#i will be hyped about it for a couple of days. and then I'll try to calm down cause caring about numbers too much isn't healthy right?

[bulionis]

stobotnik kissy I drew for reaching 500 followers on Twitter 😳

[daechwitatamic]

cherrybomb || csc

(banner by @sailorrhansol)

cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

wc: 19.5k

warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut

Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily

This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!

Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol

Teaser:

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “You were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...

The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.

That’s what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.

That’s what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.

You’d marked him as your first choice.

You were both nineteen. You’d grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charron’s Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parents’ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.

You needed Seungcheol.

The jaeger program didn’t turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.

Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.

When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that you’d get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.

Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly we’d work together.

And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.

Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldn’t get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didn’t expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.

It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.

You didn’t talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didn’t see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.

The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didn’t matter.

You’d met your co-pilot. You’d found your partner.

—

He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didn’t get from you.

“I know who you are,” he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. “Your parents piloted Charron’s Revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That better not be why you picked me.”

He gave his head an annoyed little flick. “Of course not. I picked you because you’re fluid - and I’m not.”

Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. “That’s true,” you allowed. “You’re not fluid. But you’re purposeful, and-”

You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.

“Cherry, did you hear?” he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. “The crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.”

“Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, introducing the two young men. “Hannie does more than gossip, I promise. He’s one of the pilots for Devil’s Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.”

“In practice only,” Jeonghan demurred. “For now.”

“Cherry?” Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. “That’s not what I wrote on my paper earlier.”

“Just a nickname,” you explained. When you were very small, you’d struggled with the name of your parents’ jaeger, calling it Cherry’s Revenge instead of Charron’s, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. “Only my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. “I like it.”

You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. “So, what’s your story? You’ve heard of me. I haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. There’s something about being in a room that’s positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. You’re not alone.

“Not much of a story, not like you,” he admitted. “I grew up thinking I’d take over my dad’s business. We lost my dad… then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. But…” He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. “I’m strong. So I came here. I came to fight.”

You sidestepped the bruises he’d bared. “Not like me,” you repeated with a bit of a scoff. “I hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I don’t have one, not yet.”

Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality you’d seen. “So all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome aren’t true?”

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, you’d be able to prove them wrong. “What rumors?”

“You’re spoiled,” Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. “Entitled.”

You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “And bitchy! That’s just what I’ve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Love ya!”

You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.

If only you could.

Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.

“I don’t…” you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. “I don’t think I really deserve all that.”

He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. “What I’d heard,” he said calmly, “is that you’re a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless it’s from your friends, apparently.”

This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to co-pilot with you after all.

“I think it’s up to you which story gets told,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “That’s what I always said. So… let’s get started.”

—

You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.

You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapids’s main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.

Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.

You got to know Seungcheol’s fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.

None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didn’t pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.

You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.

Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.

The fighting was the easy part.

You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldn’t even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.

On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.

Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If you’ve talked about it out here-” he swept an arm across the deck, “-it won’t take hold so strongly in there.” He’d jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.

Seungcheol didn’t look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. “Yes, Sir,” he said steadily.

Your parents weren’t technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charron’s Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadn’t been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.

You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.

“Congratulations,” your father said warmly from across the table. “You worked hard to get here.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. “I hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.”

“What do you think of him?” your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.

“I think he’s a great fighter,” you said. “The rest… I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“Do you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?”

You swallowed. She’s right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughter’s life in her co-pilot’s hands, every time there’s a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.

You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.

“Yes,” you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. “Yes, I trust him.”

“Then we wish you luck,” your father said, and raised his glass. “To Duellona Fury.”

“To Duellona Fury,” you echoed.

On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if she’d done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.

You never asked them if they missed it.

—

You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.

“Have you done this before?” you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.

“Not with someone else,” he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. “Only alone.”

You nodded. You’d grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.

“Normally,” you explained, “you focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So there’s no resistance.”

“Have you done this before?” Seungcheol asked.

You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. “I’ve practiced it - I’ve done the meditation with partners. But I’ve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.”

This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.

You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheol’s inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.

When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -

It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadn’t felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.

You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.

Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheol’s shins, he asked you, “Where do you wish you were right now? If you weren’t here.”

You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. “In a tree.”

A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t making fun of him somehow. “A tree?”

“No, really,” you insisted, still smiling a little. “There’s not a lot of nature here, in case you didn’t notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.

You frowned, reading him exactly. “You think I’m sheltered,” you observed. It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t say no.

He looked at you, then. “You were sheltered,” he said, voice low. “But when I say it, I don’t mean naive. I just think… there’s a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You won’t see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.”

You nod, accepting this. “I won’t see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. There’s a lot of world out there - that we’re trying to keep safe.”

Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, “Have you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?”

“Sort of,” you mumbled.

He’d rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. “Kind of seems like a yes-or-no question.”

Your lips twisted. “Then, no. But I’ve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charron’s Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldn’t see her get sawed in half.”

You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. “I know it’s not the same as looking one in the face myself,” you whispered. “But the fear… shouldn’t that fear count, shouldn’t it feel the same?”

Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.

“When Menaceclaw attacked,” he said, “he missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasn’t even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I don’t think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one… nothing was going to be… the same, or okay. I don’t know.”

“You knew what you lost,” you said quietly. “Part of you did.”

He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. “You never knew anything different. It wasn’t a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.”

You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.

“What?” he asked through the quiet laugh. “Why are you looking at me?”

“What else?” you mused. “What else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?”

He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.

“A lot of my family, probably,” he said. “A lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.”

You laughed without meaning to. “My condolences?”

He grinned at you, pleased. “Eh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.”

You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. “What about you?” he asked off-handedly.

“Mid sex?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “I hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I don’t do anything mid.”

“No,” he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. “I meant - what will we see when it’s your turn?”

“The Dome,” you said, half-joking - but it was true. “Training. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.”

And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you weren’t saying.

“We’ll have our turn,” he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. “We’re gonna be fucking unstoppable. Let’s go again.”

Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.

—

Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.

You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.

“Meet you there?” you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.

You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didn’t know.

Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. “Our table,” he whined.

“There’s Chan and Wylie,” you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.

“You’re bleeding, Cherry,” he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.

You started to scan your arms - you didn’t feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he murmured. “I should’ve pulled that punch.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. “You pull shots in practice, you’ll hesitate in the field.”

“She’s right,” Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. “What you practice will show up in your muscle memory. You’ve got to mean it, every time.”

Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, “Did you guys see the new jaeger?”

“I did,” Seungkwan said eagerly. “Chaser Supernova, or something like that? She’s smaller, but she’s supposed to be fast.”

“Is that her team at our normal table?” you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.

The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwan’s two co-pilots - settle in.

“Talking about Supernova?” he asked, hands busy opening his drink. “They seem okay - they’re a trio, like us.”

“Where is Seokmin?” Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. “I haven’t seen him in like two hours.”

“Talking to Jihoon, I think,” Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. “He lost another co-pilot today.”

“Not again,” you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.

“That was freaky,” Wylie said, just as Chan told you, “You two are acting like us, now.”

“We do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,” Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.

Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.

“We won’t be,” he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.

—

The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.

“I’m never nervous,” he said, suddenly cocky.

If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.

“It’s only practice,” you reminded him. “And it’s only me.”

He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.

“Normally,” your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, “right now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we aren’t dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, we’ll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.

“You’re all good?” Nainsi checks. “Then I’m going back into the tech bay - you’ll hear me through the intercom.”

Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheol’s gaze and couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.

He didn’t return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.

Over the intercom, you said clearly, “Ready and aligned.”

Nainsi answered, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulator’s tech system spoke around you, 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.

The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheol’s childhood home. You didn’t know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.

Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.

You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.

“It’s not real,” you reminded him gently. “It’s just a memory.”

“I know,” he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. “It’s just… good to see them.”

The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.

You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, you’re going to be fine.

And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.

Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.

Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure… recalibrating in 3… 2… 1…

“It’s only a memory,” you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.

Neural handshake disengaged…

“Seungcheol!” you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. “What the hell was that? You pushed me out!”

He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. “Not that,” he said, a little ragged. “I’ll let you in but - not that.”

“You don’t get to choose!” you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, he’d never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. “It’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing!”

He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. “Sorry. I’ll… let’s try again.”

You didn’t answer, fuming silently instead.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” he said. “The stuff with my dad…”

“You can’t cherry-pick what we see and what we don’t,” you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. “Don’t you laugh, Seungcheol, it’s not funny!”

But you were laughing through the scolding.

“Stop,” you whined.

Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. “It’s not about you,” he tried to explain. “I’m not keeping you out. I’m keeping me out.”

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” you told him, shaking your head. “See what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I don’t know… grief - rise up… that’s when we’re going to have trouble.”

“Find the next door,” he repeated, eyes on the floor. “Got it.”

“You can’t push it away,” you reminded him, “but you don’t have to stay in it, either.”

He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.

The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadn’t called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.

The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.

You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you don’t have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, “I’m here.”

The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.

You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his father’s memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.

—

It got easier quickly. Seungcheol’s ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.

The strolls through your mind went easier - you’d had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.

Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. He’d sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charron’s Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parents’ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, “Charron’s Revenge, cleared to return.” The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.

You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.

“Seungcheol!” you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.

“We’re approved to drop!” you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. “We’re on the drop schedule for tomorrow!”

His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.

You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didn’t go off, because you weren’t on duty, weren’t approved to fight.

Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.

“Cat-3 in the west bay,” someone shouted.

“Deploying Devil’s Advocate!”

You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.

“Let us drop,” you said quickly, knowing time was precious. “It’ll be like practice. We can be back-up. We’ll hang back.”

“Absolutely not,” the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. “You’re not approved yet. We don’t need a liability right now.”

“We’re scheduled for tomorrow!” you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get our turn,” Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course he’d come out, of course he found you.

You deflated. “It could have been us. We are hours from approval.”

He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. “We’ll get our turn,” he repeated. “Don’t make trouble.”

You glowered, but you knew he was right. “Fine,” you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.

You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, “Devil’s Advocate, cleared to return.”

Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated.

—

Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.

Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a planner’s touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.

But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before you’re even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.

That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.

Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.

“She looks sick,” he said, the grin taking over his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck shit up,” you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.

“Ready?” the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. “We’ll get you calibrated and dropped, and then you’ll do a lap of the bay. We’re sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.”

The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.

“It’s just safety protocol.” The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. “Have fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.”

You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaeger’s mainframe.

Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdome’s sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.

For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheol’s delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.

“How is it?” Soonyoung’s voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasn’t far behind you.

“Incredible,” Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, “It’s everything.”

It didn’t matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didn’t matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.

—

The west bay became Duellona’s playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.

It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.

“Come in, Duellona Fury,” Nainsi’s voice came through. “We have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -”

Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.

“Are you ready for this?” you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.

“You know I am,” he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.

When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.

It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.

The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellona’s shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.

“Are we breached?” you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.

“Not yet!” he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.

You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. “Cherry, don’t fight me!”

“Move with me!” you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.

Don’t fight me.

You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaiju’s trajectory, just as you’d done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaiju’s middle that sent it stumbling.

“We’ve got him,” you said, feeling a win.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.

Duellona’s arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.

“I don’t think we can hold it,” you managed through grit teeth.

“We’ve got this,” your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.

“Drop the bombs and head for the east side,” you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bay’s churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.

“Ready?” Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. “Are we far enough away?”

“Light him up,” you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.

—

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, later, in the med bay.

“Not that bad,” Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised. “I think I just… practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.” Then, he brightened. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?” you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.

His smile was devilish. “I want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.”

– 

You marked the passing of two years in statistics.

Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.

Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills. 

Seventy-two mainframe repairs.

Twenty-eight achievement awards.

Nine television interviews.

Six upgrades.

One ill-informed “vacation” during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldn’t miss a fight in which you were needed.

Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheol’s mind and heart. But that stat should’ve gone first.

It was a good high. Your team had a good run.

It wasn’t a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.

There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldn’t bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they weren’t.

There was no moment of realization at all.

Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.

If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.

Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead. 

You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.

“Looks like it’s only a Cat-1,” Mission Control told you.

“On it,” you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheol’s as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves. 

You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadn’t. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated. 

He caught your gaze for only a second. “Focus, Cherry,” he cautioned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never,” you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.

For a second, things felt better. 

The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju you’d been sent for. 

You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each other’s. 

This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away. 

It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.

No. 

You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheol’s consciousness out of yours.

Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering. 

“Cherry!” Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellona’s mainframe.

You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted. 

Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.

“Recalibrate faster!” you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them. 

You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.

You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.

“What was that?” Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed you’d caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.

“I don’t know,” you lied, still panicked and desperate. 

“Bullshit,” Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. “I’m fine now,” he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.

You fought the urge to cower, knowing he’d never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.

Then, more calmly this time, he asked, “What happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.”

There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true.  “I got scared.” 

“That can’t happen, and you know it,” he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. “You can’t keep secrets - that’s piloting 101. We’ve got to handle it. You know what’s at stake here.”

You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasn’t just feelings, it wasn’t just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.

Your parents’ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.

“I’m going to my mom and dad’s for a while,” you said quietly. 

He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.

You weren’t sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.

You didn’t go to your parents’, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaeger’s torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol. 

“He’s pissed at me,” you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isn’t Seungcheol with you? 

You weren’t sure she’d understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.

“What’d you do?” Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.

“Almost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,” you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.

Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. “Cherry!” she scolded. 

“There was something I didn’t want him to see.” You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped she’d just know what it was, hoped you wouldn’t have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.

Wylie’s face dropped into irritation. “Cherry,” she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.

You looked up at Duellona Fury again. 

“You can’t do that,” she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. “You know you can’t do that.”

You can’t love him? Or, you can’t keep secrets from him?

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.

You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.

Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.

And right now, you were the problem.

“Hey?” you tried meekly.

He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood. 

He’s pissed at me, you’d told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.

“How was it at your parents’?” he asked, voice low. 

You took one tentative step closer. “I didn’t go,” you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. “I watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.”

He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasn’t laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.

If he was in your mind right now, there’d be no question. He’d know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it. 

His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. “You should’ve had them look at that,” he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away. 

You shook your head. “You needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.” Because of me.

“Only for a minute.”

“A minute too long. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

It hung between you. You don’t know if you’d inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadn’t been just seconds ago.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. “You pushed me out.”

It was an accusation, but it was also a question.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Seungcheol, I was scared.”

Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “Don’t be scared.”

His arms were around you though you didn’t see him move. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that you’d found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones. 

But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.

You don’t know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything you’d wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.

You didn’t mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.

“Cherry,” he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.

Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces. 

His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you. 

His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.

“Yours,” you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.

Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.

You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.

The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldn’t take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.

You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it. 

He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction. 

Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.

The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like he’d just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.

Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that. 

His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.

Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense. 

You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if you’d made some kind of admission. 

Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way he’d watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you needed more or less or him. 

The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his father’s memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.

He felt how you’d always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.

You didn’t speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didn’t say the words that your lips tried to form - it’s so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, don’t stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didn’t need wires.

You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldn’t help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling. 

He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. “Cherry… Cherry…”

You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. “Cheol,” you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didn’t say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing. 

You didn’t know that you’d drifted together for the last time. You didn’t know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.

–

The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When you’d first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt. 

You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.

But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. You’ve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.

Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole. 

Being unable to pilot, unable to fight. 

Being brokenhearted.

Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind. 

You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise you’d swear it was at least a hundred. 

The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When you’d first come, you’d legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that. 

As you cross the courtyard between the trainers’ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you don’t take for granted the fresh air you’re afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You don’t take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.

It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome. 

It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasn’t a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles. 

When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.

“You’re later than normal,” one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.

You shrug lightly, unbothered. “Still have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? I’ve got the little ones first, right?”

The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner. 

You’re mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still haven’t figured out how that happened. 

It would be a lie to say this wasn’t fulfilling, that you didn’t love the girls you cared for, that you weren’t happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.

But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheol’s teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.

The final time you’d tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.

“Don’t do this,” Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.

Don’t do this, he’d said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.

After that failure, you didn’t tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didn’t want to give him the chance to say don’t do this a second time.

You’ve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training room’s side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the center’s Administrator calls your name from the door.

“There’s a call for you on my line. I have them holding.”

A call? 

Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.

You’ve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop. 

You greet the person on the line with your real name. 

“Cherry?”

Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times they’ve said it on your weekly calls home.

“It’s me,” you affirm. “Is everything okay? My parents?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, and you heave a relieved breath. “Everyone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.”

You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he can’t see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, “Me? Why?”

“We’re down a few teams,” the Marshall says. “And -”

“You’ve got more recruits than places to put them,” you counter before he can finish. “Call one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You don’t need me.”

“We do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.”

Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems they’re having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. You’ve seen this before, you all have, and there’s protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck. 

You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows you’re being taken away. 

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “What can I give you? I can’t pilot Duellona.”

Not anymore. 

The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didn’t have a good response. 

“I think you can,” he says finally. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.”

“No,” you say, the first time you’ve voiced it. “You were there. You saw what happened. We can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. You’ve both had a lot of time to…. You’ve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administrator’s pen. 

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that you’ve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time. 

And Seungcheol’s anger? The anger and betrayal he’d leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldn’t speak for him, but if you had to guess, there weren’t enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall hesitates. “Not yet.”

“You might want to do that first,” you point out. “Before flying me back only to have him refuse.” 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

The girls cry when you tell them you’re leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the center’s only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.

It’s standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time you’d lost at the Dome, for the fights you’d sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago. 

You’d been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. You’d been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. You’d been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.

But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh. 

As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the ship’s railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.

You’d been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.

Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didn’t, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together. 

But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then… that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.

Of course, you’d lost it all anyway.

Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?

Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.

You turn away from the ship’s railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. There’s no use looking back like this. You can’t change it. You aren’t even sure you can fix it.

You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but you’re woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.

The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.

The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheol’s hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe he’ll greet you warmly, maybe you’ll pick up right where you left off.

This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation you’d feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someone’s mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.

You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after he’s gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long. 

You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. You’ve craved it ever since.

You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.

You know you can’t have it - any of it. The daydream isn’t real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.

When you arrive at the Shatterdome, it’s your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, you’re happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. They’ve aged in these three years. You’ve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter. 

They walk with you to the Marshall’s office, where you’re meant to report upon arrival. 

You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffle’s strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

“It will be okay,” she whispers. 

Your father catches on. “You’ve faced down worse,” he reasons. 

You disagree. There’s no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them you’ll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshall’s voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside. 

All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. He’s the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.

His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control. 

You don’t know what reaction he’s fighting. You don’t know if he’s feeling happiness or hatred. You don’t know if he’s fighting a smile or a scowl.

You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat. 

He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.

“I trust your travel went well?” the Marshall begins.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.

“Your orders,” he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, “are to reconnect as best you can. You’ll follow your old schedule. You’ll spar, you’ll meditate, and you’ll talk. After some time, we’ll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.”

Seungcheol’s voice startles you when he speaks. “How long do you imagine it will be before we try?” he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it. 

The Marshall’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as if he’d caught it. “That’s entirely up to you two,” he says evenly. “When you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.”

You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch. 

“Your allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,” he says. This is his way of dismissing you.

In the hallway, you pause. “I’m just going to drop my bag in the dorm,” you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol. 

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.

Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. You’re not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night you’d spent together.

Neither thing happens. You aren’t overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what you’ve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.

Your footsteps’ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. It’s pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.

Strangely, it’s stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.

It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesn’t speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.

Well, that and sleeping together, but you don’t see that on your agenda.

You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what he’s feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.

Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheol’s upper body untense, as if he’d been ready to fight and recognized that you weren’t.

“I’m good,” you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like that’s somehow less dishonest. “Let’s go.”

Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, you’d teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.

You and Seungcheol could - literally, you’d tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You don’t know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, it’s too easy.

You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.

Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. You’ll have to touch for the first time, even if it’s forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.

It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.

After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago you’d have used this break to chat, but you don’t know what to say to him. You’re scared that he’ll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly don’t think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.

After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when you’ll spar for real.

You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. You’d long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like it’s your first time again.

Seungcheol attacks as you’d expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging won’t be enough - eventually he’ll cage you in unless you distract him.

You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.

You can’t do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.

You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle you’re balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.

You aren’t hurt. Not this time.

“Get up, Cherry,” he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. “And don’t do that shit again.”

He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you don’t try to strike. You know he knows it; this isn’t how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you can’t make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.

You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.

The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.

“If you’re not going to fight, then leave,” he spits.

“Would if I could,” you retort without thinking. You mean that you don’t want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.

It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.

“I didn’t mean -” you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.

“Don’t waste my fucking time,” he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.

“Don’t curse at me,” you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.

You hate this side of him.

You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.

“Seungcheol,” you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.

“Cheol,” you try again. “Listen to me.”

“Marshall scheduled us time to talk later,” he says flatly. “Right now we’re scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Let’s go.”

The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time it’s over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.

You don’t know what to do to make it all better.

You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours you’re scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.

You’re wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.

You can’t focus at all - can’t shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.

Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You can’t stop watching him, hoping you’ll see him relax, hoping you’ll see the moment that he lets go.

He doesn’t.

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed,” he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.

“I can’t,” you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. It’s not like you could make this worse. “I can’t stop noticing how angry -”

“Then stop pissing me off,” he snaps, eyes opening. “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you cry, and push yourself to stand. You’re not sure why - maybe just to pace. “You never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?”

He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt you’ve seen since you came home.

“Fine,” he finally bites back, and you know it’s as close to sorry as you’ll get. “I’ll reign it in. Sit back down.”

You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.

“Sit down, Cherry,” he repeats, and it’s gentler now. That’s what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.

He’s less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But you’re still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.

The pain feels like a cramp, except it’s behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that you’re out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.

You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.

It won’t do any good, and you know it.

He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and he’d pick you up. You’d taken it for granted, and you’d run away from it. You’d chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.

—

Dinner is just as bad.

You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you haven’t seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.

“I missed you both so much,” you whisper, the only vulnerability anyone’s going to get out of you today.

“Then don’t leave again!” Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.

“I can’t promise,” you admit. Honestly, you’ve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. You’re not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you can’t drift?

You’ve already given up hope that he’ll come around.

Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what you’ve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost don’t notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghan’s other side, but something in you prickles, like you’ve sensed him.

The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When it’s apparent that he’s going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.

“Come on, Seungcheol,” she scolds, and you’re sure no one wonders what she means.

His face goes dark so quickly it’s alarming. “Don’t,” he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.

Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chan’s eyes pingpong between them. He’s probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Cherry, no,” Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?

“It’s fine,” you repeat, standing. “I told my mom and dad I’d come by.”

You slink out before anyone else can argue.

You can’t even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you can’t have him anymore. He isn’t yours, not anymore.

When you return to your dorm, he’s already in bed, the lights out. He’s facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.

You don’t try to talk to him. You just go to bed.

—

You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheol’s ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellona’s mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else you’re able to handle on your own.

“Since you can’t do anything else useful,” he adds, and you avoid Seungcheol’s eyes, ashamed.

Standing under Duellona’s unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like you’re letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.

You work in silence for hours.

Eventually, you crack. You’re not sure if it’s the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.

You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. “What are we doing?” you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.

“Following orders?” he says, stepping around Duellona’s side to look at you. “Fixing up the jaeger?”

“Fixing up the jaeger we don’t get to pilot?” you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.

“Is that what you’re here for?” he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. “To fight? Is that why you came back?”

You reach up to the walkway’s railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it. 

“I’m back because the Marshall gave me an order,” you say slowly. 

“And that’s it?” he demands. 

You stare at him. You feel sure there’s more to the question, more that he’s asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that he’s really asking, you didn’t come back for me?

And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: you’d shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. You’d made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.

Is there more to it, his anger?

Should you call him on it, should you ask?

You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like he’s disgusted with you. “I should have known,” he says coldly. “Princess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.”

This is something you’ve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something he’d pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight. 

“That isn’t fair,” you say, your voice hard. “Is there another reason I should have come back? I’d love to hear it.”

He hears the challenge as it is - you didn’t ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.

He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.

“Exactly,” you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesn’t feel like a win at all. “The bottom line is I’m here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.”

