stuff is…more or less,” he says, with a lazy wave of the beer he has in hand. 

“Oh really?” you raise a brow. “Okay, let’s test that theory. Where’s Boston.” 

“Right next to the White Album, there on the left.”

Sure enough, you find Boston, as well as the White Album by the Beatles.  

“Oh my God, you actually have the White Album?” You open up the double-sided case in excitement to read the list of songs printed on the inside. “This thing is so expensive.” 

“Beatles fan, huh?” Dean says as he takes a seat on the couch. You turn your smile on him, and he stills in his seat.

“Uh, yeah. Who isn’t?” you say.

Dean shrugs with a smile of his own. “Put it on if you want.”

You bounce a little with excitement before you figure out how to turn on his record player. You put the vinyl album on Side B, moving the needle until you find “Blackbird.”

“Of course,” Dean says, slightly teasing. You turn to him with crunched brows.  

“What? ‘Blackbird’s’ a classic.”

“Eh. Everyone likes ‘Blackbird.’”

“That’s what a classic means,” you argue.

“More like a mainstream copout,” he says. You think it’s just to needle you, but you still purse your lips. 

“Fine, Mr. Music Snob. Then what’s your favorite?”

“On the White Album?”

“Any Beatles song.”

“‘Hey, Jude,’” he says, after a moment. There’s some kind of weight in his eyes, a note of melancholy. You don’t miss it, even though you don’t know why it’s there.

“Everyone likes ‘Hey, Jude,’” you quip, trying to lighten him. 

He smiles a little. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Finally, the snowstorm breaks. Dean ventures outside and brings you back a long, sturdy stick to lean your weight on when you want to move around, though he claims he’s working on a better solution. Now that the snow has let up, he’ll be able to go out to the shed and do some work. 

Whatever that means, you think.

You watch him from the living room when he goes outside to chop some more firewood. 

He should really wear a hat. His brown hair is getting dusted white with snow flurries as he continues to swing down the ax. You notice the power in his tall frame, even covered by layers of his jacket, pants, and boots. You almost feel each chop of the wood resonate in your chest. 

Heat rises in your cheeks when he looks up, as if he senses he’s being watched. You bow your head and pretend to read your book.

His boots continue to crunch in the snow as he makes trips back and forth from the surrounding forest. Aside from the firewood, he brings back a few long, thinner logs that he takes to the shed. Soon you begin to hear the steady back-and-forth cutting of a saw. You wish you could go out there and take a look, but you can’t even get around the house that easily, let alone venture outside.

Your curiosity about this man knows no bounds, and you decide to use the walking stick he found for you in the meantime to get around without putting pressure on your injured ankle. You know it’s wrong, but you end up traversing the long, dark hallway, pushing open the door to the right, and venturing into Dean’s room. 

It smells like him, earthy and tinged with smoke. His scent is seeped into every part of it—the bed, the dresser and nightstands, the dark blue bedsheets, the desk and chair, and even the drapes. It makes you almost lightheaded at the pleasurable feeling of it washing over you.

A shudder suddenly runs down your spine and tugs at your core in arousal. With a sharp intake of breath, you have to shift on your feet, pressing your legs together against the slick already forming down below.

You’re shocked and embarrassed at first. You aim to bolt out of his room, but you stop short in the doorway as it dawns on you.

Your sister is a beta, and so is her husband. She’s never completely understood you as an omega. She never understood your parents either, or the bond they had. She always scoffed at the idea of “true mates.”

Soulmates. It was fantasy and myth, the stuff of cheesy Harlequin novels.

Growing up, you’d agreed with her, even though a part of you deep down always protested. It wanted to tell her not to open her mouth about something she knew nothing about, and would never know. 

The day you met Dean, you knew she was wrong. 

Your more logical mind tries again to reassert itself though. You remind yourself that you barely know anything about this man, no matter how attractive, kind, funny, enigmatic… 

And yet, you can’t shake that part of you that doesn’t rest until you see his face in the morning; until you make him coffee and eat breakfast together, and take any opportunity to pull more threads from him. It’s more than passing attraction. It’s more than just being stuck together in this cabin, unable to escape each other. You know, because the feeling scares you, and it electrifies your blood at the same time.

All these thoughts go through your mind when you turn back around. Slowly, you continue to look around his room, your whole body tingling. The room is neat, more or less, with everything in its proper place. It’s pretty bare though, décor wise. There’s a desk with a few scattered books and a journal sandwiched in between. A smile of surprise forms across your face.

No. Don’t tell me this guy is Mr. Dear Diary? you think in amusement. Though you wonder if it’s another way he passes his time here, especially when he’s holed up in his room.