He shakes his head. “You left,” he says finally. “That’s the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didn’t want me in your head, and then you left.”

He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he lets out a derisive little laugh. “We’re both wasting our time here. The drift won’t work. We aren’t going to fix it.”

For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. “You can’t know that,” you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.

“I can,” he retorts. “You know how I know? Because I don’t want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Can’t turn back now.”

He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.

“So that’s it?” you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and you’re starting to get tunnel vision. 

The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.

—

You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.

After, you go to the Marshall’s office, determined. Or maybe resigned.

When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.

“Requesting an audience,” you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.

He glances at his watch. “Five minutes.”

You step inside but leave the door open.

“I’m requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,” you tell him as evenly as you can manage. You’re sure he’s not surprised. “Seungcheol has made it very clear that we won’t be fighting together again. If that’s the case, then I can’t do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.”

You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshall’s face - any hint that he’s considering what you’re saying, or that it’s a lost cause. He gives you nothing.

“Please,” you say. “Those girls need me. If I can’t help here, I can help them.”

The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. “Surely anyone can teach little girls the forms.”

You shake your head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isn’t going to happen… Please, don’t make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.”

The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.

Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. “If,” he says, and your eyes widen with hope, “your co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.”

“No problem,” you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.

When you step out of the Marshall’s office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. That’s always how it was, before.

You look at him disdainfully. “I assume you heard that conversation?”

He nods, once.

“So?” you ask. “Will you tell him you approve, so I can go?”

For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.

“No,” he says easily, like it’s kind of funny.

Fury erupts inside you; you can’t even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. “Why?” you demand. “Because you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?”

He doesn’t respond to this. You know you’re right. You know him. You know his mind.

“I hate to fuck up your narrative,” you spit at him, “but I’ve lost out here just as much as you have. You’re not the only one who lost the ability to fight. You’re not the only one who lost their partner.”

You wish you could tell him the rest - you’re not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and you’d had to harbor your broken heart.

He shakes his head. “Poor baby,” he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.

—

You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parents’, sometimes on Wylie and Chan’s tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.

The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Dome’s recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isn’t quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.

Then, he schedules you to spar.

In your first week, you’d been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. You’d been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then he’d be soft back to you.

Now, you’re fucking furious.

For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. He’s surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and he’s been learning the steps in secret.

The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he can’t get a hit on you either - you’re too quick, spurred on by fury. You’ve been angry in a fight before. But you’ve never been angry at him.

You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.

He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.

“Shit!” you cry, hurrying closer. “I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.”

“‘M fine,” he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.

“You’re gonna have a fat lip,” you tell him regretfully. “But nothing’s bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?”

He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. “Nope.”

You take a step back, cowed. “I’m really sorry.”

He laughs a little, wryly. “I bet you feel better, though.”

You bite back a smile. “Actually…” you say, and he laughs again. You both do.

Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger you’ve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.

He avoids your gaze. “I need some water,” he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.

You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.

“Hey,” he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. “Tell me about Alaska.”

You can’t help but smile.

“It’s so beautiful,” you tell him. “God, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snow…”

He’s watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match that’s mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.

“So you liked it?” he asks. You can hear how hard he’s working to make it sound casual.

“It was so beautiful,” you admit before ducking below a kick. “But it was also… really hard.”

“What was the best part?” he asks.

You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. “Weirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? I’m the one who knew Yejin won’t sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. I’m the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because they’re competitive. I’m the one that knew that Maria and Anjali don’t know their times-tables, that Ximena can’t brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.”

He looks at you for a long time. “Maybe you should go back,” he says finally.

It feels like a trap. 

You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. “If you’ll do this for real,” you say carefully, “then I’d rather be here. If we’re actually trying, then I don’t want to go.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.

“What was the worst part?”

There’s only one answer.

“Missing you,” you say. “Losing you.”

He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.

When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.

–

You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, he’s sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.

You sit next to him and he doesn’t get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.

“I can’t do this if you’re not all in,” he tells you without looking at you. “You walked away from me once. I can’t let you back in my head if there’s any possibility you’ll walk away again. If you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like you’re starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasn’t yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.

Something about his hurt. Something about why.

“I think we should try to drift,” you tell him.

This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I can tell you how much I missed you,” you reason, “and tell you about how I spent every minute just… steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.”

You know what you’re risking. If he gets into your head now, he’ll see it all - he’ll know everything, he’ll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love. 

But what’s the harm, now? You can’t lose him twice. Maybe it’ll be enough for him to realize you hadn’t left him because you didn’t care about him. Maybe it’ll be enough for his forgiveness. 

Maybe then, he’ll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk. 

It’s Seungkwan you bother, since he’d been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.

You buzz with nerves. The last time you’d tried this, the neural handshake hadn’t even connected. There had just been nothing.

The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You can’t even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheol’s memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.

His first memories are a breeze - the ones you’ve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his father’s hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.

You’re facing the landing dock on the Shatterdome’s roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.

You watch yourself walk towards the chopper’s open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.

You hadn’t known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.

The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like you’re drowning, like it’s too deep and you can’t feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “I’m with you.”

He nods, still doesn’t look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding. 

There’s knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheol’s thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.

You can’t stay here, can’t let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - that’s how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s following. 

He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.

When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. You’re watching yourselves in Seungcheol’s bed. Thankfully, you’re sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.

The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake. 

He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.

“We can talk about it after,” he says, voice hard. “Don’t stay in it. Find the next door.”

Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking he’d pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.

“Cherry,” he warns. “The drift can’t -”

You know. 

And you owe him your side of the story.

You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You don’t take his hand. You don’t know if you deserve to, if he’d want you to.

When you step through the doors, you’re confused - you’re still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.

Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. 

You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.

Fear. It’s still fear - fear that he’ll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide. 

Beside you, Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. 

“We have to move on,” you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory. 

“You -?” he starts to ask.

“After,” you tell him firmly. “We’ll talk after.”

You open the door, and you’re suddenly outside, surrounded by white.

Alaska.

The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know you’re not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.

And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.

If he didn’t know before, he has to know now. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.

“We should go back and talk about this,” he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.

“Okay. It’s this way,” you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you can’t see anything but grey, can’t see anything but Seungcheol’s hand in yours.

You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Fury’s conn-pod.

As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, “Kwan? We… need some privacy. We’ve got to talk - alone.”

His voice crackles back at you. “Yes, I’m leaving, I’m already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you don’t.”

Seungcheol gives you a flat look. “Let’s go home and talk,” he suggests.

Home.

You are so afraid and so hopeful. You don’t know how to juggle both.

Back in your small living space, you sit like you’re meditating.

“Let’s figure this out,” he says. “No lies.”

“No lies,” you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“You knew,” you say first, bordering on accusation. “I was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you… but you knew.”

He nods, his eyes on you. “And you,” he says slowly, “didn’t… know? That I knew?”

You shake your head, confirming. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid it.”

He smiles at you, a little placating. “Not as well as you would have liked.”

“And you…” You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. “You… loved me, too?”

He nods. “I did.” 

The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.

“We felt the same,” you echo into your shins. “You loved me.”

“Cherry,” he says above you, his voice like a plea. “I don’t understand why - when we… when I… I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.”

You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign. 

“You thought… wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?”

He nods. “I thought you knew,” he says, confusion still present in his tone. “I thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.”

You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. “And instead,” you realize, “we couldn’t even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.”

He looks at you in wonder. “That’s why you left,” he breathes, and you know he’s understanding this for the first time. “You thought we made the problem worse.”

It’s your turn to nod. “After we…I mean, I knew if I couldn’t hide it from you before that night, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I… was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed… hopeless to keep trying.”

The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.

You push on, adding, “I was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.”

Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.

He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. “We’re so fucking stupid,” he says, and you splutter out a laugh.

“We really are.”

“I can’t believe we lost three years over that,” he says.

“I can’t believe you thought it was your fault that I left.”

“I can’t believe you left in the first place.”

This makes you smile, guilty. “That’s fair.”

You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if you’re already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem. 

“Cherry,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “It could never be too much. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’m only me when I’m with you.”

You remember him, the night you’d slept together, telling you, don’t be afraid. He’d told you, after all, and you’d missed it entirely.

You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands don’t wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he won’t let you move an inch, won’t let you out of his grasp ever again.

You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. “Cheol,” you whisper, then kiss him again. “You’re everything.” It’s what you should have said aloud the night you’d slept with him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just say it.”

“Me too,” you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. “I should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.”

He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time you’d wasted apart. 

You’re interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. You’re even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“I’ve heard your drift is working again,” the Marshall says dryly. 

You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“There’s a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savage’s team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?”

Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. “Well?” he asks you. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“I’m in,” you tell him seriously. “I’m with you.”

You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you can’t help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded. 

You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - “Ready and aligned.”

Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

The artificial voice bounces around you - 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibrating…

You’re crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadn’t seen in years. You resist the urge.

“Ready to drop?”  He looks sideways at you, sly. 

You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like you’re twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. “Been ready. Let’s light ‘em up.”

– end

thank you so much for reading!!!!

stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!

[yoongifis]

💌 switching positions | myg

where the boy that you’ve got wrapped around your finger works his hardest to change his position from a somewhat friends-with-benefit to an official relationship with you. [and hes not the only one who will be switching positions ;)] *if you haven’t read ‘fxck a fxckboy’ yet, i suggest to read it before reading this! or don’t :p do as you wish!*

pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi

; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, handjobs breastplay, usage of sex toys, masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi

; genre: smut (18+), pwp

; wc: 11k (hooooly sheeeeiiit)

a/n: SHES FINALLY HERE AAAAHH!! a little continuation of fuckboy yoongi~ hehe! very very sorry it took me so long! i had this in the drafts for a while and was slowly building it throughout the year :v now i've gotten busy bc your girl got into nursing school :') don't get me wrong though, i'll do my best to put out some writings here and there bc i do enjoy doing this :p i also wanna say thank you so much for showing so much love to the original 'fxck a fxckboy' fic!! i didn't expect it to gain that much attention, so i was pretty hyped to see a lot of people enjoying it :D i really hope you guys enjoy this one <3 it's just a little somethin' to fulfill your fuckboy yoongi needs hehehe. fair warning though, this is literally pure smut with no sort of plot (call me a horny mofo lmfaoooo). please ignore my grammatical errors :') i'll fix them at some point when i am notttt lazy ! :p

-

“Yoongi, could you quit it? I’m trying to help you study for your exam!”

The two of you were in one of your university library’s study rooms—which included a whiteboard, a table, and a couple of chairs in a somewhat small amount of space. Out of all the seats that were around the table and the free space this room has to offer, he chose to stand right behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as his head rests on the back of your shoulder as you wrote things on the whiteboard. 

He’s groaning out of boredom. 

“But isn’t this supposed to be a date?”

You snort with a chuckle, “yeah—a study date.”

You went a couple more rounds on the day you first slept with each other (and damn did he go crazy). After that, you told him you didn’t want to fuck him without being “official” because it felt like you were one of his little flings. He respected that, and really held himself back (although he does manage to sneak some kisses from you here and there to get his daily dose of you). He became eager to get you to be his girlfriend, but like you said you wanted to go on dates before you can agree.

And that’s what he did.

He’s been making everything into a date. And so far, he’s taken you on plenty.

Work on assignments together at the school library? (study) Date. 

Drive around town, enjoying the views as you guys talked? (car-ride) Date.

Watch a movie at his place with all the snacks he bought just for you? (movie night) Date. 

How about the two of you make dinner together? (cooking) Date.

It was cute. Something you’d never expected from him. Did he always have this romantic, sweet, and cheesy side to him? You could tell he is trying to keep his promise—take you on a bunch of dates till you agree to be his girlfriend. It may seem a bit too much, but due to his past history you wanted to make him wait and work hard for the ‘boyfriend title’—which he was willing to do. 

“Still a date,” he mumbles.

Yoongi’s squeezing you tightly, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, lips just slightly brushing against your skin. 

“Yoongi, you’ve got to study. They’re not going to let you graduate if you don’t pass this class. This is what you get for always skipping.”

“I just don’t understand that calculus shit. And I can’t study when you’re around.”

“You don’t even like it when I’m not around—but it somehow has to be me that has to help you with studying.”

“Exactly.”

You’re chuckling again at how cute he was. How is it that he was one of the biggest fuckboys at your school and now he’s the biggest simp for you?

“How about we make a deal?”

He hums, “I’m listening.”

“Pass the class and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

His head shoots up. “Whatever I want?” He repeats.

“And I’ll stop your suffering and agree to be your girlfriend.”

It’s like a whole switch went off in his body; he was ready to get going.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he’s removing his hold around you, finally taking a seat with a pencil in his hand and a paper in front of him as he looks at you, “if that’s all it’s going to take for me to be your boyfriend, I’ll do it.”

—

Of course, Yoongi left himself with only two days to study for his final exam. It may seem like not enough time, but one thing you learned about him is that he can get really determined to do something especially if he gets some type of reward from you. 

He surprisingly locked himself in his room (according to Hoseok), and was trying to do things on his own. He also did not contact you at all that day—making that day the first time the two of you haven’t hung out or contacted each other since the day you both had that little confession session.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were honestly missing Yoongi despite it only being a day. You’ve gotten so used to having him constantly around you that him not being right next to you felt so off. 

These feelings must’ve been bothering you so much because now you’re at the front door of his apartment with an early dinner of take-out in your hand, waiting for Hoseok to open the door.

“He’s still in his room—the doors unlocked this time which is new. I would have loved to join you guys but I promised to go out with the other boys,” he pauses. “…I did ask Yoongi to join me but he told me to ‘get lost’, so—,” he grumbles under his breath as he makes his way around you.

You laugh at him.

“No worries, Hoseok. Just go have fun.”

The two of you switch places, with his hand still on the door handle as he’s about to head out.

“I should be saying that to you guys,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yoongi’s right! Get lost already!!” You gently hit the side of his arm as he laughs at your reaction. “Don’t be so weird.”

“Who said it had to be those things? I never said that,” he laughs, but you roll your eyes at him. “Go out, watch a movie, or cook—whatever to get him up and out of his room. That guy isn’t even getting enough rest like usual and barely ate today and yesterday. I’ve literally never seen him like this before—he’s actually studying pretty hard for his exam.”

You’re thinking to yourself, giving him a little nod before he says his final goodbye and shuts the door.

God—Yoongi is really serious about this.

You knock before you enter, only to be faced with Yoongi at his desk, tons of loose paper scattered everywhere and crumpled ones on the floor. He didn’t even notice you until you said his name, his focus from the lecture playing on his laptop switched to you when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Babyy,” he mumbles lowly, a little smile on his mouth.

You’re walking towards him, expecting his eyes to stay on you but they don’t. He’s listening to whatever lecture he had on, scribbling down whatever. It kind of hurt a little. You were too used to having his attention all on you.

“Have you eaten? I brought some take out.”

All he does is shake his head, still focused on his work.

A small pout on your face appears, upset with how he was. You put the bag filled with food onto the floor, next to the drawers of his desk. You take a step closer to him, a hand immediately going to his head to run your fingers through his messy hair. You gently massage his scalp with the pads of your fingers, leaning over to take a look at his work. The only sound that could be heard between you two was the lecture that he had playing.

“Look at you, working so hard,” you broke the silence, “you literally weren’t able to be like this at the library.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just a little “uh-huh”. It was more of a little grunt in agreement. 

It bothered you that he wasn’t talking to you like usual. No hands or eyes all over you—nothing! 

You remove your hands away from him.

“Yoongi, don’t you want to relax with me for a little bit?”

It was obvious you were pouting again—you can just hear it as you spoke.

“Can’t, baby. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He didn’t even bother to glance over at you or complain how you removed your hand from his head. 

“Not even just for a little?”

You hear him exhale, the small action enough to make your heart sink just a little.

“Baby, I’m a little busy. Go lay in my bed and rest for me over there, yeah? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Now that definitely hurt.

He didn’t even take a look at you again! Not one glance.

Without a word, you sat on his bed. Eventually you quietly lay down, taking your phone out to scroll through your apps even though you’d much prefer to be talking or hanging out with Yoongi. 

The silence and sound of his lecture videos and the small scratches of his pencil on his paper echos in the room.

Who would have thought you’d ever see Yoongi ignoring you or not be all over you when you’re in the same room as him?

You immediately got to thinking.

And it hit you.

You toss your phone somewhere on the bed, getting up and making your way to Yoongi. You stood next to him, watching the way he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. He sits there silently, carefully watching his lecture. When you see the right moment, you turn his chair a bit towards you, giving you enough room to squeeze your way through and sit on his lap while facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Baby—,” he sighs, “I told you I’m busy right now. I can’t have you on me like this.”

“But babyyy I miss youuu,” you whined, “can’t I get a recharge?”

You notice him completely freeze, slowly taking in what just happened—it was the first time in forever where you didn’t call him by his name.

You mentally smirk to yourself.

Now that’s what you were waiting for. 

He swallows hard, keeping his composure. 

“Yeah?” He hums, “I have the test tomorrow and I’m trying to get a good grade on it. If I let you sit here with me, you gotta promise me that you won’t distract me. This test means a lot to me. Got that, baby?”

You tighten your hold around him, nestling your head against the side of his neck. You nod your head at his words. Not because you agree or that you’d promise to follow his conditions. It was just for the sake of his sanity.

He clears his throat, hitting the play button and grabbing his pencil to continue scribbling down notes or whatever. 

Everything was pissing you off at the moment. 

You missed his hands being all over you and the way he’d fight his way to steal another kiss from you while you’re trying to push him away because he was always greedy for more. You wanted him to be annoyingly head over heels for you while you try to be nonchalant about it. And it’s also crazy to think that it’s only been a couple days and you’re acting like this over Yoongi not showing you the same attention as usual.

You give it some time. Patiently waiting until you thought it was time to get him all riled up—and then maybe he might just pay more attention to you. But being extremely patient at this moment is a pain in the ass, and you knew you didn’t want to drag this on forever. You move around on top of his lap, trying to somewhat grind against him as you pretend to get yourself more comfortable. You move your face closer to his neck, nuzzling your head on the top of his shoulder. You softly exhale, allowing your breath to hit and tickle his neck. 

Nothing. No reaction. 

You place your soft lips against his skin, giving him very light kisses on the same spot.

He slightly tilts his neck away without a word, causing you to huff in annoyance. You immediately bring your lips to his neck again, placing slow and gentle kisses on the side of his neck that instead lead to a spot under his ear and along his jawline.

He groans, clearly enjoying your actions but conflicted with the need to resist the temptation of you.

“Baby,” is all he says, voice sharp and stern. 

You pull away, sitting up straight to face him. 

“Enough.”

You could tell on his face that he was being serious.

Well..trying to. And it was cute—which is why he wasn’t as successful with intimidating you.

You roll your eyes at him, making your way towards him to pepper his jawline with kisses.

“But I miss youu,” you mumbled against his skin, making your way to his ear.

“…and I want you so bad, babyyy.”

You hear him mumble a “fuckin’ hell” under his breath and his hands creep underneath your thighs. He’s picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck tightly. In no time, you feel your back hit against the bed. You watch him adjust himself so that he’s eye level with you as he hovers above you. Just by the look of his dark eyes, you knew you were in for it. 

“Yoongi—,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He hums, voice rough. 

The atmosphere around him felt different this time. It was just hard to point out what it was. Nevertheless, you brushed it off. As desperate this may sound, you were finally getting what you wanted and you’re not going to let anything get in the way. All you wanted right now was him because—fuck—you miss him. 

“Please—,” you mumble.

It felt embarrassing to be underneath him like this with his hungry eyes beaming at you—and that’s all he’s been doing for the past how many minutes that felt like an eternity. You watch his eyes flicker from your eyes and down to your lips, clearly tempted to just devour you then and there but he doesn’t. He shifts in his position, bringing his right thigh in between your legs and pressed against your crotch, giving you the opportunity to grind against him—cuz fuck, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be touched—you needed him to do something to help you get some relief but he didn't do anything.

He watches you carefully. The way your eyes flutter shut and open slowly as you attempt to grind against his thigh, begging for him to do something.  God, you were just so fucking tempting. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he brings his head to the side of your neck, peppering a messy line of light kiss along it. He leads the trail up towards the side of your jaw, almost mimicking exactly what you were doing earlier. Once he makes it to the spot underneath the lobe of your ear he pulls away.

“What do you want, princess?” He softly speaks into your ear. 

The sound of his voice and the way his breath hits your skin already sends shivers down your spine. It was really just the effect he had on you, and he never failed to make you feel this way. Your mind was already drunk off him, words also didn’t seem to want to come out of your mouth.

He removes his thigh away from you and sits up, getting another good look at you before he lowers himself more till he becomes face-to-face with your abdomen as he lays in between your legs. He lifts up the oversized hoodie you wore, but only exposing your tummy. From there, he started to place slow and soft kisses from below your chest and leading down to underneath your belly button. These actions were making you go crazy—maybe it has been too long since you’ve been touched this way by Yoongi.

He stops giving your tummy kisses when he reaches the spot under your belly button, making you whine out a little “please”.

“Mmm?” He hums, looks up at you as he sits back up to admire you. “What baby? You want me to go further, don’t you?”

You nod at him, your eyes telling him that you need more.

He gives you a lopsided smile before bringing his head to the side of yours, his lips slightly grazing the shape of your ear.

“I don’t fuck just anyone anymore, remember? My girlfriend is the only person I ever want to fuck.” 

What a damn smart ass.

He’s already pulling away chuckling before you could wrap yourself around him to keep him on top of you.

“Whaat?!” You whined, “—but Yoongi!”

He’s laying in between your legs, arms wrapped around your hips as he nuzzles the side of his head on your tummy. You watch him get comfortable and his breathing slows. 

“Yoongi,” you gently pat his head in annoyance.

Silence.

“Yoongi, wake up,” you huff.

Nothing.

The exhaustion finally caught up to him and made this man fall asleep on you just like that.

You grumble to yourself in annoyance—a perfectly good plan gone to waste. You do your best to shove him off you (of course it took a couple tries). Once you finally got him off you, you took your needy ass home.

That was just it.

Hoseok could deal with this man when he gets home!

—

You honestly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in this position right now. The Yoongi you were seeing now was a complete 180 from the one you were dealing with yesterday.

“What’s with the little outfit you have underneath your hoodie, princess? Were you already expecting me to come over?”

His smile is cheeky, the thought of you waiting for him to come home in that outfit got him smiling like crazy. 

Fuck—it  made him way too happy.

You hum, carefully picking out your words.

“I was going to film something.”

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and his imaginary tail starts to wag. “as a congratulatory gift, huh?” 

“That… or a ‘sorry-you-failed-you’ll-get-it-next-time’ gift,” you chuckle.

He scoffs at your words.

“You thought I wouldn’t pass?”

“I mean there was a possibility, wasn’t there, Yoongi?”

He chuckles, bringing his eyes from you down to your thighs.

“You don’t get it, baby,” he hums, fingers lightly grazing down your thigh, “you told me you’d be all mine if I passed this exam.” He pauses, removing his fingers from your thigh and brings his face closer to your skin, pressing chaste kisses that lead up to your inner thigh. He gently bites down, earning a little yelp from you.

Yoongi sits up to face you eye-to-eye again, admiring the annoyed look on your cute face yet there was a slight shift in his demeanor.

“There’s no way I’d ever want to lose to a prize like that, baby. And even if I weren’t able to pass that exam, you know damn well that I’ll make sure to make you want to be mine.”

He stares at you, mentally undressing you causing him to lick his lips. The way he looked at you made you feel small, despite his eyes flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, and to your bare legs. It suddenly felt embarrassing to be wearing such an outfit under a hoodie while being in front of Yoongi. 

As if he could sense your feelings, he gets off the bed and grabs your swivel chair from your desk, placing it right in front of the end of the bed. He takes a seat, leaning back with his legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.

“Show me what you were about to film.”

“Yoongi—,” you mess with the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it down to cover yourself some more, “—you know I can’t —.”

“Show. Me.” He interrupts, words sharp. His voice was low and demanding—and you hate to admit it but it was definitely turning you on.

You swallowed hard, awkwardly clearing your throat before answering him. 

“I’m—uh—,” you croaked.

“What is it?” 

“My—um…,” you mumbled “…it’s in the drawer on your right.”

He raises an eyebrow, turning to his side to pull open the drawer of your dresser. He rummages through it without looking until he feels a particular item he can already recognize. The boy brings it out, holding it in front of him with a snicker.

“You were going to use this too?” He’s waving it around, a big smile on his face.

Your grow even more embarrassed, face flushed. You look down, avoiding his gaze as you sheepishly nod your head.

“What a treat,” he hums, “but don’t you need to prepare yourself before using your little toy?”

You lift your head up only to find him still watching you with a teasing smile. 

“Let me see how you get yourself all nice and wet, princess—then I’ll hand this over to you.”

As you’re sitting on top of your legs in a kneeling position, you bring your thighs a little closer to each other—and he immediately notices it.

He’s tipping his head upwards, giving you a signal to “go on”. 

You could just not listen to him but in all honesty, you’ve been waiting so long to become intimate with him again. And knowing him—especially from what happened the other day—he’d definitely tease the shit out of you and not give you what you want if you don’t follow his orders.

You try to brush off the nerves you were feeling, moving your legs from underneath. Your legs were spread apart, knees bent and feet on top of the bed, giving him a good view of your skimpy, sheer underwear you chose to wear today. He could already tell you were wet—just from a quick glance at your panties he’s already spotted a little wet patch.

With just your index and middle finger, you take the two digits and place them over your panties and on top of your clit, rubbing it in small and slow circles. You were already closing your eyes, throwing your head back while moaning softly. Maybe it was the effect of his presence or just him overall but you felt even more turned on than when you do this by yourself.

“Panties to the side, princess.”

You do as he says, feeling the surge embarrassment run through you, causing your face to grow hot and red. You continue to slowly rub your wet clit, with your head turned to the side as you whimper and moan all while avoiding him.

“Don’t avoid your pussy, baby. It needs some attention too,” he hums, “put a finger in.”

You look at him, biting down on your lip as you remove your fingers from your clit.

You hesitate a bit before slowly inserting your middle finger into your heat, pumping it in and out as you turn your head away from him to avoid his gaze. You bit down on your lip with enough pressure to leave indents, suppressing your moans from Yoongi.

“So good baby, you’re such a good girl.” He coos.

“Your pussy is just sucking your finger right in, princess,” he chucked, “making a whole mess just from one finger.”

You ignored his comments, torn between concentrating imagining that your fingers were his own or his cock that were filling up your pussy, or the fact that you wanted to hide yourself and your moans from the man in front of you. God, it’s embarrassing—to be exposed and to be playing with your most private part right in front of a man you were head over heels for. Yoongi, however, wasn’t having it. He thought this whole thing was the biggest turn on he’s ever had. You were the sexiest girl on earth to him, especially with the nice treat of you playing with yourself. 

“Nnnggh—ahh~!” You yelped, quickly looking down to see the man in between your legs, eyes dark as he lapped up your overflowing essence. Your movements stutter, and he takes that as an opportunity to move your hand away and replace it with his, making you a bit noisier than before. He pulls his face away, thumb playing with your clit as he keeps eye contact with you.

“There we go, baby. Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he smirks. It was easy for him to read you—he already knew that you would try to avoid his gaze. He’s tossing your pink dildo on the bed, removing his hand from your clit. He places each hand on the back of your thigh of each leg, pressing your legs against the sides of your chest and nearly folding you in half. This position was one of his favorites—he was always able to see everything while he ate you out.

He keeps a tight hold on your legs, making sure they stay in place. He switches from using a flat tongue while moving his head side to side to using just the tip of his tongue to stimulate your sensitive and erect clit before sucking it—completely indulging in all your juices that were flowing out of you. 

“W-wait!—please!” you squealed.

He has you squirming, lifting your hips in an attempt to get it away or closer to his face. The noises he made were obscene— loud slurps, low hums. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up the essence you produced. He uses that thick piece of muscle to probe at your hole, plunging it in and out of you. He buried his face into your pussy, his tongue moving around your hole as his nose brushes against your bead, allowing him to inhale the sweetest scent of you.

He loved watching the look you had on your face—cheeks brushed red, mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed. It was a sexy look—and being in this position where he had a good view of your lower half and your face could almost make him cum. He removes his hold from one leg, bringing that free hand to easily slide two fingers in you as he abuses your clit with his mouth, causing you to let out a strained gasp.

“Y-yoon…gi~!” You cried.

He hums against your clit before removing himself.

“Fuck, princess—,” he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, “—you taste so damn good.”

“Please—! Need you!”

He’s chuckling at you—thought that you looked so damn adorable that he was contemplating to tease the shit out of you or completely fuck your brains out.

“Yeah? You need my cock, huh, baby?” With his two fingers in your pussy, he uses his thumb to rub your clit, causing you to clench around him. He becomes more aggressive with his thrusting of his fingers.

“Hhhnnghh—!” You squeak, feeling yourself about to reach your high. You’re gripping onto the sheets, arching your back. Right there—it was right there. You could feel the way he was trying to get you to release. But once you almost felt that wave of pleasure, it was quickly taken away from you. Your legs shake and you clench around nothing.

“You owe me a show, princess,” the man hums, bringing the wet digits to his mouth. He spreads his two fingers apart, making a v-shape as he takes his tongue and licks around his fingers—the slick, sticky essence coating them— all while making sure to maintain eye contact with you.

“Yooonggii—,” you whined with a pout, bringing your legs together to rub your thighs against each other to feel something. “Was almost there, Yoongi~,” you mumble with a pout, innocent eyes glistening at him. 

He’s standing up as you spoke, chuckling at how desperate you looked. 

“God, you’re fucking cute.”

It was clear to him how badly you wanted him to continue. But he had to hold himself back because he just had to play around with you. The man reaches over the bed to grab the sex toy he tossed earlier, holding up to show it to you.

“I got you all ready for this, baby. Show me how you use it.”

You look at him with a flushed face, lips pouting at the fact he wasn’t going to continue what he was doing earlier. It was annoying—stopping you from cumming just because he wants to see you ride your dildo. You were hoping the pleading look on your face would change his mind—make him want to continue, but he doesn’t budge. You slightly roll your eyes at him, reposition yourself to sit up in front of him on your knees again. 

He smirks, satisfied with how well you’re listening to him even though he can see right through you. Yoongi gently tosses the dildo in front of you before taking a seat. You took the toy into your hands, holding it as if it was a foreign object to you. 

“Go on, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on you. He looked relaxed; slightly slouched against the chair with his legs manspreading. 

You huff, mustering up the courage and to mentally preparing yourself to do such a lewd act in front of him (even though the two of you have already slept with each other and seen one another naked and whatnot…). You lift yourself up, standing on your knees with them slightly spread apart. You hold the bottom of your hoodie underneath your chin, which exposes just your tummy, while you try to position the toy underneath you. You bring your panties to the side to expose yourself, brushing just the tip against your slit which makes you clench around nothing. You  slowly sink down once you feel yourself wrap around the tip. 

“Haaa~,” you gasp, tilting your head back as you sink down even further. You’re a whimpering, mumbling mess when you have it completely in you—and fuck has it been a long time since you’ve actually used it or been fucked by Yoongi. You allow yourself to get yourself adjusted.

He focuses on how your face scrunches up and how your mouth hangs open, since you’ve let go of the bottom part of your hoodie and is now covering where all the action was. 

You missed this feeling of being full that it was making you go crazy. You wanted to stay like this, but for some reason you felt like wanting to move. You lift your hips up in an attempt to have the toy just barely in you, but it doesn’t slide out of you so you sit down again.

“Your pussy isn’t letting it go, princess. You’re gripping it so tightly,” he chuckles, leaning forward so that he’s closer to you and the bed. “I’ll hold it for you, baby.”

You nod, lifting your legs up as you try to relax yourself, letting your dildo slide out and onto the bed. You stood there on your knees, waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand to the bottom of your hoodie.

“Hold this up with your mouth for me, baby. Make sure this part is the part you’re holding with your mouth”

You look at him a bit weird, not fully understanding his specific request but you do it anyway. You bring the fabric up to your mouth, now completely revealing your lingerie to him.

Ah…What a smartass.

He notices you roll your eyes at him, making him chuckle. He takes the sex toy and holds it with the base in his palm.

“Alright, baby. Go at it.” He’s positioned the dildo underneath you, waiting for you to get on it again. 

The two of you make eye contact as you slowly sink down again. You feel the tip of the toy brush against your wet folds, causing you to bite down on the fabric a little harder than before. 

Why are you more excited? Is it because of Yoongi? 

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

As you slowly slide yourself down on the dildo, you’re  immediately throwing your head back again, breaking eye contact but he continues to watch you. You feel yourself reach the end of it, only for you to immediately raise your hips and again to slowly start moving up and down. You find a rhythm as you bounce on the toy, your hands finding their way to massage your breasts, massaging them with the lingerie still on as your moans are slightly muffled from the fabric in your mouth. 

“Look at you playing with yourself. You look so sexy, princess. You were going to film something like this for me, right baby?” He hums, reaching over in his pocket to take out his phone. He opens up the camera app, tilting his phone upwards to get the whole view of you and starts to record you. “I'll help you and be your cameraman—look at the camera, princess.”

At first he gets a shot of all of you—you glancing down at him and the camera with a flushed face before quickly throwing your head back, hands grabbing at your own breast over the sheer fabric covering them, your hips moving on its own as you bounced up and down. He then pans the camera to your pussy swallowing up your dildo.

“Yeah, keep moving like that, baby. You’re making such a creamy mess on your dildo like a good girl. You’re gripping so hard—fuck, baby,” he groans lowly.

He watches the way all your overflowing juices were pooling at the base of the dildo and makes sure to get a good shot of it before tossing it to the side.

“Take the hoodie off, baby.”

You do as he says, tossing the fabric somewhere on the floor. He takes in the way you looked in the skimpy piece of clothing you wore underneath. 

God, you blew him away. 

You were just so. damn. beautiful. 

The white made you look heavenly—angelic, actually. And the lacey, sheer fabric that covered you wasn’t necessary at this point, but damn did it do a good job at catching his eye. The set you had on also had some frills on it, along with a little bow in the middle of your waistband and of your bra. It all suited you—it was perfectly made for you.

He literally just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

With his free hand, he caresses the curve of your waist to the curve of your hips. He takes a finger and curls it underneath the thin waistband of your panties, following it slowly until he removes it once he reached the middle of your thigh. Yoongi brings his hand up to your chest, using his index finger and thumb to pinch your erect nipple right through the sheer fabric.

“Haaahh~,” you stutter in your movements, letting out an airy moan.

God, he needed you so bad.

He takes the hand that is holding your dildo, flicking his wrist upwards, causing you to fall forwards and pause your movements. He slides your dildo back out, only just to slam it back in and keep it at a steady pace—fucking you with your dildo as you stay still leaning over him. His free hand goes to the side of your ass, helping you stay up.

“Yoongi—!” You whine, your arms making its way to link behind the man’s neck. Your chest is nearly pressed against his face, giving him the opportunity to grab a mouthful of your breast. 

The man encases your hard nipple through the fabric in his mouth, biting down on it enough to get another moan of his name out of your mouth.

“Nnnghh~!” You squeal, pulling him closer to you. 

He then begins to suck on your nipple, toying with the metal bar that’s pierced right through it. With how sheer the fabric is, he’s practically sucking on you rather than the fabric.

Your legs begin to shake as he starts to pick up the pace with your dildo. You could feel that high again, the same feeling you felt earlier when he was eating you out like a goddamn monster.

“Yoongi!” You chant with your mouth slightly hung open, “please! Right there—!”

He’s slamming the dildo inside you, filing you all the way. He’s hitting the spot that made you roll your eyes backwards, your mouth hanging open and spewing nonsense.

He removes himself from your breast, pulling back to take a look at your face, admiring how sexy you are. God—he can’t get over you.

“Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” he mumbles lowly, “lose yourself already.”

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you on your dildo while the other hand has it sliding in and out of you. He brings his lips to your collarbone, trailing kisses towards and up your neck.

You breathe heavily, mouth hung wide open as pleasure takes over you. It almost felt like you were being fucked by him, but it was nearly enough. 

“Yoongi—yoongi!” You chant before losing yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to your heart pound crazy while you catch your breath. 

“Good job, baby, you did so good.” He kisses the side of your head, slowly removing the dildo from your pussy, earning a little whine from you.

He lets you sit down on his clothed lap, your wetness probably leaving marks on his sweats. At this point, you could most definitely feel how hard he was right now. You lift your head up and look at him with fucked out eyes. Your hands were clasped behind his neck, while his hands rested on your waist.

You grind yourself against his hard erection, hoping he gets the hint that you wanted him now instead of having you beg for it.

The corner of his mouth lifts up to a small smirk.

He’s lifting you up as he gets you both off the bed. He’s turning around, gently bringing you down on top of the bed.

“Lie down for me, baby,” his voice low.

He gets a view of you again in your sexy lingerie. Yes, this fucking sexy ass lingerie—god, all the mental photos he has of you will definitely be on repeat in his mind. He didn’t want to remove it. I mean—it would be a waste if he had to. Just the look of you in such a pretty yet skimpy outfit made him go crazy. 

You attempt to be quick with closing your legs again, keeping some modesty. However, he was able to beat you by bringing his hands on either of your legs and pushing them slightly down to keep you wide open for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles under his breath as he salivates at the look of your body. You grew embarrassed again, having the urge to shut your legs to cover you up but Yoongi was too strong for you.

“Can you tell me what you want next, baby?”

You already knew he was going to tease you—actually he probably just wanted to hear those words come right out of your mouth. It would be music to his ears.

“Yoongi, please…,” you mumble, “don’t you want to fuck me?” You give him the most innocent doe eyes that you could, hoping he could lose himself already.

He chuckles.

“Of course, princess,” he brings himself closer to you, taking his painful erection and grinds himself against your slick, teasing your little hole. “You want me to fuck you like this? With my clothes on? It’s making such a mess on my pants, baby.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head no. You wanted more, and you know that he knows that already.

“Thought so,” he hums. “Be specific, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”

You hesitate a bit, but his teasing was enough to make you more upfront with what you wanted.

“Take your clothes off too, Yoongi.”

“Mmm…were you feeling alone?”

“Extremely, Yoongi”

He chuckles as he removes every piece of his clothing from his body, tossing it wherever in the room.

“Can’t let my baby feel that way,” he hums.

Your eyes go from his to below his waist, watching him slowly remove his boxers and revealing his cock. It was thick and long, an angry red at the tip with a bit of precum oozing out. 

Your hand gravitates towards it, holding it by the base and squeezing it a little. You completely forgot how big and girthy he was. As you slide your hand up and down his cock, you got him lowly groaning while you thought to yourself about whether or not this thing could fit in you again. But fuck—you wanted him so bad. 

“…please Yoongi,” you remove your hand from his cock, looking up at him, “fuck me already.”

He’s smiling, bringing his cock closer to your core. He takes his thumb to push his cock on top of your slit, and keeps it there. He slides himself back and forth, coating himself with your slick, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.

You let out a little whine from his touch. 

“Want your cock inside me, Yoongi,” you mumble.

He’s leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, his facing hovering yours.

“It’s all yours, baby.”

He’s leans in again to steal a passionate kiss from you, while he slowly pushes his cock inside your soaked hole. You slightly pull away from him, your mouth hanging open, spewing out soft moans as he fills you up. 

He gives you the chance to get used to him being inside you. And fuck, did he miss your fucking pussy. 

He pulls his hips back, letting you miss the feeling of him filling you up before he slams himself right back into you again.

“Haaah~! Yoongi!” You say breathlessly. Your hands crawl to hold the sides of his face, as he continues to leave a trail of scattered kisses from the side of your neck and down to your chest. He’s pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing you before he latches on to your pierced nipple. 

He starts to pick up the pace as he thrusts into you; finally leaving your breasts alone with hickies that mark you as his. He stands straight to look down at you, watching you writhing underneath him. He pulls the other cup to your bra to expose the other perky and pierced breast. His eyes mesmerized by the face you were making as you were getting fucked by him, your tight pussy sucking him right up, and your tits bouncing everywhere—god it felt like they made him even harder.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he grunts as he thrusts into you, “you’re all mine, huh?”

You let out little more whimpers and moans, unable to make out any sentences. He chuckles, wanting to see you lose more of yourself. He lifts your leg and puts it over your shoulder, wanting to penetrate you even deeper. He takes his right thumb and gives it a quick lick with his tongue before placing it right on your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Nnnggh—ah! Yoongi!” You yelp.

“My pretty girl. You take me in so well, huh?”

He watches you let out louder moan, realizing that his cock grazed your most sensitive spot.

He’s snapping his hips hard against you. He lifts his knee up to place it on the bed, angling himself so that he could continuously hit that spot that had you rolling your eyes back. He presses down on your clit harder, torturing it with quick and small tracings of a circle.

You’re mumbling nonsense, spewing out whatever came out of your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, making him let out another groan.

He looks down at the area where you two were connected, admiring the creamy mess you were making on his dick. His eyes wander upwards to your heavenly body. Then up to your cute face, making all kinds of sounds as he pounded you—God, he’s actually going insane, he was grunting with every thrust. 

“W-wait! Haahnngh~! Yoongi!” You bring a hand to his abdomen, weakly trying to push him away as he’s drilling himself inside of you. 

“Please!” You whined, “s-something’s coming out!” 

A soft smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he watches yours—mouth hung open, nonsense whining. You were writhing underneath him, trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t let you. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before putting more strength into his thrusts.

“Yoongi!” You yelped, letting out helpless whines as you can feel yourself about to reach your high. 

Your hands wrap around his back, your sharp nails scratching him enough to show red lines and possibly make him bleed. 

He gives a final thrust, causing you to squirt all over his pelvis area and onto the bed when he removes himself from your hole.

“Fuck…,” he grumbles under his breath.

He watches your chest move up and down, eyes closed as you’re still trying to recover from what just happened.

“You made a fucking mess, baby. You squirted all over me.”

Your eyes shot open, propping yourself up with your elbows to look down at what you did.

“I just…?” You lay yourself down again, covering your eyes in humiliation. It’s the first time you’ve done that before. “Yoongi—this is so embarrassing,” you whined.

“Embarrassing?” He’s leaning forward to kiss the back of your hands before gently removing them away from your face, eyes now on him. “That was sexy as fuck, baby.”

He’s lifting you to sit you up before he carries you again. He sits first on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap while facing forward. Right in front of you, you had a view of the two of your naked, sweaty bodies. Hickies scatter across your chest, your legs spread apart and glistening from you making the biggest mess. You feel your cheeks grow red from looking at yourself.

He helps remove your sheer, lace bra off. His hands roam around until they glide up and down the sides of your waist.

“Look how sexy you are, baby. So, so fucking sexy.”

He’s tapping on the side of your ass, signaling for you to lift your bottom just a bit, which you did, as he helps you remove your panties. He holds his cock up, and helps you guide your hips to it. You slowly slide down on his cock, fully taking him whole, causing you to let out a shaky moan.

“Bring your feet up, baby.”

You do it, placing one foot on either side of him and near the edge of the bed. He has his chest against your back, an arm holding your waist to keep you steady while his other hand is pushed against the bed behind him to hold him up.

“Bounce for me, princess. And keep your eyes on the mirror. Need you to see what I see when I fuck you.”

You bite down on your lip, looking at him through the mirror and he tips his head again telling you to “go on”. You slowly lift your hips up, feeling somewhat empty without his cock in you, until you drop yourself down on him. The fullness had you moaning out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“I told you to watch yourself, didn’t I?”

You keep a steady pace on his cock, your eyes closed and mouth hanging open again.

“…too embarrassing—,” you moan.

He scoffs, annoyed with your response. He wanted you to see how you looked—how your body reacts when you have his cock stuffed inside of you. He wasn’t going to let that answer slide.

The man hooks his arms under the back of your knees, carrying you while he keeps himself in you. Your eyes flash open when you feel yourself in the air.

“W-wait! Yoongi!” Your hands go to your face to cover your eyes. You lay your back more against him to keep yourself from falling forward.

He’s moving you on his cock with no difficulties. He has you bouncing up and down, while you’re still trying to process what’s going on.

“Look at how much of a slut you fucking look like, princess,” his voice low and gravely. 

The contrast of his words turn you on. Peaking through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of your glistening, naked body. 

“Remove them, now.”

You swallow hard, finally facing yourself. Your eyes wander, watching the way your pussy took in your boyfriend’s cock, how you were making such a damn mess on it, the way your perky breasts bounced around while he thrusted upwards into your pussy. It was all so vulgar—a dirty scene that came out of a porno.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. This is the view that I get—andI’m the only one who gets to have this view.”

Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about watching yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more turned on. Who knew you could make such a dirty yet sexy expression?

You’re furrowing your eyebrows, mouth hung open as you whimper and moan. Your hand travels down to your lower abdomen, holding it there to feel a slight bulge whenever Yoongi pushes himself in you. It was actually insane to you to be able to feel and see this.

“Go lower, baby. Play with yourself.”

Your hand slowly inches lower, grazing your skin. You take a finger and draw small, slow circles on your clit. You watch yourself through the mirror, your eyes flickering to watch your scrunched up face to how Yoongi was pounding your pussy while you played with your swollen, sensitive bead.

“Fuck—that’s it baby. You listen so well,” he grunts. 

He adjusts his hold under you, making it more comfortable for him to slide you in and out of him while he fucks you harder underneath. He was basically doing bicep curls at this point—his muscles were nearly on fire but he couldn’t care any less.

“More pressure baby.”

You follow his commands, and you have yourself throwing your head back again as you lose yourself. Your sensitive clit makes your hips shake, causing you to squeeze tightly around him. You hear Yoongi slightly growl in your ear, going crazy because of you. 

“You’re milking my cock so hard—you want my cum that bad, huh?” His voice was gruff.

He holds you a bit lower, stopping his little bicep curls and instead continues to fuck you from underneath at a faster pace and with more forceful thrusts.

“Ngggh—ahh~!” You yelp from the change in speed.

“Don’t fucking remove your fingers. Keep playing with yourself.”

You were nearly seeing stars again. You couldn’t think straight. But you could feel that same feeling you felt earlier, and you knew you just couldn’t hold that knot in your stomach anymore.

“F—fuck! Yoongi! Ah—!” You cried, “cumming!”

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Lose yourself already.” 

He’s thrusting you with all the power he can, while his face was stuck on watching your reaction on your airbrushed slightly red face. 

Soon, he's pulling out of your slippery, wet hole. Your mouth makes an “o” shape, before crying out Yoongi’s name as you orgasm again.  Your body fluids shot out of you and coating the mirror—and you squirt again, just as he was wanting to get you to do. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you were trying to catch your breath. You could feel your hips still twitching from being so sensitive. This was something you’ve never experienced before. 

He’s kissing the side of your head, mumbling sweet words. He gently lays you back down on the bed on your back, allowing you some time to relax for a bit. You can feel the mix of his and your fluids seeping out of your hole, dripping down to your other puckered hole.

Your eyes flutter open and they couldn’t help but take a quick scan at the naked man’s body that stood in front of you. As you look lower, you can’t help but notice that his cock was still painfully hard, standing up straight with a slight curve to it.

He towers over you, watching every small movement you make. Although he was being sweet to give you some time to rest, by the look he was making you could tell he was hungrily waiting for the next round. He licks his lips as a lazy smile forms on his face as your eyes finally meet.

“Yoongi…,” you mumble. Your hand makes its way to his length, wrapping your fingers around it. Your essence still coats him, making it slippery enough for you to slowly stroke his cock. You look up at him with half-lided eyes.

He lowly groans in pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before bringing it back to look at you.

“Mmm…yes, baby?” 

“All that fucking and you’re still so hard?”

He’s laughing, an odd thing to do when someone is giving you a handjob. 

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Yeah?” You hum, slowing your movements. 

He takes his hand and wraps it around yours, helping you pump his cock before he starts to guide it to your slit. The two of you drag the tip against your wet folds.