You know you shouldn’t be snooping, let alone contemplating what you’re about to do…but you can’t help yourself. Biting your lip, you slide out the journal and begin to flip through it. 

You frown at the strange drawings and odd entries—dates, narratives, scraps of information on different types of mythological creatures, and even more strange, on how to kill them. 

What the hell is this?

That’s when you hear the front door swing open. You bolt from his room as quick as you can, not realizing you took the journal with you in your haste. You stuff it up your sweater and pretend like you’ve just come out of the bathroom on the way back to your room. There you slide the journal under your pillow. You jump when Dean knocks on your door.

“Hey,” he greets.

The jolting pains your ribs, and your hand goes to your left side in a hiss. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He takes a step into your room, but you turn to him with a nod and a placating hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just scared me,” you say, with a bit of nervous laughter.

He gives a half smile. “Sorry. Just come ‘ere a sec. I wanna show you something.”

He reaches out a hand to help guide you to the living room.

There he presents you with two rudimentary crutches. Your eyes widen as your free hand passes over the smooth chestnut color of the wood. Dean keeps a light hold on your elbow, just in case.

“You made these?” you ask.

“Yeah, just a bit of woodworking. Picked it up over the last couple of years,” he says.

He’s downplaying it, but you’re nothing short of marveling. You set aside the walking stick in favor of picking up the crutches, and they’re even the right size to position them under your arms.

“Now you don’t have to hobble around like Long John Silver,” Dean quips. You meet the sight of his grin with a raised brow, but you soon begin to smile. When you get close enough to him, you lean the crutches against the couch and give him a warm hug, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. It’s something he was wholly unprepared for, but he hugs you back with a chuckle.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Just then, he tries not to inhale your scent. He tries not to focus on the feeling of your body pressed soft and warm against his. You fit just right. 

After a beat, you have mercy on him and pull away. You take your crutches back up and continue to walk around the living room experimentally. 

“You think I’d be okay trying to go outside?” you ask on your way to the door. Dean tenses.

“Uh, I don’t think—”

But you’re already halfway out the door. He shakes his head and follows you with swift strides. He watches you step out carefully onto the porch like a baby deer. He cleared the snow this morning from the deck and the steps, but he’s more concerned when he sees you considering how you might step out onto the snow.

“Stay on the porch, all right, Bambi,” he warns. “You’re not wearing snow boots and it’s still pretty deep. Not to mention, I’ve been keeping an eye out for a bear that wandered through here last week—”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder in amusement.

“Okay, Alpha. Calm down,” you say playfully. “I’m not gonna go ass over tea kettle.”  

His brow twitches as he frowns. Alpha. He fights not to show his reaction to the way you said it; it calls to his baser instincts, almost stirring a rumble in his chest.

Cheeky little omega.

You keep to the porch, but regardless, you’re happy. You don’t even mind the cold. You see your breath on the air, and you tip your head back, closing your eyes with a smile as the sunshine warms your face. You inhale through your nose and let it out slowly in contentment. 

“It’s a good day, Dean,” you say quietly. 

You don’t realize that he’s watching you with a more reserved smile on his face. When he realizes it, he shakes his head at himself. He’s only been here a week with you, and it’ll probably take a couple more for your ankle to heal up well enough for you to walk again, let alone get down the mountain. 

He doesn’t want to leave you alone up here, so he’ll have to somehow keep fending off your probing questions into his past and personal life. There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes.

Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself.

If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

But he’ll have to keep taking in your brightness and warmth, continue arguing with you about music and other inane shit, and pretend that every small touch of yours doesn’t ignite his skin. That it doesn’t make him have to beat down every instinct he has to pull you into his body and blanket you with his scent, ravage you, claim you, and make you his. 

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him.

He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate.

Which means he’s already screwed. 

AN: And we're off! Special thanks again to Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) for being my sounding board when I was first writing this series. Let me know what you think of Part 1! 💜

Next Time:

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed…

When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

Read on Patreon now!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378

@deanbrainrotwritings @urfav-tz @alwaystiredandconfused @mrlonelycat @deans-daydream

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @aylacavebear

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @suckitands33

@winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess @winchester-whiskey @spnbabe67 @cheynovak

@megara0224 @yoongi-holland @illicithallways @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala

@jessjad @impala-dreamer @k4marina @atenea585 @king-of-milf-lovers

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @daisychaingirl @star-yawnznn @number1whorehome

@g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic @everything-is-all-clear

@trashmoutth @riteofpassage77 @bleuatlas @luci-in-trenchcoats @valerinapetrova

@spnaquakindgdom @podiumackles @ladykitana90 @cookiechipdough @dmz1975

@lamentationsofalonelypotato @itsdesiree86