“Looks like it’s the same for you too, baby. You’re fucking wet again.” He’s pushing himself into you again, the two of you letting go of his cock. He slowly sinks in, getting a little whimper out of you.

“All that fucking and you’re still clenching onto me so tightly, baby. You really love my cock inside you, huh?”

He’s pulling out, still keeping the tip in, before he thrusts back into you. 

“Mmmph~! F-fuck…! Yesss, Yoongi.”

He’s chuckling again, keeping his pace steady.

“Yeah?” He hums, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your thigh to keep it steady. Taking his free hand, he uses it to press firmly against your lower abdomen. You’re mumbling nonsense again from this new feeling of pleasure.

“God—I fucking love you,” he grunts, bringing your other leg over his shoulder. He’s leaning against you, practically folding your body in half just to reach you even deeper. This position had you rolling your eyes back, reaching for any body part of him to dig your fingernails into his skin. Yoongi would switch it up at times—from giving you fast yet shorter strokes to taking his sweet time as he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slowly bring himself back in. However, he made it his goal to make sure every thrust was sharp enough to bruise your cervix. 

Your mouth hangs open, nothing but airy moans escaping from it with every thrust he makes. He brings his face to yours, using this opportunity to probe his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances along with yours before he captures it in his mouth. He’s sucking on it, eliciting more moans from you but he removes himself to swallow them. You pull away to catch your breath, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.

“Gonna…cum—,” you mumble under your breath. 

Yoongi huffs, giving you small pecks on the sides of your mouth. He really didn’t need you to let him know. He could already tell by the way your insides were clamping onto him. 

He’s quickly removing himself from you, denying your orgasm. The man watches your hips move in desperation, your hole spasming around nothing as he helps you rest your legs on the bed.

“Yoongiii—hnngh…,” you cried, voice whiney. “So mean,” you quietly mumble.

He smirks at your words.

Without any word, he rolls you onto your stomach. The man lifts your hips upwards to have your ass sticking up and spreads your legs apart. He pushes the upper portion of your body against the mattress, your arms cushion your head as you lay there. With his large hand, he presses on the small of your back, helping you with a deeper arch. 

“Beg for my cock, baby.”

You turn your head around to look back at him, shaking your head in disagreement while he has you in this position.

His left eyebrow lifts up and a dark chuckle escapes his lips.

“You were behaving so well earlier, princess.” He hums, taking his dick and running it through your wet folds to collect your arousal. “Now you want to be a brat?”

“Don’t want to beg anymore,” you mumble.

He scoffs. “So should I end it here?”

“Go ahead. I’ll find someone else who could do a better job then. They would let me cum.”

He smacks the sides of your ass, getting a yelp out of you.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Maybe I can call up this one guy—.”

He grasps the sides of your ass, spreading them apart to reveal your needy pink, dripping hole. He slowly sinks into you, causing you to let out a shaky moan. Yoongi keeps still inside of you, making sure you’re taking in all of him.

“You only need me, baby—your fucking boyfriend. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way and get you to cum.”

He can’t help but absolutely hate the sound and the thought of you with another man. It drove him crazy just hearing you mention “some other guy”.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, little moans coming out of you as being stuffed with his dick made you go dumb in the head.

“—Yoongi—ngggh—! Move!”

He lifts your hips higher, pressing the small of your back to get you to arch your back more. He leans over you, his pelvis pressed against your ass, making you feel his dick even further in you, causing you to let out a swear. He leaves gentle kisses on the back of your naked shoulder.

“Say please,” he mumbles into your skin.

“F—fuck, Yoongi!” You grumble, annoyed at his words.

He waits patiently, letting his silence and your soft whimpers fill the air. The man couldn’t care less if he had to stay in the position for hours—he loved the feeling of your soft, warm, and wet pussy pulsating around him. 

And with that, you knew you couldn’t win.

 “—Please—!” You cry out. 

“Remind me who I am again.”

“—boyfriend!” You quickly spat out, desperate for him to move already.

“You gonna be a good girl for me again?”

You’re quick to nod your head ‘yes’.

He grins at your response, happy with how easy he can get you to be submissive when you’re full of his cock.

“Now was that so hard to do, princess?”

He’s pulling out, just the tip barely in you.

“…annoying,” you mumble under your breath.

He slams himself into you again, causing you to moan out his name.

“Yeah? I’m annoying too, huh? A big mean, annoying boyfriend, right?”  His voice was low and gravelly.

He starts to find a rhythm and pace as he starts to pound your pussy. Snapping his hips to make sure his skin hits against yours as loud and as hard as he can, the noises filling the room and the skin of your ass slowly turning a shade of red.

He’s searching for your dildo that was thrown somewhere nearby. Once he finds it, he’s immediately taking it. He leans over you as he fucks you, placing the dildo in front of you. Yoongi halts his movements, removing himself from you.

“Yoongi~,” you whine, swaying your ass side to side. You push your hips back, trying to find him so you could reconnect again.

God, this view—this scenario. It’s all he could easily get used to.

“C’mon, baby you can’t be doing that to me,” he slightly groans, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“Please,” you mumble, bringing your hands behind you. You place one hand on the sides of your ass, gently spreading it apart so that Yoongi has a better view of your weeping hole. You turn your head to look back at him as you hold yourself in this position, swaying your ass side to side. “Please go crazy and fuck me already, Yoongi.”

What a fucking invite.

“Fuck,” he hissed, running his hand through his wet hair. He could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, making him painfully harder. His mind went damn blank just from hearing you say that while being in such a pornographic position. 

You seriously knew how to turn him on. 

How fucking dangerous.

He’s bringing himself closer to you, rubbing his erect cock in between your ass, allowing it to slide back and forth. It gets you impatient, causing you to wiggle your ass again as he continues with his movements.

“Be a good girl and keep that dildo in your mouth while I fuck you, alright princess?” He gives the side of your ass another gentle slap as a form of encouragement.

Yoongi patiently waits for you to start bobbing your head, along with the vulgar slurping noises you obnoxiously made.

Did you really enjoy having that dildo inside your mouth when he was right behind you?

He mentally scoffs out of jealousy, knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. 

You became louder with your muffled moans once Yoongi was inside of you again, making those dumb thoughts disappear. The view of you being filled up both way clearly made him way too hard—he was instantly fucking you at a brutal pace, almost as if he hasn’t touched you in ages.

He’s rougher this time; using one hand to gather your hair and make a makeshift ponytail just to wrap it around his hand to help you guide your head along your dildo while the other free hand is gripping the side of your ass as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. Sucking on your dildo while I fuck you senseless, just like a pretty little slut you are.” 

His thrusts had more force to them, your skin turning redder than before. He wanted to demolish you, make you melt underneath him. All you could do was hum into your dildo in pleasure, holding onto the base for dear life. You could feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes whenever your dildo would reach deeper in your throat, causing you to gag on it. Of course, Yoongi thought all of this was sexy. God, it was fucking sexy.

He found that one spot again that has your mind spinning. The man angles himself so that he kept hitting that spot over and over again.

You immediately pull away from your dildo, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth.

“Y-yoongi—!” You yelped, your hands let go of the dildo after you toss it to the side, now gripping onto the sheets.

He releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to the front of your neck to pull you up and your back arched against him, changing the position again. The other hand around your waist to keep you steady.

Yoongi brings the side of his head to yours.

“Not gonna let you get away from me,” his gravely voice whispers against your ear—and god did that send tingles down your spine.

The pressure of his hand around your neck was pleasurable enough to keep you lightheaded. However that hand goes to toy with your breasts, fiddling with piercing and pinching your nipple before taking a big handful of your breast to massage it as he fucked you.

He finally brings his hand to your front, pressing his two fingers against your swollen and sensitive bead. You feel your hips twitch, unable to control your body movements. All you could feel in this moment was how hard the two of your heartbeats were and pure ecstasy. This man knew how to fuck. Scratch that—he knew how to fuck you. He’s already memorized what had you throwing your head back, what’s got you clenching so damn tightly around him, or what has you babbling nonsense just from fucking you a couple times.

“Yoon—gi! Haaah~!” You turn your head to the side and towards him. He brings his face to yours, attacking your lips again before you pull away a moaning mess.

“Fuck—you take me in so goddamn good, baby,” he grunts, “you wanna cum, huh, baby?”

You’re nodding your head, feeling yourself nearly on the brink of losing yourself again. He’s just about bruised your cervix enough and made your damn clit so swollen and sensitive to touch. You knew you were already making a mess around his dick.

He moves his hand away from your breast and around your waist again, embracing you and holding you tightly for what’s yet to come. Your arms hold onto his arm with one of your hands interlocking with his, a gesture that had him feeling like his heart grew 10x in size. He loves you. He’s way too in love with you—head over heels at this point.

If it was even possible, he’s fucking you even harder. Grunting into your ear, telling you how good you are, how damn pretty you are—how fucking perfect you are, practically made just for him. It was all enough for you to finally lose it, and it was the same for him too. He’s groaning in pleasure when he feels your pussy twitching around him. His warm cum coats the inside of your walls before it oozes out when he removes himself. You fall forward and lay against the bed with your arms weakly holding you up. He watches the mixture of your cum slowly dripping out before he takes his two fingers to push it right back in, only for it to slip out again. He’s quick to get the kleenex tissues to wipe you up, letting you have some time to  catch your breath. You’re rolling over to finally lay down on your side, watching the boy walk through the door.

“I went ahead and got the bath running, baby,” he hums, helping you sit back up. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“You’re insane, Yoongi.”

“Am I?” He lazily smiles.

“I really don’t know what possessed you back there.”

He laughs, “Baby, I haven’t had a taste of you like that in so damn long. I couldn’t help it.” 

Before you knew it, he had you relaxing in the bathtub while he cleaned up the room and got it ready with new sheets and all for the two of you to get some rest. 

—

You could feel Yoongi’s body pressed against your back; his arm sitting across your waist and his head nuzzled against the back of your head. This was all something you had never imagined for yourself—to be lovingly cuddled like this after a long night with your now boyfriend who was an ex “fuckboy” from your school, but it’s definitely something you could get used to. 

You carefully remove yourself from his hold, quickly replacing yourself with one of your pillows. You glance over at him to see his sleeping figure one last time before leaving, and softly scoff with a smile on your face. 

This man is actually very cute when he’s sound asleep.

You quietly pick out some new clothes before tip-toeing away to your bathroom across the hall to get yourself ready for that well-deserved shower.

-

After putting on your clothes, you open the bathroom door, letting all the moisture and heat out. You take the time to gently brush your hair a little more after blow drying it, then applying some hair oil to the ends of it.

“You can’t just leave me like that and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your head quickly turns around to see the mumbling boy, squinting a half-asleep eye at you while using one of their fists to rub one of their other eye. You chuckle at his appearance—his naked torso and his boxers. He stood there in between the door frame, looking like an actual child who just woke up.

“It was just a quick shower, babe.” You turn around to the mirror and continue what you were doing. “I’ll be in the room soon.”

He grunts, making his way towards you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and lays his head on top of your shoulder.

“Yoongi~,” you whined with a soft chuckle. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s only allowed in bed.”

“Mm, so last night was just it, huh?”

He snorts with a chuckle at your comment, barely having enough energy to react a lot bigger.

“‘One time’ my ass. You’re stuck with me. Not letting you off that easy.”

He turns to your head and presses kisses to your hair. You bring a hand up to gently pat the side of his cheek.

“Congrats on passing the class,” you mumble, “and for finally getting that boyfriend title you’ve been wanting.”

Yoongi turns to look at you with a big smile on his face through the mirror, your hand gently caressing the side of his face. The two of you turn to each other, pressing a small kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“I know a better way you could congratulate me.”

You immediately knew exactly what he was hinting.

“You told me you’d give me whatever I want plus the boyfriend title.”

Fuck—yeah, you did promise that.

You sigh in defeat.

“…Breakfast first?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him that doe-eyed look that made his heart flutter like crazy.

He looks at you with so much adoration, in awe that this beautiful girl was finally his. 

-

if you got this far, thank you for the read <3 :)

i hope you enjoyed!! pls check out my other work!

[livin4woso]

Silent until spoken too-(arsenal x adhd! Reader)

Summary- growing up reader has always been told that they talk too much or too loud so when transferring to a new team they decide to take a new approach dont speak unless spoken too. Yet it only takes the young aussie to break the readers doubts and the rest of the team follow in persuit.

It was a fresh start for you but this time you need to make a good impression. The words of your mother rang in your thoughts,'no one likes the loud girl' it was something as much as you tried to explain she never understood your talkative behaviour or uncontrollable volume when you speak.

It was when you were 18 that you were finally diagnosed with adhd it was like a weight lifted of your shoulders that you never knew you were carrying to begin with. Knowing this information gave you clarity of why you did certain things yet you still could never justify them and you let the words of ignorant others to swirl in your mind.

Don't be the loud annoying one. Instead, be the opposite. Be silent until spoken too.

The first day of training had arrived quickly and you sat and hyped yourself up in your car to get all of your pent up energy out as you couldn't get rid of it by talking someones ear off then you had to do it some other way. You made your way into the changing room to be introduced to all the sqaud, which was relatively quick and filled with hand shakes and a few hi's and normal chat.

Until you reached the young aussie midfielder, she was a little bit older than you as you were just freshly 20, and she was 22, but there was something different about her a welcoming energy. "Hi, im kyra, but you probably know that.. wait, unless you didnt sorry i shouldn't assume" the words tumble out her mouth at rapid pace yet too you it was the perfect speed. "Hi im y/n nice to meet you" you say back holding your hand out "also i do know that you're kyra so don't worry" you reply letting go of her hand before making your way to your cubby to put on your boots.

Training began, and the negative thoughts still swirled in your mind each time you began to get more talking, which caused you to shut down into silence again, giving people one or two word answers. Yet eachtime you were with kyra you forgot all those doubts and it was if she just knew how to make you talk.

As you walked into lunch the words speeding out your mouth as fast as they could and your conversation getting gradually louder without you realising until one of the older girls commented "y/n can you stop shouting please the person you're talking to is right next to you not a mile away" lia said not meaning any harm but it sends you spiraling that if one person thinks that then soon enough everyone else will "oh right yeah im sorry" you respond in barley over a whisper while toying with the braclet on your wrist.

"Erm im sorry I'll leave you be now you probably want to talk to your other friends" you say to kyra with a forced smile as your thoughts consume you "no its okay come sit with us im sure they would love you and i like listening to you its fun" she said grabbing your hand and dragging you to the table where lessi and vic sat so there wasn't much of a choice.

Dinner was great, and it felt like you could speak without worrying that you are talking too much. Then came something slightly worse there was a pre training meeting which was going to cover what you were doing for the next couple weeks and important dates. Its not that you hate meetings but trying to sit still for so long without irritating the person next to you was the challenge.

The meeting dragged. Well, for you, it did that one hour felt like a year and of course being new you were sat right at the front next to kim and leah so you had to be on your best behavior. It started off okay. You could focus when jonas was talking, then you heard the clock tick, and that was all you could focus on. Then, about 20 minutes in your legs started bouncing, but that wasn't enough, so you started playing the finger drums on your thigh until kim gave you a death stare from next to you. After 40 minutes you'd zoned out completely just staring at the board as you let your thoughts wander you knew you shouldn't have but you couldn't help that you either had the attention span of a goldfish or could only pay attention to one thing.

The meeting had ended, and that's when leah snapped you out of your trance by waving her hand over your face "oi y/n, were you even listening to what i was saying.. the meetings over, " she said."Oh right, yeah, my bad, sorry, I'll get ready to go home, " you said, staring up at her, but as you were about to leave the room, she stopped you.

"Look i dont know whats going on but next time you need to pay more attention you were distracted the whole time and it might just have been nerves becauses it your first day but next time just be more aware" she said in a serious tone yet it had a hint of politeness to it as she meant well. However, at this point, you knew you couldn't hide your adhd forever, and it would give you a reason for your behaviour. "Oh right im sorry erm its my adhd its just hard to pay attention in meetings when i dont have something to fidget with but next time I'll be more prepared" you say your voice laced with worry waiting for her response.

"Well, why didn't you just tell us in the beginning we would have been much more accommodating for you" she says smiling back. "Honestly im not sure its just hard to talk about" you say back.

Since that conversation with leah, life and arsenal had become so much easier, and unlike the words of others, being the loud girl isn't so bad after all. You can't be the annoying one when you accompany yourself in people who don't find you annoying.

[cheeseceli]

With a hyper s/o

Pairing: Ot8 skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Request: hihi! i loved your skz with a quiet s/o! is it okay if i request skz with a extroverted and loud s/o? thank you!

Warnings: not proofread

A/n: stray kids comeback soon!! So excited what | fundraiser

Bang Chan

Honestly he gets a little bit worried every time you start to jump and run around lmao, but it's just his protective side showing out. He'd do everything to keep the smile on your face. The boys also are glad you are in his life, as since you came along he seems more carefree, like he can relax a bit more. Maybe you being so alive made him decide to live more as well.

Lee Know

Absolute chaos. When he is on those "I'll just start screaming and let's see what happens" moments, you both become unstoppable. And if you're up to joining in his crazy ideas, he might as well just have found the love of his life. But when he's on his calmer moments, he loves to just hear you talk about anything or just admire you. He finds you so endearing and loveable.

Changbin

I feel like you have scared him quite a few times by being loud but then he's being louder and you just click so well lmao. The boys love him, love you and love you both as a couple but they'd be rolling their eyes whenever you two got together😭 I feel like talking to him would be so easy too. Conversation just comes and goes so normally, you wouldn't even have to try.

Hyunjin

Honestly, he just loves how everything about you seems so bright. He can swear he sees colours more vivid because of you and your little habits. It's almost impossible for him to not smile along your antics and drama. Might even try to keep up with your hype sometimes (mostly fails but he doesn't mind that much, he just likes to see you be his sunshine).

Han

Yes he's an introvert but have you seen this man?? He's ready to set fire to everything most of the time. So this is kinda absolute chaos pt2. Such a good duo, you both share the same braincell. But when the situation calls for it, you are his vitamin and charger. And if you're the dramatic type as well, he's all in for that.

Felix

If Han is his sunshine twin you're his sunshine soulmate. Honestly, the room just brightens up the moment you two walk in. And people can always figure out where you both are just by following the sound of your laugh 😭 that's genuinely cute.

Seungmin

Teases you a little bit when it comes to you being extra hyper and happy about everything, but it's all in good fun. He actually finds it rather cute. It also gives me huge "If you dance I'll dance, if you don't I'll dance anyways" vibes (please someone understand what I mean). Most of the times he's wondering how you have such a big social battery tho lmao.

I.N

Honestly he loves to hear you yap. You always come up with the most random things to say, he never knows what to expect. And even though he doesn't say much back, you always know that he's listening. And it's even kinda cute because when he's only with the boys he'll randomly talk about what you said earlier that day. "Did you know you can hear a blue whale's heartbeat from two miles away?"

Masterlist | you'll probably like: with a quiet s/o

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji

Credits for images 1 2 and 3

Dividers by @isisjupiter

[sophsbookstore]

Exchanged Glances

Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡ 

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Read pt. 2 here

A/N: Not super edited, I wanted to get it posted before the Grand Prix!

Word count: 1,581

Normally when Charles goes back home to Monaco he has his mom cut his hair. Like clockwork he will arrive at his moms salon, say hello to the various hairdressers and then go to his moms station to get a fresh cut. Only, this time things were different. 

A couple days before he was to arrive home Charles called his mom and asked what day she was free to cut his hair, with the upcoming Monaco Grand Prix it, and with it being his home race he was more available for a haircut than ever.

After their brief greetings to one another Charles’ mom told him that she would be out of town up until the day of the race. For the first time since joining formula one his mom wouldn't be able to cut his hair for him before the Monaco Grand prix.

“Don't worry Cha, I can refer you to another hairdresser at the salon.” She offered, trying to give him another solution.

“I don't know, you've always cut my hair, no one else.” 

“Then this will be a perfect time for you to step out of your comfort zone. Don't worry I know the perfect person, she’s new, around your age and she's magic in the salon.” Trusting his mom this easies Charles' nerves slightly.

“Ok maman.” The driver sighs in defeat.

“Wonderful! When you go to the salon ask for Y/N.'' With that his mom bid him farewell, telling him when to be at the salon, not going into any more detail about this mysterious hairdresser.

Before he knew it the day had come, he was going to step out of his comfort zone and have a complete stranger touch his hair. He hoped his mom wasn't lying when she was hyping up Y/N and her skills, he didn't want to go to the paddock looking a mess.

Charles enters the salon, all the employees giving him waves and greeting him. He's known some of these people his whole life, whenever he stepped foot in the salon it was like he was being greeted by family.

“Hello Charles, what can I help you with today?” The lady at the front desk asked.

"Hello, yes, my mom told me to ask for Y/N?” The boy shrugged in confusion.

“Oh of course! I'll go get her.” The lady that once sat in front of him was now off searching for the mysterious magic woman that was going to cut his hair.

Charles felt like he was waiting for hours, the salon wasn't that big was it? Maybe it was all in his head. He stood to the side of the waiting area, too consumed with stress to sit down and relax. Before he knew it the front desk lady came back, the woman he assumed to be Y/N trailing behind her.

This is when he finally got to have a good look at her. She was beautiful, why didn't his mom tell him that they started hiring part time models at the salon. The two stood awkwardly, both taking in one another, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Hello Charles, I’m Y/N. just follow me back to my station and we’ll get started”

Charles was too dumbfounded to respond, instead the man stuttered silently before nodding and following Y/N to the back of her salon. During the short walk to her station, Charles thought of questions to ask the beautiful girl, desperately wanting to hear the sound of her voice again.

“Thanks for trusting me with your hair today, your mom told me that you don't really let anyone else cut your hair.” She giggled.

“Oh! Yeah, she's been cutting mine and my brothers hair since we were kids.”

“That's so sweet. I understand where you're coming from I don't let anyone cut my hair, only myself.'' This put Charles at ease. Knowing that she thinks the same way he does, even about something so simple as hair.

After some comfortable small talk Y/N led Charles further back into the salon, sitting the boy down in a chair before leaning him back and washing his hair. The driver seemed to melt in her touch as she ran her fingers through his hair.

When Y/N pulled her hands away to apply more product Charles felt incomplete, like he was missing a sense of stability and peace within himself. Just as soon as she removed her hands she placed them back, continuing to massage his scalp with the shampoo.

Y/N pats Charles’ shoulders signaling to him that the wash was done and that they had to make their way back to her station. Y/N led the way, Charles trailing behind the girl before taking his spot in front of her in the salon chair.

“Are you excited for the grand prix?” Y/N questions taking some of his hair between her fingers, beginning the cut

“Very. I have a good feeling and my son will be there, hopefully we secure P1 and P2.”

“You have a son? What's his name?” Y/N questions, his mom not mentioning anything about a grandson.

“Oh! My apologies he's not really my son. He's a driver on the grid that I've somewhat adopted for the race weekend so that he can claim the Monaco grand prix as his home race.” Charles looks at Y/N hoping she doesn't find what he said both weird and confusing.

“HA!” The hairdresser laughed out loud. “Well congrats to him, I hope he has a fun and successful home race as well. I'll be sure to congratulate your maman about her newly found grandson.” 

Charles sat up a little higher in the chair, “Are you coming to the race?”

“I wish I could but I have to work, don't worry though, the salon will be playing the race so everyone can watch.” Y/N stopped cutting for a moment, looking at Charles through the mirror placed in front of them before giving him a warm smile.

Y/N picked up another section of his hair, continuing to snip away leaving Charles to examine the girl through the mirror. Y/N looked up from behind him, making a quick glance at him before the pair broke eye contact, looking separate ways.

Slowly their eyes started moving back to the mirror. The scissors snapping shut as the pair hold eye contact. Charles felt the tip of his ears getting hotter, the pair both noticing one another's subtle hints of red creeping onto their faces.

“Notice anything Mr. Leclerc?” Y/N questions, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

Charles opens his mouth to speak but words don't come out.

“Don't think I haven't noticed the subtle glances, there is either something on my face and you're trying to figure out how to tell me, or something going on in this head of yours.” She turns her attention back to his hair, the haircut almost over.

“I-” he clears his throat, “I was admiring you. You're very good at what you do.”

“I deeply appreciate Charles, truly.” Y/N made her final touches to the haircut. Unbuttoning the cloth that was draped over Charles, before dusting off his shoulders of any hair. “You're all finished, let me find a mirror so you can see the back.”

Y/N walked toward an unknown part of the salon, Charles' eyes following the girl through the mirror until she came back. This is it, if he doesn't say anything now he might never see her again.

The hairdresser came back, handing Charles a small hand held mirror for him to examine the back of his head. He admired her work, impressed with her skills. Placing the mirror down on a ledge near her station he got out of his chair and turned to her.

The two stared at one another, practically chest to chest. “Will you come to the grand prix?” He asked breathlessly.

“Nothing would delight me more but I have to work.” Y/N sighed looking away for a moment before her attention was pulled back to Charles.

“If you can't come to the race can you accompany me for dinner after?” Y/N looked at Charles, her cheeks getting ever so pinker.

“Mr. Leclerc are you asking me on a date?”

“That depends, would you like to go on a date with me?” Charles asked, not missing a beat.

“Yes Charles, I would love to.” 

Charles smiled from ear to ear, desperately wanting to bounce off the walls with excitement, stopping himself before he could embarrass himself. “Then I will see you tomorrow.” He nodded in satisfaction.

“See you tomorrow Charles.” Charles walked away from the hairdresser, giving her a quick glance back before making his way back to the lady at the front desk.

“Hair looks great! What did you think of Y/N?” She asked, ringing him up so he could make his payment.

“She's fantastic, I think maman will have some competition.” The two laughed, Charles paid, giving her a quick goodbye.

As soon as he exited the salon he called his mom, updating her on his post race plans, greatly thanking her for offering Y/N to cut his hair.

[izzabela]

Hello!! Can you write about Smoke trying to ask fem. reader to be his date for Kuai Liang's wedding?

Plus One - Tomas x fem!reader (5+1 fic)

in which Tomas tries five times to ask you to be his date, and the one time he finally gets it right

a/n: i love weddings guys

ship[s]: tomas x fem!reader

warning(s): post-kanon

1 - Johnny

Tomas had a plan.

Walk in the hosting room, hand you the small bouquet of wisterias, and ask you to accompany him to his brother's wedding.

Easy, right?

Wrong. Especially with a woman as beautiful as you.

You two weren't dating (yet), but Tomas had been pining after you for a couple of months now.

This wedding invite would double as an opportunity to ask you out completely.

Tomas holds the flowers he plans on giving you, stands in front of the door for a couple more seconds as he hypes himself up for you.

"You can do this," Tomas whispers to himself. Gripping on the handle of the door, he slides it open to meet you in a... precarious situation.

Johnny is chasing you around with one of Tomas's masks (elder gods know how that ended up in the hosting room). You were padding around the room in childish joy, but stopped once you saw him.

"Oh, Tomas!" you greet. "Sorry about that, Johnny dropped in for a visit for some research on Japan. Kuai Liang invited him in."

Your eyes drop to the wisteria bouquet.

"Who's that going to?" you ask.

Tomas tosses the bouquet out to the side, smiling tightly as he walks in and closes the door.

"Nothing! It was for sister..." he lies, guilty he's using Harumi as a scapegoat.

As you and Johnny continue playing, Tomas grits his teeth.

He has six days before the wedding. Day one didn't go so well, but he has six more days.

Yeah, he thinks, Tomorrow will go just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 - Raiden

You and Tomas are greeted at the entrance of the Wu Shi by Kung Lao and Raiden.

"Welcome, our esteemed guests," Kung Lao teases. You roll your eyes, bowing halfway.

"Funny, Kung Lao," you greet with a smile. Tomas does the same thing.

Five days until the wedding and Tomas still has his bouquet waiting for you. Since today was a visit to talk about security for the wedding.

Perfectly stowed away in his shirt, Tomas is by your side as Kung Lao and Raiden talk about the safety of the bride and groom.

A monk suddenly rushes to Kung Lao's side, whispering to him about... something.

"Apologies, everyone!" Kung Lao announces. "I'll be taking my leave, but Raiden will show you two more of the details."

Waving Kung Lao off, Raiden begins to tour you guys around the place and offer more insight to security and what the monks can provide.

You'd think that Tomas would have the perfect opportunity to talk to you about the wedding and going as a couple, but he didn't.

Raiden was stuck to your side the entire day. Literally, glued to your hip as he showed you every nook and cranny about the academy.

It wasn't even about the security of the monks anymore. He showed you everything and everywhere of the academy.

Little by little, Tomas could feel his confidence wilt and waver. It wasn't until the sun set that you finally were able to address Tomas.

"Raiden is such a hospitable young man," you gush, hand on your cheek as you wave goodbye.

"What was it you wanted to speak to me about?" you ask, walking with him as a portal opens back to the compound.

Tomas tucks the bouquet deeper into his shirt, smiling tightly as he glares at Raiden.

"It can wait until dinner, dove," Tomas answers politely. You smile, and Tomas can feel the guilt take bigger bites out of his conscious.

Poor Raiden, he was just trying to be friendly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 - Kenshi

Four days.

Four days until the wedding and Tomas's chances have been ruined twice now.

No matter, since he still has time.

Today, Tomas knew no one would be taking up yours, his, or the clan's time at all. His bouquet for you was beginning to wilt a bit, but Harumi supplied him with plant food and a matching vase.

Carrying the flowers in its vase, he walks to the garden and pond in the back of the compound.

In all honesty, the days he got interrupted gave him time to practice his words for you. So this time around, he's more confident and ready.

Rounding the corner, he finds you sitting by yourself on the wooden ledge. The breeze was light and cool, and your hair billowed like a willow tree.

"Good morrow, dove," Tomas greets. You smile, a dust of pink over your cheeks.

Before you could say anything, Kenshi appears from the room behind you (was that always there? Tomas thinks). Though his eyes are no longer useful, his brows do the talking as they're up in surprise.

"Good morning, Tomas. What brings you here?"

A vein pops in his neck, and he bites back from saying "i live here, doofus". Keeping up appearances, he recovers and smiles semi-politely.

"I just finished training my students," Tomas answers.

You look to see that Tomas has the same flowers from a couple of days ago.

"I thought you had given that to Harumi already," you point to the flowers. "Did you not get it to her?"

Tomas mentally curses himself, "Ah, she wasn't in the other day."

Putting the flowers to the side, he sits down next to you and Kenshi, Kenshi to your left and him on your right.

You three are engrossed in conversation, and Tomas is actually okay with not being able to ask you out.

Besides, Kenshi is rational, Johnny was an idiot and Raiden was touchy (no he wasn't Tomas is just getting antsy).

I have tomorrow, Tomas thinks, Tomorrow I'll do it.

The wisterias keep bending over the lip of the vase, almost like a cursed rose counting down the time he had left before he'd be cursed forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 - Kung Lao

With two days remaining until the wedding, Tomas's patience was running thin.

The wisteria bouquet was losing its color, and the taut petals were shriveling like raisins with the time passing like this.

Still, he remained hopeful. Just as there were wilting petals, there were still some that were bright and healthy.

"Today for sure," Tomas tells himself. "Today is the day I'll do it."

If Tomas had a ten yen coin for every time his allies came through and stopped his advances for you, he'd have three. It isn't a lot, but it is weird it happened three times.

Tomas opens another pack of fertilizer for the the flowers, dumping it in the water of the vase before he stirs it with a wooden dowel.

He's not bringing it today, since it looks like a bit of a mess. To replace it, he has a letter and a bouquet of baby's breath.

Leaving his room, he wanders the compound again to to try and see where you are.

It's a warm evening this time around, and the sun has barely just touched the horizon. Tomas can hear the birds chirp and fill the silence of nature, and he finally spots you.

You're by the entrance this time, leaning on the huge maple wood door frame while talking to someone. Despite the posture you're in, you look as regal as ever. The sun shines and illuminates your very features, and Tomas can't help but sigh like a school boy in love.

He steps closer, rounding the corner to see who could be making you cover your mouth as you laugh, only to find the silhouette of a sun hat.

"Oh, hello!" Kung Lao greets. His dimples are out as he smiles fully, pearly white teeth shining as he waves the smoke ninja over.

"Come join us! Little birdie over here was just updating me about the wedding plans!" Kung Lao yells.

You swat his shoulder and tell him to hush.

"You said you would not tell!" you scold. "This is a secret!"

Tomas hid the letter in his shirt and the bouquet in the pocket of his pants. He couldn't intervene, not now, and not when you were clearly enjoying the laughs Kung Lao was providing.

Still, Tomas remained by your side, back straight and putting up the best front he could. However, the bouquet in his pants portrayed a different story.

Tomorrow, Tomas thinks, I'll do it for real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 - Kuai Liang

The last day before the wedding.

Everything should have been in place so that the bride and groom could have time to relax and be with their respective parties before the day of the ceremony.

So why is it that you and Kuai Liang were together at a flower shop, piecing together his corsage?

It was strange, too, considering a corsage is a western practice- Japanese weddings didn't even need flowers unless it was for the bride.

Tomas didn't want to give up, not when the wedding was so close, but the fact he ended up following you and Kuai Liang to the flower shop in the village near the compound meant he was on thin ice.

And boy was he desperate.

Tomas was ready. His wisterias were healthy, the baby's breath was still in tact, and the flowers worked so well together. The letter was the perfect touch too.

So the fact he saw you and Kuai Liang leave together, he couldn't hide his frustrations any longer.

"Brother, I swear to the elder gods..." Tomas mumbles to himself as he watches you two from a roof nearby.

He was still thinking of a way to come up to you two naturally, and without showing the vase and letter.

At this point, though, and with the wedding tomorrow, he felt defeated. He felt like he had given up.

He keeps the flowers and letter on the roof, telling himself he'll get the later. He takes his mask off and ruffles his clothes to make it look like he ran errands.

Finally, he jumps down on the opposite end of the shop, walking down until you point out to Kuai Liang that you see him.

"Tomas! What brings you here?" you ask gleefully, unaware of the sadness that plagues his heart.

"Nothing, dove. Just running some final errands before the wedding tomorrow."

He spends the rest of the day with you and his brother, the flowers and letter sitting idly on the rooftop- just like his feelings rest idly in his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

+1 - Harumi

You brush Harumi's hair one more time before rolling the hood over her head. Through the mirror, you look at her and offer her words of encouragement.

"Oh Harumi, I'm so happy for you," you say with a wobbly voice, tears lining the bottom of your eyes as you squeeze her shoulder.

You friend of many years, your ride or die, your platonic soulmate, was getting married to the most honorable man in the planet- in the realm!

How could you not be happy for her?

Harumi can sense that something is amiss with you, especially since you've been so excited for this wedding.

"What plagues your mind, my friend?" she asks, turning away from the vanity to hold both your hands.

You shake your head, "Nothing is wrong, just so overcome with joy."

Yeah, no. Harumi isn't believing a word since your tone didn't match the words you spoke.

"Come now, you can tell me," Harumi coaxes you gently. You can't help but fall victim to her charm, and you sit next to her to tell her about the week leading up to today.

From Johnny and his research, Raiden and the Wu Shi visit, even the little meets with Kenshi and Kung Lao, and you can't forget the fact that Kuai Liang took you to a flower shop to get a corsage made for Tomas.

All of these little things, talking to your friends about how to properly ask Tomas out to be your date, Harumi hears everything about your dilemma.

"Well... why don't you hear him now?" Harumi asks. He waves the handmaiden over, telling her that she's ready for the men to come in.

Kuai Liang and Tomas walk inside, wearing the traditional attire of a Japanese groom and best man. While Harumi is practically drooling over Kuai Liang, you can't help but be breathless in front of the European.

"Hi..." Tomas waves awkwardly with one hand, his other hiding something behind his back.

You give him the same salutation, gripping the corsage against your yukata.

"We will be outside getting ready, but the procession can't start until our best man and maid of honor are ready," Harumi tells you both.

Harumi winks at you while Kuai Liang is giving his younger brother a knowing glance. Tomas just waves him out.

"You look... lovely," Tomas finally says, eyeing you up and down. "Your yukata is a flattering color."

He wasn't lying. Harumi went to great lengths finding you the perfect yukata in your favorite color. She even got the best tailor in the country to fit it well against your body.

"I uh, wanted to give you something-"

"Wait! I have something as well," Tomas interrupts. He pulls out the thing you had been seeing through the weekend, the vase with the wisterias and the baby's breath.

"Oh... Tomas they're beautiful," you barely whisper. "For me?"

He nods, pointing to the flowers as he explains, "Baby's breath symbolizes everlasting love, and wisterias represent grace."

He meets your eyes, and you can see a bit of red at the corners indicating his shyness.

"This is my graceful everlasting love to you, not only as a friend, but as a suitor, if you'll have me."

You take the flowers and set them down on the vanity, taking the note from his hand as well and replacing it with the thing Tomas had seen earlier in the week.

Tomas looks down, "The corsage? But I thought-."

You shake your head, "No you goof, it wasn't for anyone but you!"

You then begin to explain how you spoke to each man about your crush on Tomas, and how you were gathering ideas on a gift to pair with your declaration of love.

Kuai Liang's idea was the best, and he offered to go out with you to fulfill that. Silly Tomas.

You take the corsage and pin it to the hem of his yukata. The flowers you chose were a white peonies and dark purple violets.

"The peony represents beauty and the violets represent faithfulness. You are the faithful, beautiful, dutiful man who has captured my heart."

Tomas is wide-eyed, and you recover yourself before your shame can eat you alive.

"If you'll have me..." You don't need to ask twice before Tomas takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your hand as he nods to the door.

"Are you ready to accompany me, my consort?" Tomas asks.

You nod, "Gladly, my loving suitor."

=====================

5+1 fics are so funny, this also makes me miss weddings

see you guys in the next fic!

[bio-hazard]

Now I've Found A Real Love (You'll Never Fool Me Again)

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader Fake Dating

ladies and gentlefish it's finally done. i think this is the longest fanfiction i've ever written and i cut a large portion of it out just to be able to get it done before christmas so i hope that you guys enjoy this (please enjoy this. i'll cry.)

15k words, only warnings for implied weed and cheating, drinking and a lot of guilt. i don't know why i gave reader anxiety. SFW with a few suggestive jokes but minors please dni with my work !! happy holidays ppl !!!!

. 🎄 . 🎁 . 🎄 .

Christmas time is supposed to be the “most magical time of the year”, with love and joy spread through the hearts of many. Apparently that wasn’t in the cards for you this year. You were supposed to go home for Christmas week with your boyfriend to introduce him to your family. Everything was going so well and you had been hyping him up for months now, bragging about how he was the perfect boyfriend.

Until he made you eat those words a day before you were supposed to leave, sitting among clothes and general things you would need for the week scattered around your bed when your phone buzzed and lit up to show the lockscreen of you kissing his cheek.

“hey so. i hate to say this but i dont think this is going to work out. i dont want to see you hurt and your a great person but i dont think im ready to meet your family yet. i think i should spend time alone to find myself. its not your fault ml”

Your smile fell as you read over the message again and again.

“merry xmas btw”

After a couple hours of coping very healthily and no emotional outbursts whatsoever, you wiped the last of your tears. Okay. This was fine! It was a single day before you were supposed to drive home and see almost all of your extended family for an entire week, and the man you had made sound like a fairy tale prince just dumped you over text!

If you showed up there, heartbroken and alone, you would never hear the end of it from all sides of the family.

…

You needed a new boyfriend.

Running through the list of people you knew would probably be easier than trying to find a stranger within a day, but you quickly ran into the issue that your family already knew most of your friends, and none would be able to easily pass as a boyfriend for a whole week without blowing it. So you moved on to secondary friends. People you had the number of for classes or your neighbours, people in your study group. Nothing. You fell back against your bed and stared at your contact list hopelessly, scrolling up and down as if that would make some new number magically appear. You had to face the reality of the situation; You were screwed.

The next morning you picked yourself up and got ready, showering and packing the rest of whatever items you hadn’t already shoved into a bag. The idea of cancelling on your study group appealed to you greatly, but some part of your mind reminded you that you had notes that a few of the others needed to copy down, and you wanted to stay in their good graces. So you gathered every inch of mental tape you had and held yourself together until you resembled a stable human being, and locked the door behind you as you left.

Walking into the library, the warmth hugged your face and you let out a quiet sigh as you loosened your scarf, kicked the snow off your boots, and moved deeper into the building to find the usual area everyone gathered in. It was a long table toward the back that a handful of you had claimed weekly for study meets. One of your close friends and a few others who had the same class, and a few who just liked the company and atmosphere. You knew everyone there by name and occasionally after studying you would all go out for food. Of course, you couldn’t stop thinking about your dilemma as you sat down and pulled out your books. You wouldn’t be able to focus on work much, but you could at least pretend you were being productive.

Handing your notes around the table, you took a look at everyone again and weighed your options. Either they didn’t fit what you remember telling your family, or they had met your family in one way or another. You sighed and stared down at the still shut textbook in front of you. None of the material seemed like it was near interesting enough to derail your current train of thought. Sitting up to say something to your friend, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention.

“Sorry, hope I’m not late!”

Turning your head the other way, you see a dark green jacket and look up at the man holding the back of the chair next to you. “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”

Your eyes widened. Charlie. Of course. He was a newer addition to the group, invited by a couple others you weren’t too close with. You didn’t know him too well, at most having been left alone at the table with him once or twice, but he was nice and funny and.. Well, you’d be lying to say he wasn’t conventionally attractive. He would match what you had told your parents almost perfectly. You just had to figure out how to ask him such a thing. Nothing you came up with sounded normal, or it just made you seem like some kind of creep trying to lie to their family. He’d mentioned doing a little acting before though, hadn’t he? Maybe you would have to bribe him— Before you knew it, everyone else had left the table, leaving you and Charlie alone in that area of the suddenly far too silent library.

He sighed and put his pencil down, closing his book and starting to pack his things. You panicked, cutting him off as he stood up and opened his mouth to speak.

“Can I ask a favour of you?”

He seemed slightly taken aback at how quickly you had spoken, but nodded slightly regardless.

“Sure.. What’s up?”

You took a deep breath and hoped you weren’t about to make an idiot of yourself.

“It’s.. a huge favour, and if you don’t want to, you can say no and we can pretend like I never asked but-” Pausing from nerves, you peeked up at him but he just seemed amused by your nerves, waiting for you to go on so before you knew it you started spilling your guts. “My boyfriend dumped me last night and tomorrow we were supposed to drive home to spend the week and visit my whole family for Christmas, but now he isn’t coming and I just spent the last few months acting like he was gonna be a big surprise so they don’t know too many details but I can’t go home alone or I’ll be embarrassed until the day I die and-”

Charlie waved his hand with a soft laugh and sat back down to be on your level.

“Hey- Hey. Take a breath.” He smiled patiently and waited for you to take a deep breath. “How can I help?”

“I need you to.. Pretend to be my boyfriend for the week in front of my whole family..?” You shakily asked, knowing how messed up that sounded.

Charlie stared at you with a strange look in his eye, but the same soft smile on his face. After a moment he shrugged and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

You blinked.

“Sorry?”

“Honestly, I didn’t have any plans for the holidays anyways so… A week full of free food and entertainment doesn’t sound half bad.”

You felt like your heart might explode. Charlie laughed softly at your reaction.

“Thank- Oh, god Charlie thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“What can I say, I'm a simple man. Here, I can give you my number and you can text me in the morning when you’re ready to go. Okay?”

You nodded and handed him your phone, ignoring the flutter in your stomach when his hand encased yours to take it. It’s not like you had feelings for him, he was just a nice guy willing to do you a favour. That’s all this was.

You waved as he excused himself and headed out.

What had you gotten yourself into?

The next morning, at a frankly unreasonable time to be awake, you had shoved all your things into your car and parked where Charlie had said would be the easiest to pick him up. The radio hummed Christmas music on the local station as you looked through the messages between you two so far. One of the first things Charlie had sent was a picture of a knitted christmas sweater that looked like it had seen many holidays and a collared shirt that looked ironed, asking what kind of people your parents were. You had to appreciate the dedication to being the perfect boyfriend, and said whatever he’s most comfortable in - But that you probably had a similar looking sweater waiting for you at home somewhere, to which he responded he couldn’t wait to see.

A knock on the passenger window snapped you out of your thoughts and only then did you realize you were smiling like an idiot. Charlie waved through the window, his face illuminated by what bits of moonlight remained as the sky began to lighten before the sun had fully risen, and motioned to his bags. You popped the trunk and hopped out, opening it and going to help him load it all in.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He politely waved you off and lifted it in with ease, and you definitely didn’t stare at the way the fabric of his jacket stretched across his arms as he did. He slammed the trunk shut with a hearty clunk before turning to you with a grin. “Shall we?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded, getting back in the driver seat. He quickly slid into the seat beside you, stretching.

“It’s a long trip… Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you asking if I want to do the drive, or do this for a week?”

“I-”

“Because I do.” He nodded, a little too earnestly. “It’ll be okay, I’ll try not to make you look bad.” Charlie winked and glanced at the radio, then at your phone sitting in the cupholder beside you. “Your car, your rules. Who controls the music?”

The way he seemed so unbothered about the situation seemed to put you at ease for now, and you unlocked your phone and connected it to the car speakers before handing it to him.

“Surprise me, will you?”

“I won’t let you down.”

The two of you quickly took off and grabbed something to eat from a drive-through; Stopping to eat now would risk making you late. The weather seemed to be alright for now, but you were a bit nervous something would kick up before you were in the home stretch of your parents house. Charlie managed to calm your nerves every time with a joke or comment that would distract you from your worries. Eventually you two agreed that you needed a cohesive story to pull this off well, so you started by listing off things you remember having told your family about your ex, and Charlie nodded as he seemed to internalize all those traits, though you doubted he needed to fake most of these traits for your sake. Eventually you moved on to your story. How you met, dates you’d been on, mutual friends, and other various stories to sell that you had been close for the better part of a year rather than having maybe three conversations that weren’t purely about schoolwork and studying. Charlie even shared a bit more about himself for you to build on, and it shocked you a little how much you had in common and how little you really knew about him. Talking with him came so naturally, and he was so effortlessly funny that you wondered how you hadn’t become friends sooner. Part of you wondered if it could stay like this after you got home.

The conversation moved to boundaries. Knowing your family, there would be mistletoe somewhere in the house.

“Well,” Charlie hummed, thinking about it as he glanced out the front windshield. “I’m a pretty physical person, and I'm fine with PDA if that’s what you mean.”

You nodded and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“I just.. It’s all pretend, right? I don’t want to overstep-”

“We’ll probably be pushed together at one point or another anyways.” Charlie cut you off, looking at you. “So I’m fine with anything. Let’s maybe keep any kissing to a minimum though. Try to avoid mistletoe, yeah? Oh, and-” He tapped his bottom lip with his finger, smiling. “- No lips.”

There was a sigh, and you realized you had been holding your breath.

“Yeah, of course.”

He let out a little laugh as his smile grew.

“I know, that must be such a disappointment, nobody can resist this.” He sighed, as if this were a recurring issue. You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the thought of kissing him and laughed in response.

At one point you had stopped to refill the tank and Charlie offered to hold the pump while you ran inside to pay and get snacks (but no eggs, despite how many times he asked. You were not making your car smell like whatever gas station eggs must have smelt like.) Grabbing a drink for both of you and a handful of snacks, you plopped them all down on the counter and smiled at the cashier who started scanning the items.

“Is that your boyfriend on pump 2?” She asked, glancing at Charlie, who leaned against the car as he waited for you.

You stopped, and for some reason found yourself unable to answer. You were going to say that no, he was just a friend. …But then again, this was someone you’d probably never see again, and who probably didn’t actually care who he was in relation to you.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let him know that one acts up when it gets cold, he might have to be a little rough to make it work.” She shrugged and typed something into the register. “How much?”

You finished the transaction and walked out with a small bag of items, walking up to Charlie, who looked up from his phone.

“All good?”

“Yeah, she said it gets weird in the cold, be a little rough if you need to.” Charlie laughed a little and bit back a smile, and you felt a slight warmth in your cheeks that wasn’t from the cold.

“I can be rough.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned and shoved his arm as he grabbed the nozzle and pushed it into the car.

You didn’t mention that she called him your boyfriend. You kept it to yourself as you got into the passenger seat when Charlie insisted on driving until the next refuel. You let those words stew in your brain until he got in the driver’s seat and adjusted it to his size, familiarizing himself with your car as you stretched your legs.

After a few more short breaks and another gas station refuel where you took over driving, it’s dark again as you arrive. Charlie is intently watching all the lights on the houses as you drive up and pull into the driveway of your parents house. The whole place was decorated expertly, just as it had been every year for as long as you could remember. The sight was nostalgic.

Movement on the porch caught your eye as your mother and father came out to greet you. You killed the engine and gathered your things inside the car. Charlie was watching you when you looked up to him.

“Last chance.”

His hand slipped into yours with a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

You look at your hands and smile softly before pulling away and exiting the car with a warm smile for your parents. It’s a moment of you three alone before the passenger door opens and Charlie steps out.

“There he is!” Your mother gasped and put a hand on your shoulder. “I was starting to think you were just making up fairytales.”

You laughed softly and shook your head.

“Mom, Dad, this is Charlie… My boyfriend.” Charlie walked up and wrapped an arm around you, extending a hand to your father, who shook it with a nod. Your mom pulled him in for a hug, and he quickly reciprocated, pulling away with a mirth in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, he’s just as lovely as you said, dear.” Your mother smiled and Charlie shrugged one shoulder as he moved his arm back around you.

“Well, I do my best.” He chuckled. “I gotta say, I'm a huge fan of your work.” Charlie motioned to you, and your mother laughed. “I didn’t believe angels were real until I met this one.”

You flushed and glanced away, which only made your mother laugh more. He instantly fell into rhythm with your family, giving off this perfect charm that made him nearly glow along with the Christmas lights around you all. It felt so genuine, every compliment that fell from his lips and the way he spoke to your parents was nothing short of naturally impressive.

Part of you wondered if it would play out like this if you had genuinely brought him home. If he would have his arm around your shoulders the same, make jokes that enamoured your parents just like he was now. You wondered if he would kiss your cheek and you would be rid of this weight in your chest. This guilt that came with lying to your parents, and soon enough your whole family. Before you could spiral any further into this train of thought, Charlie is nudging your shoulder.

“Oh, sorry- Yeah?”

He smiled down at you reassuringly, squeezing your shoulders as if he could read your mind. You wondered if he could. You wondered if he would leave you if he heard your thoughts now-

“Can you unlock the trunk for me?”

“Yeah, of course.” You reached for your keys and hit the trunk button.

Once again he’s insisting on taking his own luggage, so you grab your bags and bring them inside as your mother talks about the plans she has for the week and your father leads the march inside and up the stairs. You take a moment to admire the house, mostly decorated with little christmas details and festive colours covering every surface. Your parents loved to go all out for the holidays. The bigger decorations were still missing, and you figured they had been waiting for you and your boyfriend to come home and help them with those. Free labour, of course.

Quickly following up the stairs after Charlie, you see him standing in a doorway you immediately recognize. Oh no.

You had entirely forgotten that with extra guests coming over, the guest rooms would be taken up by other family members, leaving you in your old bedroom. Alone with Charlie. With one bed.

That was fine! It was fine, really!

Looking at Charlie’s face, he seemed to have connected the same dots as you.

Your dad left you to unpack and get settled in, saying he would meet you both downstairs and that dinner would be ready soon.

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot about.. This. I can sleep on the floor if you-”

Charlie cut you off by shaking his head with a flustered laugh. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he looked to you with a hapless smile.

“It’s fine, really. Wouldn’t be the first time I shared a bed with someone. Besides, it's a queen by the look of it. We’ll both fit just fine. Try not to hog the blankets though, I might have to fight you for that.” He moved to the foot of the bed and dropped his bags to the ground, looking around. “So this is your room huh? It’s..” He seemed to bite something back, and it gave you a rush of worry. “It’s nice. I like it.”

You definitely weren’t freaking out right now. You were so normal and were doing fine as he ran his hand over the top of your dresser and looked at all the decorations. Admittedly it was a bit strange to see your room so.. Un-lived in, but it still felt like yours.

“We should probably head down and wash up for dinner.” You ignored the fluttering in your gut as he giddily pointed at a few items he recognized, brushing it off with a smile.

Surprisingly, dinner was rather uneventful. Charlie complimented your mothers cooking and answered a few questions about himself, and the four of you mostly talked about college, what had been going on in the neighbourhood and how the drive here had gone. You told Charlie that you’d help clean up by yourself, but he insisted on helping you clear the table and do the dishes. It felt oddly domestic, especially as you two started flicking water at each other, having to be stopped by your mother scolding you for getting water on her floors.

Your parents retired for the night shortly after that, and you and Charlie figured it would be best to follow suit. Heading upstairs with a quiet conversation, you were faced with a dilemma. You two weren’t about to change in front of each other, and you were not about to just have him cover his eyes and turn around.

“There’s always the bathroom,” Charlie offered, jabbing his thumb back towards the hallway.

“Yeah but- You’re the guest, making you change in the bathroom is a bit rude isn’t it?” He shrugged.

“This is your room, it’s only fair you get to change in here in my opinion.”

You went back and forth a bit more, before Charlie just grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom anyways. There wasn’t much you could’ve done to convince him anyways, you assumed. A quick change later and there was a soft knock.

“Am I good to come back in?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Sitting on the bed, you went over your options until you had agreed to just bite the bullet and try to sleep on the far sides of the bed to avoid any awkwardness of sleeping with each other. As you stared out the window, the stars glittered, snow fell, and you drifted to sleep trying to guess what was a star and what was a snowflake.

The sun hit your face as you woke up, groaning. You rolled over and threw your arm over your face to shield yourself, only to find yourself now beside something warm. It only took a second to remember it was Charlie, and it took a couple more seconds to pull away and open your eyes to see he was raising an eyebrow at you with a quiet laugh.

“Good morning.”

“... Hi.”

He looked back to his phone in his hand, typing something out before turning it off and putting it down.

“I wasn’t sure when your family got up, I didn’t want to be sitting down there alone.”

“So you sat here and watched me sleep..?”

“No!- No, I didn’t-” Charlie’s eyes widened as he shook his head, only relaxing when he saw you smile and try not to laugh. He sighed, then squinted. “Wait..”

“What?” You sat up to look at him, rubbing your eyes and making yourself a little less dishevelled.

“If you were sleeping… And I was watching you sleep…” He turned to you, doing his best mewing expression. “Who’s watching Foxy..?”

You blinked a few times before dissolving into giggles. Charlie grinned at the praise as you covered your face and groaned. “Wanna go get breakfast now? It’s a little after nine.”

Swallowing down the last bubbles of laughter you nodded and pulled the blanket off of you as you got up. Charlie followed shortly after. Another bout of arguing over who would change where began until he once again moved to the bathroom, and you figured that trying to fight him any more on this would get you nowhere.

Padding down the stairs, you got to looking around the kitchen for something to eat. The only thing you could think of was cereal so you pulled out a box of something plain, and Charlie made a face.

“What?”

“I mean, is there.. Anything else? It’s okay if there isn’t just..”

You look back in the pantry and hummed.

“I don’t see anything. Knock yourself out though.”

Charlie walked over as you moved to your bowl and poured out the cereal. You looked over to see him stuck halfway into the shelves, kicking a foot up before pulling out a colourful box triumphantly. You laughed and recognized it as something you hadn’t gotten to eating before you moved out as he opened it.

“How old is that? When does it expire, even?”

“The bag is still sealed, so it's still fresh right?”

The bag popped open as he pulled it apart and dumped it into his bowl, taking a piece and eating it. “Still crunches.”

You laughed and shook your head, passing him the milk. The two of you sat there, you on the counter and him leaning against it as you two ate and talked quietly as the snow outside reflected warmth and light in the window and made miniature rainbows through the frost and decorations.

Your mother poked her head into the kitchen with a box full of decorations hanging out of it.

“There you are! When you’re done, can I borrow you two for a bit to help me finish getting these decorations up? Your father is out shovelling and handling the front of the house. Lord knows Ashley will have something to say if there’s no wreath on the front door..” She sighed and shook her head.

“Yeah, of course Mom.” You smiled and nodded, and Charlie gave a thumbs up with his mouth being full. She caught a glimpse of the colourful cereal in his bowl and gave it a strange look, but seemed to brush it off as she walked away.

“Ashley?” Charlie looked at you with a raised eyebrow after he swallowed.

“One of my aunts,” You glanced at him, then realized you should probably give him an idea of who he would be dealing with for the rest of the week. Charlie nodded intently as he brought another spoonful to his mouth while listening to you list off family members. “Then of course, there's my Aunt Ashley. She’s… She has high standards.” That was probably the easiest way to describe her eccentricities. “She lives the closest, so she was over a lot with her kids, Bella and Alice. Uh.. Be careful with Alice. She’s a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

Charlie squinted like he was trying to mentally write this all down.

“Don’t worry,” You laughed. “I’ll be sure to refresh you when they show up.”

He nodded, looking incredibly serious before he tilted his head back to drink the rest of the milk in the bowl, and there were a handful of thoughts you couldn’t repeat out loud that went through your mind when he pulled the bowl away and licked the remaining milk off his lips.

“Let’s uh- Let’s go help Mom, yeah?” You swallowed and glanced away, shaking the thoughts from your head. Charlie nodded and the two of you finished up in the kitchen before going through the house to find your mother.

Standing in the den, she was staring intently at the large Christmas tree with her hands on her hips. You knew this stance. She was probably planning out every possible way she could put garland and ribbons onto everything in sight, and would try to execute as many of those plans as possible before settling on one. At least you had Charlie, who was currently staring in awe at what decorations were already out.

“Just wait,” You leaned over and whispered. “It gets better.”

Charlie gave you a wide eyed look.

She quickly got everyone to work, pinning and taping things to the walls, lining each shelf with white stuffing to mimic snow, pulling out box after box of trinkets and little ornaments to set along everything. You wondered how many of these would get broken this year if the younger kids would be running around.

After the den was lathered in Christmas, you moved on to deck every hall and doorway with garland and lights. It would make for a magical walkway at the end, but for now you were watching Charlie struggle to not break a sweat with how much lifting and back and forth your mother had him do. Leave it to her to immediately put people to work when it comes to Christmas.

Taking a short break while she stepped outside to talk with your dad, you and Charlie sat down on the stairs after he finished wrapping the railing with glittering lights and tying bows to every other bannister.

“Where do you guys keep all this stuff year round?” Charlie glanced up to you as you straightened out one of the bows. “I mean it looks great but…”

“Storage containers in the basement. Trust me, getting it all out and decorating is the easy part.” A look of concern flashed across his face, which only made you laugh harder. “Don't worry, we’ll be gone by then.”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck with a quiet laugh.

“It's nice, though. Like it really adds to the atmosphere and everything. Makes it feel cozy.” He glanced around and flicked at one of the lights gently. “How many people are gonna show up anyways? It’s a big house but I feel like it's gonna get cramped pretty quick.”

You had to think about that for a while. Each side had quite a few people on it, but knowing who would actually be showing up was always a bargain. Humming quietly, you reached into the box of decorations and pulled out a little bell on a string, reaching forward and hanging it on Charlie's ear with a grin.

“I’m not sure. I'll do my best to give you a rundown on everyone before they start talking your ear off though.”

Charlie tilted his head and felt for the foreign object on his ear, giving a confused laugh as he pulled it off and looked at it, then immediately turned back at you with mischief in his eyes.

Your mother walked back in the house to see you two laughing and shouting as you practically wrestled on the stairs to adorn each other with decorations.

She cleared her throat and the two of you quickly stopped to look at her, having been caught. Your mother crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as she looked between you two and the mess of decorations you'd made.

“Having fun?”

After being made to clean up your mess, the three of you moved all over the house throughout the day decorating and redecorating, only stopping to get a drink or small snack. While looking through the remaining boxes, you held up a handful of mistletoe and looked at your mom.

“Do we really have to put all of this up? It seems a little… Much.”

“Of course we do, hun!” Your mother nodded like it was obvious and grabbed one from your hand, moving over to one of the doorways to hang it up among the garland. “It's tradition. Plus, it's nice! That's how you get all the cute candid pictures of people kissing.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to just trying your best to memorize where all of them were hung to avoid while walking around with Charlie.

“Go hang at least one in the front foyer for me, please?” She motioned to the remaining mistletoe in your hand then waved you towards the front of the house. You sighed and dropped the extra mistletoe back in the box, grabbing the stool she had pulled out a while ago and moved to the front of the house.

“Oh, there you are.” Charlie smiled as he walked up to you, watching you struggle to reach the garland to tie the mistletoe up.

“Yeah- Hey-” Reaching further didn’t seem to help either, the stool being just a bit too short to get up to where you needed. After a couple more moments of struggling, you sighed and turned to Charlie. “Care to lend me a hand?”

What you hadn’t expected was for Charlie to wrap his arms around your thighs from where you stood on the stool and lift you onto his shoulder.

Your mind went blank.

Why was that so easy for him??

“Is that tall enough?” Charlie’s voice was enough to snap you out of your daze and hang the mistletoe, trying your best not to think about how easily he grabbed you or about how you two were technically under mistletoe.

“Uh- Yeah that’s- Good- Great. Yeah, thanks.” You stumbled through the words, bringing your hands down to his shoulders to steady yourself before he set you back down and smiled up at you like he didn’t do anything.

Maybe this was an overreaction. Maybe you just had to calm down and he didn’t realize you meant for him to hang the stupid plant. Surely that was it! He was just taking the easiest path for him and there were no hidden intentions in his actions. Charlie was just an acquaintance doing you a major favour, and honestly you had to think about why he would even do such a thing? Someone like him must’ve had a nice family, or at least someone deserving of his charm to spend the holidays with, rather than spend a week keeping up some silly ruse and oh- Oh, he’s talking and you absolutely aren’t listening.

“Sorry, uh- Pardon?” You shook your head and looked down at him from your place on the stool.

“I asked how much you think is left?” Charlie tilted his head and looked around.

You stepped off the stool, silently praying you didn’t fall on him. That was the last thing you needed.

“Probably not much, Mom could handle the rest.”

The two of you walked around the house, collecting and stacking the empty decoration boxes. Hints of your mother’s work popped up around the house, the two of you almost constantly walking into mistletoe. Maybe keeping up with what doorways had it would be a bit harder than you expected.

Eventually everything was decorated and cleaned up, and you were helping your mother start supper. The radio gently hummed Christmas music through the room as you peeled potatoes and listened to your mother speak about some drama or other you had missed and she hadn’t told you about.

Charlie walked into the kitchen and watched you for a moment before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh- Hi, Charlie.” You glanced at him slightly, to see him softly smiling with his eyes shut. He just hummed warmly in response and moved his hands to your waist. You hardly skipped a beat falling back into conversation with your mother, despite the way you felt your face warm. He didn’t move for a while after that either, only pressing his face into your neck after a while, to which your mother gave a look that you waved off. After a while you had to quietly ask him to move so you could keep helping to prepare the dinner, to which he kissed your shoulder and whispered to you that he was going to take a nap. Your mother teased you when you seemed to short circuit after he pulled away. You finished helping and did your best not to think about the warmth emanating from where he had kissed you, and when the oven timer went off an hour or so later, your mother asked you to go wake him.

“Charlie..? Are you awake?” You gave the door a soft knock. There was the sound of some kind of movement in the bedroom, and then the door opened. Charlie’s hair was messy and his eyes were still tired. “Oh. Uh, dinner is ready..”

“Oh, already? Alright..” He yawned and nodded. You tried to ignore the way his tired voice got to you. He had always woken up some time before you, is that really what he sounded like after an hour of sleep?? “I’ll wash up and be down there soon.”

The conversation at dinner seemed to be entirely around Charlie and his interests and history. You wondered if they were trying to do some kind of weird interrogation or shovel talk, but when he started talking about some of his nerdier interests you saw your mother light up. There it was. You definitely knew what this talk was about.

The day ended with your mother telling you that tomorrow would be full of baking and that the sooner you could get up and help, the more the two of you could get done. Mentally preparing for that, you nodded and wished her goodnight. Charlie stayed up a bit later, waking you slightly when he came to bed, apologizing quietly as he moved the blankets. You don’t exactly remember falling back asleep, but you could’ve sworn you felt something warm press against your forehead.

You woke up before Charlie this time, watching him for a moment as his chest slowly breathed. Slipping out of the bed, you grabbed your clothes and slipped into the bathroom to change before you headed downstairs.

It was mornings like these you really missed. The sun freshly risen, pouring onto the tiled floor through the frosty windows, giving the perfect mix of warmth and chill as you padded into the kitchen and quickly made yourself something for breakfast. The birdsong outside melted into the sound of the radio as you turned it on and lowered the volume to a non-disturbing hum. Rifling through cabinets you pulled out the usual cookbooks and recipes you’d need today and any of the usual baking necessities. Your mother yawned as she walked into the kitchen and smiled at you as you tied an apron around your waist

“Someone’s eager this morning. Did you miss this that much?” She laughed quietly and hugged you before making herself something to eat. The two of you quickly got to work after that, making doughs and mixtures, prepping for any later baking. There were a few things she had already gotten the headstart on earlier that she took out of the fridge to check on.

Charlie walked down a while later, rubbing his eyes. He seemed a little taken aback to see the kitchen already so messy, taking it all in. You stopped to admire his tired look, the way the sun glowed against his skin and lit his hair up, the dust roaming the air making him look like he glittered. He moved his gaze to you and gave a lopsided smile before walking up and gently brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Wh-?”

“You had flour on your face,” He hummed. His voice was tired like yesterday, and it took all of your power to not melt into his hands right then and there. You almost forgot your mother was in the room.

“I have to help with baking all day, so I’ll have to stay in the kitchen, I’m sorry.” Charlie shook his head.

“I’d love to help, if that’s okay. My mom owns a bakery, so I’m not unfamiliar with baking.”

It reminded you how little you actually knew of him. Sure, you could talk for hours but with such little time in general, there was still a lot you were completely unaware of. The sobering pang of guilt that ran through your nervous system ruined the soft moment between you at the thought of it.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and you found him another apron to wear, but the only one left that was his size was half of a pair for your parents. Your moms had been stained and discarded a while ago. You tried not to laugh at the awful baking pun on the front, but Charlie seemed to light up as he read the apron. He proceeded to make similar puns throughout the day, and no matter how hard you tried to groan and act like you hated it, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face whenever you heard the pride in his voice while he made one.

Your mother handed baking off to the two of you after the first batch, and you had half a mind to assume it wasn’t because she needed to “do things” like she said, but rather that she was just giving you room to be alone with him. Not that you needed it, you were just two just two friends baking together. ..Though you supposed she didn't know that part.

You sighed as you kneaded the dough in your hands against the counter. You’d been working at it for a couple minutes now and couldn’t figure out what was going wrong or why it wouldn’t come together properly. Charlie walked over from where he was mixing icing and stood next to you to peer at your hands.

“It keeps falling apart, I don’t know what I did wrong...” You glanced at him for a moment before squishing it all together again. Charlie hummed and turned to look for something as you tried to start a proper conversation. “You said your mom owned a bakery? I didn't know that.” He walked back over with something in his hands, and you quickly lost your train of thought as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you to grab the dough, leaning into your ear with a quiet tone.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

You were suddenly very glad he was pressing you against the counter, because you swore your knees would’ve given out from under you right then and there otherwise. Your face felt warm as his chest pressed against your back and his arms flexed on either side of your shoulders. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could almost feel his grin despite how hard you tried to avoid looking at him until you remembered how to breathe and wow, was it warm in here? It was really warm. Maybe you left the oven open? God, it was so warm–

“There. You just needed to add a little moisture. Butter works fine for that.” He slowly pulled away, and it felt like you had freezer burn everywhere he had touched. You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, desperately trying to act normal.

“Yeah.. Thanks.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. Of course it did.

Charlie chuckled and went back over to the icing and checked on it before moving over to where the piping bags sat for now. You took a deep breath and reached for the rolling pin, trying to keep your cool. What the hell was that?? There was nobody but you two in the kitchen right now, right? If that was part of the act, who was it for? Did he see something you hadn’t? Some hopeful part of you piped up with the thought that it wasn’t an act. That he wanted to do that. That he meant it. A much more realistic part of your mind suggested that he simply didn’t realize what that just did to you. From lifting you yesterday to what just happened? Yeah, maybe he was just a little oblivious. You couldn’t see the dramatic irony to this.

After you had finally rolled out the dough and put a few batches into the oven, you moved to help Charlie with the icing. He seemed to be lacking a bit, and it was taking up your cooling racks.

“Need some help over here?” You smiled and glanced around at the cookies.

“Uhh,” He started, squinting as his tongue poked out in focus. “Mm.. Maybe. I thought I'd have more done by now.” Charlie stood up and looked across the eight cookies he had so dutifully iced thus far. His eyebrows furrowed. You grabbed one of the other colours and wiped off the excess that had leaked out with your thumb.

“Don’t worry. Worst case, we just eat the rest of the icing and tell mom we ran out.” You shrugged with a playful grin, bringing the icing on your thumb to your mouth — only for Charlie to grab your hand and steal the icing with his own finger. “Hey–!!”

He shot you a grin as he licked his lips, so you squeezed a little more out. This time he grabbed your wrist and pulled it towards his mouth. You gasped and shoved your hand forwards, smearing it on the corner of his lips and onto his cheek. Five minutes later the two of you were messy and covered in icing, bags now much lighter from smearing it on each other and trying to eat the icing.

You only stopped when there was a knock on the door and your mother walked through the kitchen to reach it, stopping to look at you two with a bewildered gaze for a moment, before continuing on when another knock sounded.

You two looked at each other and tried not to laugh, before you ultimately failed and burst into laughter. It only took one warm cloth and a couple minutes to wipe up most of the mess, meanwhile you heard the door open and the sound of shuffling and muffled talking.

A familiar face poked into the kitchen, breaking out into a grin.

“Ohh, there you are!” Isabella grinned and straightened up, walking in with a bag over her shoulder and her arms out for a hug. You gasped and handed the cloth to Charlie before making your way over to hug her.

“Bella! How are you??” You pulled away and looked her over with a matching smile.

“Not as good as you apparently,” She leaned over to look at Charlie. “Who’s this?”

Her younger sister, Alice, came around the corner and nearly fell over as her socks made her slide to a stop. A shout came from where she had been, likely from her mother scolding her for running in the house.

“Oh my god!!” You quickly felt two arms around your waist as she careened into you for a hug, once again unable to stop short due to her socks. “I missed you so much! It’s been like, forever??” Alice stared up at you with a gasp from where she was bent over to hug you.

“You saw me at Easter, Alice.” You laughed and pulled her up to hug properly, where she quickly gasped again.

“Hello there, handsome-”

“Al, give him a chance to introduce himself before you start with that.” Isabella groaned and pulled her sister back by the shoulder.

You laughed at their usual antics and glanced back at Charlie, who was quickly trying to wipe any leftover flour and icing off himself to look presentable.

“This is Charlie. My boyfriend.” The word came out more confident than when you had said it to your parents, but you tried not to dwell on that.

“Your boyfriend.” Isabella raised her eyebrow suspiciously. “The boyfriend?”

A bit of that guilt came back as a burning sensation in your throat you couldn't quite swallow down. Isabella was always the one to see through your lies no matter how hard you tried. You never quite forgave her for telling your mother you were lying when she found the broken TV as kids.

“Not bad.” She nodded approvingly.

You tried not to make your sigh of relief too obvious.

“Sooo…” Alice started, slipping out of her sister's grasp before looking Charlie up and down. “Got any brothers? Maybe some cute friends..?”

Charlie laughed nervously and pushed his hair out of the way, coming up to your side and leaning against you slightly. Alice could be a bit much at first, so you leaned back against him in what you hoped was read as a reassuring movement.

“I don’t know about that..” He smiled apologetically.

“Alice, come help your father with the bags please?” Your Aunt Ashley’s voice came from somewhere closer out of sight, saving Charlie from this conversation for now. He sighed, but you knew better. She’d be back.

A dinging started behind you signaling that the oven timer was through, causing Charlie to pat your shoulder as he turned to get it. Conversation with Isabella came as easy as ever, only for her to fall silent after a minute. You turned and followed her gaze to see Charlie bent over pulling out a rack of cookies. His hair fell over his face and the apron hugged him rather nicely. Any heat on your face was silently blamed on the open oven.

“Nice.”

You scoffed and shoved her halfheartedly. You weren't disagreeing with her, but she didn't need to say it.

Charlie turned and kicked the oven door shut in one smooth motion, raising the tray with a grin as he moved to the cooling trays.

“Bella, was it? Care for a snack?” He motioned to the pile of undecorated cookies, then glanced at the subtle remains of your icing fight and quickly smudged it away with his hand.

Isabella glanced at you, then at him. She didn't need to say it, there was some snarky comment bouncing around up there loud enough for you to hear it anyways. She had always been like this, since you were kids really. It drove her mother mad, but she managed to worm her way out of any sort of punishment every time. You really wished you knew how she did it.

“Yeah, I'll take a cookie.” She shrugged and raised a hand. Charlie looked at you, then around for your mother, and tossed a cookie toward your cousin.

They quickly got settled in, already having usual places from how often they come over for more than a night, meanwhile you and Charlie finished up what baking was left and tidied up the kitchen.

You moved in such sync that it almost felt natural, like this is what you were meant to be doing with your time. It made you feel warm inside, easily passing things to him and sweeping as he wiped the counters down. By the end, the kitchen looked like it had never been touched and smelled like all sorts of freshly baked treats.

The sun had already begun to set, and you had managed to escape the constant questions of your Aunt for now. You loved her, really! But from the moment she had seen you it was a hug, a kiss on each cheek and nonstop questions ever since. Doing your best to answer didn't seem to help much either because every answer opened up a hundred more questions thrown at you too fast to possibly answer them all. Sure, you felt a little guilty throwing Charlie under the bus here by slipping away when he would surely be the next victim, but he had it handled! … Probably.

The front of the house was shoveled to create a simple salted walkway that you followed to the front of the garage to sit on the hood of your car.

“Oh, hey.”

Your attention was caught by Isabella leaning against your parents car, out of sight of the windows and front door. She had something in her hand that she pressed to her lips and pulled away, turning her head to exhale smoke. Oh. That was how she stood her own mother.

“Hey, Bella.” You walked up and leaned against your car across from her, to which she held the pen out to you.

“Hey. Wanna hit?”

“No, thanks. I'm trying to at least keep it together for the week.” You laughed and shook your head a little, putting your hands in your pockets as you looked out across the street at the glittering snow and colourful lights.

“Ohh, yeah. Trying to keep it together for that so-called boyfriend of yours, right?”

“... So-called?”

“Yeah,” She chuckled and nodded. “There's no way you're actually dating him, right?”

“Look, if you have something against Charlie-”

“No, dumbass. He's fine. I'm talking about you.”

You stared at her, confused. So, she continued. “You guys have something going on, but whatever it is, it isn't dating. Not for as long as you say, at least. So either you've been lying about this guy and only recently started dating, or you aren't dating at all and you're faking it.”

“When did you get so perceptive?” You crossed your arms. Trying to lie to her would get you nowhere. “And what's it matter to you?”

She shrugged and took another puff, blowing it into the wind away from you.

“It's not too hard to see. You might have to step your game up though. If Alice catches on it's over for you.” Isabella joked. “I dunno why, though. It doesn't seem like you to pull this kind of stunt.”

Sighing, you figured hiding it from her would only make things worse.

“I got dumped over text by my actual boyfriend.”

There was a beat, and then Isabella broke out into laughter, covering her mouth.

“Over text??”

You gave her an unimpressed look.

“Oh my god- You aren't gonna let that slide, right? You totally have got to kick his ass for that one.” She shook her head, trying to stifle her giggles. After a couple moments she took a deep breath. “Have you even let yourself come to terms with that? I mean, c’mon. When was it?”

“A couple days ago. Just before we drove out.”

Isabella's eyes bulged.

“And you're just? Okay with that?? Acting like nothing happened? Cuz’ you gotta, like, go kick his ass and then properly cry about that or something. You earned it after it. … Can I see the text?”

Sighing, you pulled your phone out and opened the texts, handing it to her. Isabella nodded as she read over it and hissed.

“What an asshole…” There was a minute of silence as she handed you back your phone and took another hit. “I'm sure your man in there wouldn't do the same, though.”

“Oh shut up-” You shoved her, to which she laughed.

“I’m just saying! He seems like prime boyfriend material. You should get on that. Literally.”

The two of you continued talking a little, and you really had to reckon with that thought. Did you like him that much? Surely you wouldn't be having these feelings about anyone else had they come, right? She pocketed her pen and went inside, leaving you to watch the occasional car drive by and the lights on each house flash and change. Eventually you followed her back in and hung up your coat, grabbing a pair of cookies as you made your way back to the main gathering. Charlie was sat on the couch trying to keep up with the conversation, so you just sat next to him and handed a cookie. He lit up at the sight of you and thanked you as he took it, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you leaned up against him.

Isabella gave you a playful look, to which you rolled your eyes and slightly moved closer to Charlie.

You found yourself warming up to the thought of this being something you could strive for, something reasonable and within reach. When that guilt started to rise again, Charlie squeezed your shoulders and made a small joke. The warmth of his arm and his tone drove away whatever bad feelings there were in your mind. Right now, everything was okay. You and Charlie were warm and happy and having a good time. That's all that mattered.

Considering you had a much earlier start than usual, you excused yourself to bed and Charlie quickly agreed. Isabella made some comment about you two having fun, and you had to try not to laugh as her mother smacked her arm. You walked up the stairs after Charlie and changed in your respective places. After you finished you fell into the bed and sighed, shutting your eyes. There was a knock and Charlie walked in a moment later, seeing you there.

“Tired?”

You nodded, letting out some sort of groan in response.

“Yeah, me too. I'm whipped.”

You peeked an eye open to see him grinning.

“Charlie.”

“Completely cooked. ” He walked over to his side of the bed.

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“I'm just saying…” Charlie followed your lead and fell onto the bed, smiling at you when you turned to look at him. “We really got that bread.”

“Stop.”

“Hey, at least I wasn't like your cousin. She was baked.”

You groaned loudly and shoved a hand into his face, biting your lip to stop from giving him the reaction he was looking for. Charlie laughed and pulled your hand away, continuing to make awful quips until the two of you fell asleep.

In the early light of Christmas Eve, you slowly blinked to life after a dream that was already melting away like watercolours before realizing there was something warm wrapped around you. In your haze, and the chill of the room around you. This didn’t ring any alarms in your mind at first, instead opting to hold it closer. You entwined your fingers with the ones against your stomach before you stopped. Fingers? Blinking open your eyes, you look down and see what you immediately put together to be Charlie’s arm wrapped around you. The world seems to hold its breath as you do, carefully picking up his arm and moving it back onto his own chest. He groans and stretches, and you quickly avert your gaze as his shirt rides up. Looking through your closet is when you hear him yawn and the bed creaks slightly as he sits up. You poke your head out and smile at him.

“Good morning.”

He rubs his eyes and yawns again, looking over to find you, nodding and smiling softly.

“Good morning. Anything planned for today..?”

You hummed and grabbed your clothes for the day.

“I think it’s just going to be a lot of socializing. The kids are all excited for Christmas tomorrow and most of the adults are here. It uh…” You hesitate and glance away in thought, before looking back to Charlie apologetically. “It might be a bit stuffy today. I’m sure we’re gonna get swarmed with those cliche family questions that they’ve been nice enough to hold off on. Once that wine gets uncorked though, we’re in for it. Ashley is well acquainted with how to pour a new glass of wine…”

Charlie laughed and stretched again, standing up and moving over to his suitcase to grab clothes. The two of you split up to get dressed and walked down the stairs together.

The day was warm and filled with your family running about and chatting, but you knew this was tame compared to what tomorrow would look like. Christmas music filled every silence and there were multiple glasses of eggnog laying around. The tree looked more and more full as new gifts were added to the underside, eventually spilling out and off the tree skirt. Conversations felt like the same interaction over and over again, asking how they were, they asked how you were. You’d give the same generic answers over and over with a little extra here and there for flavour depending on who you were talking to. Sure, it was repetitive and a little boring at times, but it was Christmas, and this was the most you’d talk to some of these people all year. It wasn’t that you were distant, they just had their own busy lives.

Charlie would occasionally pop in and join the conversation, talking about his own life when asked, or about one of your made up stories of your supposed love life. That guilt swirled in your gut again, rising like bile in your throat. Your realization last night wasn't helping either, making this even worse. The way he got along with your family so easily, the way they would make remarks when he wasn't there about how lucky you were to have found him. Honestly, you agreed. You couldn't understand how you'd lucked into getting such a wonderful man to ever agree to such a stupid plan, but here he was, playing the part perfectly.

Stepping into the backyard and out of the general hum of chatter in the house, you took a deep breath. The cold winter air stung in such a sobering way that it calmed you instantly. It was just an act, you reminded yourself. You'll go back to school and act like this never happened. Sure, your relationship with him would have changed by now, but what did that matter? It didn't change that this meant nothing. You were just putting on an act for your family.

Your feelings were different, but how could you possibly bring up the thought of actually dating after this? Sure, nothing had gone too wrong - which you were thankful for - but surely it would be awkward to drive home just to ask him out again, right? Considering he had agreed just for entertainment's sake, you figured he probably didn't share your feelings. Sure, he’d been much more forward than you had expected but maybe that was part of his act.

Wallowing in your wishy-washy thoughts, you almost missed the way the door opened and shut behind you, and Charlie stepped out with his jacket on. He smiled and gave a quiet wave as he walked over and sat on the side of the porch next to you, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

You two didn’t say more than that for a while, sitting there and watching the stars in the sky as snow started to fall. It was hard to see the stars normally at home, so you appreciated every moment you could watch them glitter and shine. The snow was small and light as it fell, flashing little shimmers of light caught from the house behind you. Charlie stayed silent in your peripheral vision, and you let your leg fall against his. Sure, this was all an act, but it felt nice nonetheless. Would it be so bad to allow yourself the guilty pleasure of enjoying this just a little?

A shooting star flashed across the sky, disappearing so quickly you almost weren't sure you’d seen it in the first place. You gasped as you pointed to the sky and turned to Charlie, only to see him staring at you.

“Did you see that? The shooting star??”

“Oh,” He breathed and looked up at the sky. “No, I must've just missed it. Are you gonna make a wish? Make sure you get what you want for Christmas?”

You looked at the sky again too and tilted your head. Sure, you could’ve made a wish. You could have wished for a lot of things. Good grades, a better new year, a new car might be nice, but…

“Honestly? I don’t need to.” You shook your head and turned to face Charlie with a smile. “I already got what I really wanted for Christmas.”

“Really? You haven’t even opened any presents.” Charlie laughed a little, looking at you.

There were snowflakes adorning his hair and eyelashes, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold outside. Each breath he took let out a little puff that circled his head and made him glow under the moonlight.

“I couldn’t ask for anything better than you.”

His face changed, ever so slightly, but you kept talking.

“I mean, honestly, you were the best thing I think I ever could have asked for. You showed up right when I needed help and you didn’t turn me away or call me crazy when I asked you to do this with me. My parents love you, I’m sure my aunts and uncles are going to miss you from every other family gathering I attend, and you get along with my cousins like you’ve always been part of the family. You’re an amazing guy, Charlie. You’re funny and sweet and so, so genuine that I just… I don’t know how to thank you enough for this. You saved me from what would’ve been a week of the same question over and over again, having to tell everyone that my ex wasn’t what I thought he was. Embarrassing myself. Stuff like that doesn’t die in this family, y’know? I mean, Alice still gets it from people about this boy she dated in middle school who embarrassed her. I couldn’t handle that this Christmas.” As you finished your ramble, you looked him in the eyes and felt your heart tighten. He looked.. Upset. It wasn’t anger, probably, but he looked conflicted. Maybe hurt? “Charlie?-”

“I..” His hand twitched in his lap, starting to move before it fell limp against his lap again. He took a deep breath and avoided your gaze. “I think I should go.”

“What? Charlie, wait- Did I say something?-”

Shaking his head, Charlie stood up and brushed the snow off of him before quickly going back inside.

Your stomach writhed with even more guilt as the area around you was silent, save for the whistling of the wind that drove a chill down your back. Did you just ruin something? Did you say too much and let your feelings leak through? Maybe you had made him uncomfortable with such an emotional confession. Tears stung your eyes as a lump gathered in your throat. It was Christmas Eve and you had just fucked up.

Snow continued to fall around you, swirling in the wind as you put your head in your arms, trying not to cry. You weren't sure how long you spent out there, but when you couldn't feel your cheeks anymore, you had figured it was long enough that you should probably go inside and warm up before you got frostbite.

It seemed like all of your family had gone to sleep by now, and the lights were slowly being turned out one by one as your mother made her way around the house. She caught up with you in the den, watching you stare at the lights on the Christmas tree. New presents had appeared since the kids had gone to sleep, labeled that they were from Santa. A set of bikes, newly stuffed stockings, even the milk and cookies had been taken from to keep up the magic. The kids would love it.

“Merry Christmas, honey.” She came up beside you, her smile faltering when she saw your face. “What's wrong?”

“I think I messed up, mom.” You sniffled and the sting of tears made themselves known again. Turning to face her, the Christmas lights lit up the room with soft colour and reflected off her face that made the world seem just a bit less real. You figured it would be best to just admit it. “I.. Charlie isn't actually my boyfriend.”

Your mother raised her eyebrows and nodded, leading you to the dining room to sit at the table. The wood was cool against your skin as you tried your best not to choke up or spiral any further. You had already made a mess, you just had to figure out how to clean it up. When your mother sat down across from you and took your hands in hers, you continued.

“He isn't my boyfriend. My actual boyfriend dumped me a day before we drove out here over text because he.. Wanted to work on himself, I guess? I probably should have listened when my friends told me they thought they saw him with someone else at a party. I thought he was good, Mom. I really thought he was different, like everything I said he was. And then he suddenly ended things and- And I wasn't sure what to do, I couldn't come home without anybody. It would've been salt in the wound to be humiliated in front of everyone after letting myself get hurt like that.

And then I found Charlie, and I asked if he was willing to just.. Come and pretend to be my boyfriend and- Honestly I didn't expect him to agree at all. But he did. He did, and he's so..” You laughed tearfully and shook your head. “He's so perfect. He's everything I thought my actual boyfriend was. It's like it all comes naturally to him, like he doesn't even have to try to be funny and make people comfortable. You saw how well he got along with everyone this week, and you said yourself you love him! But I… It was supposed to be easy. A week of avoiding embarrassment with a guy I only sort of knew, and then we would go back to school and I’d tell everyone we broke up. Make it seem like this whole thing where I threw him out and I was in the right. Not dumped over text.

But I don't think I can do that, Mom. I.. I think I’m in love with him? How could I not? He's been nothing but kind and perfect to me and so sweet and I never want this week to end because I know that it means things will go back to normal and I don't know how to ask anything more of him after this- I don't even know why he agreed to this in the first place!! But I tried to tell him how much I appreciated him outside earlier and he looked so… Upset. Like I had done something wrong, and then he said he had to go and came inside. And-” The world blurred and smeared as tears filled your vision. “I think- I think I might've ruined what little I had with him-”

Your mother nodded, listening to you ramble on with an intent look on her face. She squeezed your hands and brought them to her mouth to kiss. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and looked at you until you silently took a couple of breaths yourself.

“Honey… I don’t think you ruined anything. Charlie seems like a wonderful man, he would tell you if you had truly ruined anything. He didn't seem angry when he came in, I saw your uncle ask if he was heading upstairs and he just seemed a little.. lost with himself.” She shook her head and smiled. “I knew from the stars you two weren't dating.”

“What??” Your eyebrows furrowed. Were you really that obvious?

“You had said things about your boyfriend that didn't quite line up with Charlie. Things you wouldn't have said about him, that I'm sure you had just forgotten you said.”

“Mom I’m sorry-” She cut you off by squeezing your hands again.

“Don't be sorry, dear. I knew you had feelings for him anyways.” You gave her a quizzical look, going to speak before she answered your question. “Mothers always know these kinds of things. I know how you act, and I love you, but honey you're not the best actor in the family… I've been watching you two all week, and I’m surprised you haven't said something sooner. I would've kept it to myself, though, because I think you need to see how this plays out.”

“I don't know how I can fix this though, Mom. I- I don't even know what I did wrong!”

She smiled knowingly.

“I don't think you did anything wrong, dear. But if you keep these feelings to yourself I think you'll find yourself worse off than if you didn't.” Your mother squeezed your hands again before letting go and standing up. “I've seen the way he looks at you, too. When he thinks nobody is looking, or when you aren't paying attention. When he thinks nobody but you and him are there.” Patting your shoulder as she walked towards the stairs, she gave you one last smile. “It’s Christmas after all. Maybe you got another gift you didn't know you asked for.”

With that, she bid you goodnight and made her way upstairs to her bedroom, leaving you alone in the dining room under the light. The house was near silent aside from the whistling outside of the wind.

You shut the light off and swallowed as you tried to reason through your mothers words. She was a bit of an optimist, so maybe she was just being hopeful, or maybe she was right. Maybe she had seen something you hadn't yet noticed.

The door to your room was left slightly open when you walked up, giving a soft knock as you pushed the door open. Charlie was under the blankets on his far side of the bed. There was no movement other than the steady breathing of his chest. You changed quickly and walked up to the bed, hesitating.

“Charlie..? Are you awake?” Your voice was quiet and dry. There was no answer from Charlie, and he hardly even shifted. Assuming he was asleep, you sighed and resigned yourself to sleeping on your far side of the bed, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Tomorrow would be the busiest day of all and if you had done something to upset him, you really weren't sure how well this would go. Maybe it would have been all for naught if you went and messed things up on Christmas Eve. Drifting to sleep as you tried to ignore the way the soft sound of his breathing made you feel, one final sigh made your exit from the waking world known.

You were woken in darkness, blinking your eyes open to barely see Charlie in the very same knitted sweater he had shown you at the start of the week.

“Good morning sleepyhead.”

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, yawning.

“It's still dark..?”

“Merry Christmas.” Charlie's voice was little more than a whisper, and you felt yourself smile at the pure warmth of the tone.

“Oh… Merry Christmas..”

“Your little cousins are running from room to room, I figured I would wake you up a little nicer than that.”

“You're too sweet, Charlie..” You hummed and looked up at him. Even in the darkness he looked beautiful, and you blearily wondered if you were still dreaming. Having such a wonderful man wake you in your bed to go downstairs for Christmas morning with your family, not a care in the world, seemed like a dream come true.

“I'll go stand in the hall and let you change, I think if someone doesn't stop Elliot he's gonna tear open every package and parcel he can get his hands on.” Charlie quietly slipped out of the room and you immediately heard him make his presence known to the distant chaos you slowly became aware of as you woke up.

… Okay, there were a few cares in your world. The strangeness of last night came back to you slowly. You had expected him to be cold, maybe. Or mad. At least a little upset! But he spoke to you like you were a literal angel, like waking you any faster than your body wanted to would have broken you. It was attractive, to say the least.

A scream from downstairs broke you of your thoughts and you remembered there were gifts with children's names on them, and they wouldn't wait around for you.

Stepping up to your closet, you fished out the sweater you had told Charlie about, smiling down at it. It was a bit old and a gift from your Grandmother, but it still fit nicely and had softened over the years to be a little less itchy. You wore a shirt underneath just to be safe.

With each step down the stairs you had to take a breath and remind yourself that you had an act to put on with Charlie. If you had messed up, you at least owed it to him to keep your attitude nice for the day. You were both adults, you knew any issues you had could be resolved in due time. Charlie wouldn't just let it fester if you had hurt his feelings or said something wrong, right? You had to hope that was the case, at least.

Right as you step off the last step, your younger cousins come running up to you with excitement, shouting about Santa Claus, the half eaten cookies, and the new gifts. You do your best to wave off the lingering sleep in your mind to match their enthusiasm. When that's enough to satisfy them before they can actually open their gifts, they loudly run off to their next victims – You catch Charlie's eye from across the den.

His eyes crinkle at the sight of you, then flick down to your sweater and he sits up, pointing at his own for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before patting the seat beside him enthusiastically. It takes you a moment to mentally unstick your feet from the floor and walk over to him. It was Christmas morning in front of your family - if anything was wrong, this was probably your last reprieve before things fully went wrong and you could see the damages. As selfish as it sounded, you felt as though you should take advantage of that.

“So you really do have a matching sweater?” Charlie giggled and pulled you down to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around you. “I'm glad you decided to match with me.”

“And leave you hanging? Just wait until you see whatever Mom has got on this year. It's gonna put both of us to shame.” You leaned in to whisper as early morning chaos still reigned.

“Hey lovebirds, say cheese!” Your aunt had her phone out already, and you perked up just in time to smile as the flash dazzled you and Charlie.

“You ready for a whole day of.. That?” You glanced to Charlie, who chuckled.

“Bring it on.”

Rolling your eyes, you waited for everyone to wake up and join the family in the den. The younger kids instantly started opening gifts and throwing wrapping paper everywhere when they were given the go ahead. Eventually your dad started a garbage bag of scraps and tried his best to rally the kids into one area with their new toys as the adults started opening their much smaller gifts.

It was always amusing watching people open gifts, seeing the way even grown adults would get excited over certain things they wanted, or how they tried to hide their dislike or disappointment over certain other gifts. One of your aunts was given an ornate music box that seemed to be hand-crafted, and it seemed like she was ready to cry as she hugged your uncle, thanking him. Meanwhile one of your uncles got a pair of socks with little reindeer printed on them, and you swore you could see him try to set them on fire with his eyes.

Charlie would lift his arm whenever it was your turn to open something, watching you make a neat little pile at your feet of opened gifts. He seemed content to just sit and watch, making little jokes about certain gifts until your father walked over with a small box. He lifted his arm again, but your dad held the box to him a little more insistently.

“Wh.. For me-?” Charlie pointed at himself and sat up, taking it hesitantly.

“Well… We didn't want you to feel left out, but the stores were a bit scarce so close to the holiday when I went to get you something. So we hope it's okay.” Your dad smiled and nodded, stepping back to his place by the tree.

Charlie looked at you a bit bewildered, and carefully tore open the wrapping paper. It was a couple of Pokémon card packs from the store, and a set of six-sided dice. You almost went to say something about how they just did their best to understand, but Charlie's eyes lit up as he pulled them out of the box, carefully holding the dice as he inspected them. It was a set of black dice with white dots, subtly reflecting the lights on the tree.

“You didn't..” He looked up at your parents and shook his head slowly. “You didn't have to get me anything.” His hand slipped into yours, squeezing so tight it shook a little. Glancing at Charlie, you could tell he was trying so hard to play it cool, but the way his lips twitched and fought off a grin was undermining all of his attempts.

Your mother shook her head.

“What kind of parents in law would we be if we left you out?? We’ll get you something better next year, we promise.” She sent a wink your way, and you knew it was more for you than it was Charlie. You tried to ignore the warmth that crawled up your neck at the implication there. Next year. Did she really have that much faith in you to fix things? Did she have so much confidence in her ability to see what you can't that she believed Charlie would come home with you next year?

The next gift was picked, and Charlie turned to you with wide, excited eyes as he held up the card packs. It snapped you out of your thoughts and you smiled at him. You hadn't expected it would make him so happy, but the way he glowed was so much better than you could've imagined.

“I take it you're happy then?” You whispered, and he nodded, flipping through the handful of packs.

“I didn't- They didn't need to get me anything! I didn't expect to get anything..”

“Well,” You shrugged and leaned against him, sighing. “If you're part of the family, they're gonna get you something. I'm just glad I didn't tell them what he would've wanted, in case they got something you would've hated.”

Charlie shook his head as he chose one of the packs, setting the others down in his lap gently.

“I wasn't expecting anything, though. I would've enjoyed just watching you open things.” He fiddled with the wrapping of the pack and you looked down at it, then up at him.

���Well.. Go on.”

“What?”

“Open the pack. I wanna see what you got.”

He smiles and you set your head on his shoulder, watching as he opens the pack and flicks through the cards. He explains each card to you, explaining the differences on each of them, and you were more than happy to let him quietly ramble on as he grabbed the next pack.

“Do you wanna open this one?”

“Nah. All yours.”

Charlie nods, peeling open the next pack. It was impressive how quickly he put you at ease, and you couldn't find it in yourself to worry about what may come later, so long as you could stay in the moment of him explaining the rarity of certain cards. It was cute.

The rest of the day went by in a blur as people showed up and left, some family friends popping in for the day just to visit, a few neighbours showing up to gift some treats that you watched your younger cousins sneak into just a little too early. Your mother walked around at one point with her phone facetiming your grandmother, who insisted on having an entire conversation about you wearing the sweater, to which you just had to drag Charlie into frame to show that you were matching. This started a whole new slough of questions about your relationship, and the two of you had to explain repeatedly that you weren't ready for marriage, let alone kids.

Christmas music played loudly and the sound of far too many conversations loudly filled the air during the afternoon, and after being pulled between so many, you found your head was spinning too fast to keep up with, so you snuck out to the front foyer for a bit of space. Charlie seemed to have the same idea as he stumbled out of the kitchen, followed by the sound of your uncles laughing.

“They aren't getting to you in there, are they? Do I need to go tell them to lay off?” You teased lightly, leaning against the doorway as you took a deep breath.

“Pshh, No..” Charlie shook his head and walked up to you with a warm smile, though you noticed his cheeks were slightly pink. “Just got a little warm in there. Your family is really, uh..”

“Nosy?”

“Thorough.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head as you straightened up. Your gaze drifts up and your face falls slightly.

Mistletoe.

Charlie's gaze follows yours and he freezes. The buzz of the house seems to fade away as you focus on it, as if you found yourself locked in this little bubble with Charlie, and suddenly every guilty feeling writhed under your skin all at once.

“Oh.”

“I'm- I’m sorry,” You start, shaking your head as you turn to step to the side. You had been doing so well acting normal, of course you'd find yourself under the very same mistletoe he helped you hang. “We can move-”

“Wait.”

Charlie's arm stops you, and you look at his face to see him flushed, with the same expression from when you started talking last night.

“I..” He shifts, and you move back to standing under the mistletoe with him, looking at him intently. “I know that when you asked me to help you with this, you were a bit desperate and just looking for somebody to help you, and I’m sure I wasn't your first choice considering how little time we had spent together, but… This week has been the best week of my life I think, and I don't ever want it to end if it means we have to go back to the way things were. I don't want to go another day without hearing your voice, or watching you try not to laugh at my jokes - which I know you think are funny. I know this was mostly to save face in front of your family and that we haven't gotten much of a chance to genuinely get to know each other, but I would love to get to know you better, if I can.” His eyes soften and the confliction on his face fades into something much more vulnerable. Charlie's hands move up to your shoulders, and that feeling of freezer burn starts radiating under his touch again. “I want more of this, if you're okay with that. More of you.”

Charlie's eyes flicker between your own, carefully watching as you stand there, stunned.

“And.. Stop me, if I’ve taken this wrong. If my attempts to get your attention this week have been unwarranted. Stop me if this isn't what you want.” His hand moves to your cheek. “Please.”

You don't stop him, shaking your head and leaning into his hand.

“I won't.”

Charlie smiles as he pulls your face to his, gently kissing you for just a moment. He pulls away, just enough to breathe. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and quickly pull him into a deeper kiss.

The sound of cheers and whoops fill the hall and you pull away to see a handful of family members standing in the hallway, watching you two. Your mom gives you a knowing smile before you stare and silently wave them all off. Isabella is the last one to leave, holding her phone up with a mischievous grin and a thumbs up.

Charlie chuckled lowly and kissed your cheek, and when you were sure your little audience had dispersed, you two smiled at each other and kissed again.

“I told you I’d surprise you.”

“You didn't let me down.”

The rest of the night was full of playful gazes and quick kisses when nobody's looking. Quiet whispers of private conversation passed back and forth with no room for anyone to eavesdrop. Gentle touches and subtle movements, with something a little more genuine behind them – you find that not much changes in these little acts from the rest of the week, as if they've always had the same intent behind them just with more hesitation.

Dinner goes about as well as you'd expect, with one of your uncles trying to stir up some trouble and having to be talked down as a big scene was made. Usually you'd be much more upset about this sort of thing, but whenever you sighed or tensed up, Charlie's hand squeezed yours from under the table, and everything was okay again. You stayed up and drank a little after with the rest of the adults in the family, the conversations around the house a little more soft spoken, albeit a little more loose lipped as well. Those who were either already planning on staying, or had drank more than they meant to, trickled off one by one to their rooms, and slowly the unused lights were turned off until it was you and Charlie alone in the den with the glittering lights of the tree.

Sure, you were a few drinks in, but so was he as the two of you hummed and danced along to the Christmas music emanating from the radio. His arms wrapped around you and it was like there was nothing else in the world you could possibly bring yourself to think about other than the smell of Charlie and the sound of his low hums as he swayed you two back and forth.

You knew there would have to be a proper conversation about what you two were going to do now, about what this meant for your relationship and how it would affect the people around you, but for now, you were content with what you had, which was Charlie in your arms, smiling warmly at you.

The song changed to something more upbeat, and he grinned, laughing a little as he pulled away and spun you to the tune. The two of you kept up with singing along, even if you wavered a little as Charlie pulled you along. It was fun and it was carefree and you were very dizzy by the end, where Charlie leaned you into a dip and smiled down at you.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”

He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, and you chase him as he leans up to press another kiss to his lips. After a couple more chaste kisses, he pulls away and glances towards the stairs then back at you with an unspoken question, and you find yourself quickly pulled up the stairs, giggling and shushing each other all the way to your room.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

How about a Regina George x fem reader (I'm not a writer just a reader lol, the best I can do is song lyrics so I'm sorry if this idea has been taken or sucks)

Rivalry Turned Romance:

Your character and Regina are rivals in some way.

Initially, their interactions are filled with snarky remarks and subtle sabotage as they try to outdo each other. However, beneath the rivalry, there's a mutual respect and fascination.

As they spend more time together, they start to appreciate each other's strengths and vulnerabilities. Their competitive banter gradually turns into playful flirting, and they realize there's more to their relationship than just rivalry.

Rivalry Lights the Spark for Romance

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, brief mentions of getting drunk, reader and regina rivalry, enemies to friends and lovers mention, long fic

|| Summary; reader and regina never got along. Like, ever. It would be a cold day in hell if they did. There was always something for the girls to argue over... until there wasn't.

Requests open!

Started; September 17th

Finished; September 17th

~~~

Regina George. The two of you were in a stare down from across the cafeteria. You sat with your group of friends, she sat with hers. Regina and you have had a long standing rivalry that dates back to sixth grade. When Regina stopped being human. Your friend group and hers used to be one big group that hung out together all the time. Then the Janis incident happened and you and your friends sided with Janis.

You, Prudence Ollia, Savie Lane and Nyla Caves were deemed 'weirdos' for doing so. While Regina, Gretchen and Karen grew in popularity. Janis was left on the side lines. You and her haven't hung out at all in the more recent years. Since highschool you've just lost touch with each other.

Which brings us back to present day.

"So. What's our next sabotage plan for Lilith over there?" Prudence asked. Lilith was the code name which your group had made for Regina when you talked about her in public and didn't want others to know.

You didn't take your eyes off Regina. It was like the two of you were in some game of chicken. First one to look away loses," huh?" You asked, not really paying attention.

"Next sabotage plan." Prudence simplified.

"Oh!" Savie grinned as she slammed her hands on the side of the table, looking at the three of you with mischief in her eyes," we replace her shampoo with hairdye. Give her green hair."

"Classic." Nyla nodded with a laugh," but none of us would even be able to step foot in Regina's house."

"Actually, I'm pretty certain her mom still thinks Lilith and I are absolute besties. Maybe I could give it a try, make an excuse like she left something in her room for me to pick up or whatever. Lilith's mom probably wouldn't even think to ask for details." You stated, eyes still on the blonde. You swear she hasn't even blinked once this whole stare down.

"I'll buy the hair dye," Savie did an excited clap. She was usually the most hyped up when it came to the sabotage plans.

That night, you did exactly what you had said you would. Luckily Ms George did think the two of you were still friends and Regina happened to be out at a party. So you were able to pull things off pretty smoothly.

The following day, Regina George showed up to school with bright lime green hair. But instead of laughing, people were in awe. And lime green hair was a trend over the next couple weeks.

Regina remained unaffected, which annoyed you to no end. How does everything you do just boost her popularity? It was infuriating. Though you couldn't help but respect her just a little. Only a little.

She walked by your locker as you were grabbing your trumpet out for music class," What? Too cool for green hair, L/N?" She smirked at you when she noticed you hadn't dyed yours to follow the trend. That technically you started.

"Shouldn't you be off trying to steal Christmas, Grinch?" You replied, trumpet case by your side.

Her eyes widened just slightly in annoyance and she snatched your case from you, flicking it open and taking the mouth piece. She handed your trumpet back," good luck in music, loser." Regina winked at you as she walked away. Mouth piece in her fist.

You sighed deeply. Honestly surprised she even recognized that piece was important. You didn't think Regina knew anything about music. Though the only grievance her act actually caused you was a lecture from the music teacher about not "losing" pieces to your instrument.

So it didn't bother you all that much. Which annoyed Regina, but she had a small respect for it. But it was only small.

Things like this would continue to happen between the two of you throughout the rest of the year. Each of you gaining a little bit more respect for the other.

One day, a few weeks before the Christmas talent show, Regina passed by your locker and gave you her signature smirk.

"Hey, L/N. Signing up for the talent show?" She asked, clearly she wasn't really interested. However, unless you were seeing incorrectly, her eyes scanned your body. It was quick and easy to miss if you didn't happen to be looking in her eyes when it happened- what? Pfft, no you weren't staring into Regina's eyes. You hated her.

"Yeah, actually. You still doing that tradition of yours?" You replied, arms folded across your chest as you leaned against your locker.

Regina scoffed, folding her own arms," obviously. Bet it's better than whatever you're doing."

"Playing the trumpet without a mouth piece. You know, when you stole it it gave me the idea to actually give it a try. Kinda fun," You grinned at her. Yes you did it specifically so you could rub it in her face that you were unbothered.

You saw her eye twitch ," whatever, loser."

Christmas was nearing, the talent show was here. You were on before the plastics and Mr Duvall called your name to the stage.

You walked on and took a seat, trumpet held in front of you. You took a breath and got ready to play. Only no sound came out when you tried.

"What?" You muttered to yourself and turned your trumpet around, looking down into it. Apparently someone had stuffed it with pink slime. Not the runny kind, but the kind that looks more like rubber. You rolled your eyes. You didn't need the pink to tell you who had done this," Just a moment."

You got up and took the slime out as you headed back stage, looking for Regina. When you found her; her and her crew were laughing. Presumably at you. They hadn't noticed you approach, so you took your chance.

You threw the slime directly at Regina, it slapped her in the face and landed in her hair. Getting stuck. She screamed and her eyes snapped to your direction.

"Oh you're so dead!" She immediately walked towards you, you stood your ground even after getting a solid bitch slap from the blonde.

The two of you were now in a full on brawl, you knocked Regina to the ground but she pinned you there. The both of you wrestled each other.

Gretchen and Karen shared a look while Cady encouraged it. Being the fake she is.

It didn't take long for Ms Norbury to find you and Regina and separate the both of you.

"She attacked me!" Regina yelled.

"You punched first!" You yelled back.

Ms Norbury sighed deeply," I don't care who started it, ladies. You are both just as involved as the other." Her eyes landed on the slime in Regina's hair," Regina, go get cleaned up. Y/N Mr Duvall's office. Regina you'll meet her there. You have ten minutes before I come get you to make sure you go."

"Ugh. This is so fucking stupid," Regina muttered.

"You're fucking stupid," You muttered right back as you both walked out. Narrowing your eyes at each other.

Soon enough, the both of you are in Mr Duvall's office. Just waiting for the talent show to be over as Ms Norbury waited with you. Keeping an eye on you both in case another fight started.

When Mr Duvall finally joined you, he looked... more disappointed than anything. Or maybe he was just tired.

"How many times must we do this?" He asked. This was not the first time you and Regina had been in his office together.

You and Regina gave each other a side eye.

"It put slime in my trumpet," You pointed to Regina.

"'It'?!" She looked ready to fight you again.

"Girls! Please." Duvall sighed and leaned forward, arms rested on his desk." Both of you are in the wrong. Both of you are being punished. You'll have detention with each other for the rest of this week and next. And you'll be given tasks from the janitor. Maybe if you work together on it... you'll at least tolerate each other more and I won't get so many headaches."

You did not tolerate each other more.

At least, not at first. The first few clean up tasks were absolutely hell.

That was until the janitor trusted you and Regina with floor cleaning machine. (i wish it had a better name but i could not find anything. they're those zamboni things. i'm just gonna call it a zamboni 😭)

You don't know how you earned his trust to use this but you did. School was out for the day and you and Regina had to stay behind, the janitor left already. Leaving the two of you to work alone with this.

You glanced at Regina and grinned. "Bumper cars?"

Regina raised an eyebrow," you're so stupid."

"Come on! You know you want to~!"

"Absolutely not." She folded your arms and started walking away.

You got an even better idea." Slip and slide?"

That got her to pause and consider it. She looked back at you," if it will get you to shut up."

"Definitely." It wouldn't.

You and Regina worked together to get the floor of a hall cleaned up with the cleaning zambonis. Once it was done, you took a running start from around the corner then sprinted down the hall. Sliding the whole way down and trying to stay on your feet. You did not. You landed on your ass about half way down.

Regina laughed as she watched you and thought 'screw it' as she did the same thing. She made it about the same length as you, then fell on her front with a thud.

The two of you laid on the floor and laughing, looking at each other with smiles on your faces. Maybe Regina George wasn't so bad. What you didn't know is that Regina was starting to think the same about you.

"Hey. Wanna ditch this and go get bobas?" You asked, you doubted she would even agree.

Regina seemed to hesitate for a moment before she got off the floor," yeah, sure. But you're paying."

"Aw, whattt? You're like a billionaire." You stood and followed her out of the school.

"So?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled. The halls didn't get cleaned that night, but it seems Mr Duvall's strategy worked a little better than he thought it would.

The two of you rekindled your friendship, you still annoyed each other to no end but on a less... chaotic scale. It was more controlled and less sabotages.

And later it even became more as you and Regina had a very intense drunk make out session.

[malecftw]

Dirt - Tom Blyth

A/N: Duuuuuuuude, I feel like I'm in an alternate universe. Never would I have thought I'd ever be writing again, years later! Please please please let me know what you guys think since this is my first story back. It'll probably play a part in wether or not I'll write more since I obvs love writing, but a writer isn't a writer without readers.

Enjoy xx

Warnings: fluff.

(Not my gif obvs)

The cool breeze of the opening car door makes you smile. The vehicle moves slightly as someone sits in the driver's seat. After some rustling you hear: "Open up." You do as you're told and open your lips slightly, only to feel the cool metal of a reusable straw. A groan escapes your lips as you taste your favorite cooled beverage. By now, he knew all your favorites by heart, just like he knew your dislike for the standard paper straws they've started using everywhere. You're all for saving the planet, but paper should never be sucked on. You lean your head against the headrest as you turn your head towards the driver's seat, even though your eyes could only see black.

"Does this mean you're gonna be my servant all day?" You hear a chuckle. "Don't get used to it hot stuff. You're only blindfolded until we get there." You puckered your lips, "and where is there exactly?" you try again. For months, he's been keeping you in the dark about what he had planned for your birthday. He hyped it up quite a bit so your curiosity only grew as it led you to this moment, literally in the dark about the whole thing. He just kissed your lips and you knew that was the only answer you were gonna get.

The drive was filled with your favorite music, the occasional chatter and regular hand kisses as he held yours in your lap. Although you couldn't see anything, you weren't bored. It was rare that you got to spend much time together, so even this was a treat. You still found it crazy how he had been able to persuade the producers and director to film around your birthday. Well, persuading isn't exactly the right word. He had a few different gigs lined up, so he could basically tell them: "Give me these days off, or I'm going for the other job."

He was always the assertive one in the relationship. Especially when it came to you. Any free moment he could get, he would make sure to capitalize on it just so he could spend it with you. Ever since you guys met at Julliard, you'd been absolutely smitten with eachother.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the car came to a halt. "Slow down tiger." He said, quickly grabbing your hand moving towards the blindfold. "Tooooooom, please..." you whined, squeezing his hand. "You'll find out soon enough, trust me. Now I'm going to come over to your side to help you get out okay. No peeking."

The dramatic sigh that left your lips made him laugh, loving the advantage he had over you. As you play with a loose thread on your jean overall he opens the door. Grabbing your waist, he lifts you out of the Jeep, squeezing your sides in the process.

"Okay, take off your blindfold on my mark." He exclaims, followed by alot of shuffling, making you aware of multiple people present. "Go for it babe." He says loudly, and you do as he says.

The sight infront of you startles you, not at all what you expected. It feels like you're in some kind of national park. Only stones, sand and dirt in sight. If you exclude the group of people infront of you that is.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Everyone shouts at the same time and you jump back a little in surprise. In front of you are you closest friends, as well as some of Tom's coworkers you'd been lucky enough to get close to. A few Billy The Kid costars were also there, you assumed the others had to keep filming while he had a couple days off.

As you take in the sight, hand over your mouth, still in shock, you notice everyone has a bucket hanging from their wrist. "What the fuck!?!" you shout, happy but confused. Tom walks up to you, takes your hand and walks you closer to the group. He hands you a similar looking bucket, a chisel and a hammer.

"We're going crystal digging." Tom smiles, stretching out his arms proudly as he looks at the scenery. Your heart nearly bursts at the seams as you throw your new equipment to the ground and jump in his arms, clinging onto him like a Koala.

"Tom Blyth, you are the most unrealistically perfect boyfriend ever and I do wonder how I ended up with you." You whisper, looking into his eyes, trying to make him realise how much this means to you.

It's not like you were crystal-obsessed. It's just something you'd been drawn to your entire life. A little quirk one might say. It was a subtle part of your life. One that you had often gotten judged for by previous boyfriends. Tom never spoke negatively about it, it was just a part of who you are and if it made you happy, why would he try to manipulate it out of you like the ones before him. It's not because he himself wasn't that interested in it, that you weren't allowed to be.

"Babe, all I do is listen. It's not rocket science." He smiles as he gives you a little Eskimo kiss. "So humble," you mock swoon as het puts you down. "Oi, don't be jealous if I find the biggest rock okay." He grins while nudging your side. "Not gonna happen. I'm a crystal magnet." You say cockily as you join the group.

After a couple hours, everyone was covered in dust and dirt. Happily you look at your bucket, having found a couple huge, beautiful crystals and a lot of smaller ones. Next to you Tom was also holding his bucket closer to his face to inspect what he found. Your shoulder touches his elbow as you say: "You know what, I might have a couple of them made into some lovely jewelry pieces."

Tom looks at you bewildered. "Like what?" You don't think much of it as you answer. "I don't know. There's some beautiful stones in here for some earrings, necklaces, bracelets... Or maybe I can make some stuff myself you know. Get my creative juices flowing." He sighs softly at your answer. "I love you." At that you raise your eyebrow. Neither you or Tom were shy of expressing your love for eachother, but this was a bit random. "I love you too. I honestly don't think you realise how much this means to me. I never would have guessed this to be the surprise. It's so thoughtful. It truly shows how much you know me through and through." "I'm glad you like it. You're always down to try anything, even if you're not sure about it in the beginning. That's why I feel comfortable trying something new. I'm aware it hasn't been easy now that work's been steady and I've been away from home a lot. And you have no idea how much I appreciate you giving me the freedom to follow my dreams."

He leans down and kisses you passionately. Melting into his touch you stand there for a while looking at the scenery, taking everything in.

*That evening*

"You clean up nicely mr. Blyth." You comment on his attire. He does a little twirl, smirking as he checks you out. "You're not so bad for a little scavenger." You poke his side and sit down in one of the chairs. After you'd said your goodbyes to the rest of the group, Tom had driven you about an hour away from the crystal mine. You knew that wasn't the end of your birthday surprise since he'd told you to also pack some nice evening attire.

Tom had booked an amazing restaurant. The owners went above and beyone to blow your mind, preparing an outdoor table with the best view. After dessert, you both were enjoying some lovely wine and eachother. Catching up after not having seen eachother for a while since you'd only flow in yesterday so you could spend your birthday together.

He absentmindedly played with your fingers as a comfortable silence settled between you two. You felt him rubbing your ring finger and noticed him looking at it. "Looks quite empty doesn't it." He says quite casually. You roll your eyes and jokingly hit his chest. "Don't play that game." You say, smiling widely. You'd talked about marriage before, you both knew you wanted it at some point in your life. Sure some people say it's just a piece of paper, and you couldn't fully disagree, but it also had a deeper meaning to the both of you. The promise of choosing eachother, every day, forever.

He looked into your eyes and shook his head.

"I'm not playing games anymore love."

The way he said it made you shiver. He'd made that joke before, but never with an answer so serious. He leaned back in his chair. "Do you remember, early on in our relationship, that time I forgot my tie for one of the first plays I did at Julliard?" You smile as you think back to that memory. "How could I forget. You were basically a living zombie for 3 weeks leading up to that play."

Tom nodded, back to playing with your fingers.

"I remember I had been so stressed. The character I played was so dull. I struggled so much finding ways to make him more interesting to the audience. And that damn tie. It was so important to me. Silly how something so small could mean so much at the time." "So much that you forgot it at home 3 hours before the play." You humored.

Looking enamoured, he continued.

"And I remember you. You with your make up half done, running towards me in a fucking thunderstorm. And when we met in the middle, you just casually opened your vest, handing over that damn tie."

Laughter exploded from your chest. You were in the middle of getting ready to attend the play when you got the frantic call from Tom. You didn't think twice and started running towards the school, and didn't even realise it was raining until you were running through the streets of New York City, by then it was too late to turn back to dress appropriately for the weather.

The man infront of you smiling, as he relived the same memory.

"That's when I knew."

A questioning look painted your face.

"I knew. Right then and there, that I'd always look for you in the crowd."

Speechless, you squeezed his hand.

He sat up straight in his chair. Taking both of your hands in his.

"I love you. I love the way you still can't use our airfryer, 2 years after we got it. I love your random obsession with knitting and making me wear your handmade sweaters to work. I love home, but only when you're there. I love that you let me be who I truly am and I love that you are fearlessly yourself."

He stood up and kneeled down infront of you, taking out a red, velvet box.

"Please allow me, to fulfill one more dream of mine."

As he opens the box he speaks with shaking voice and tears in his eyes.

"Will you marry me?"

[tuiccim]

Wrecked (Part 4)

Pairing: Alpha Frank Castle x Omega Reader, Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Trigger Warnings: References to infertility, love triangle, smut

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader and hype princess, @whisperlullaby

Wrecked Masterlist

You danced around Billy for the rest of the day. He always seemed to find a way to touch you or at the least, be within reach, and always solicitous. It hadn’t taken you long to realize your folly that morning. He was testing you, making sure you were loyal to his friend. Part of you wondered if Frank had put him up to it. Was he trying to find a reason to break it off with you? Did he regret his commitment to mate you? You hated the thoughts that continuously ran through your head. You jerk your head, trying to make the ugly thoughts go away. Would you ever find any peace from your own self-doubt?

“You okay, gorgeous?” Billy asks as he studies you from across the kitchen counter. 

“Fine,” you say, not making eye contact. 

“What time do you have to be at the bar?” he asks. 

“I’ve got to go get ready now. Are you guys coming by?” You look at Frank for the answer. 

“Nah,” Frank says. 

“Of course,” Billy’s answers simultaneously. 

“Okay, well, either way, I’ll see you guys later,” you retreat to your room to change. You wished you had a moment alone with Frank to ask him what was going on with him, but he seemed content to keep you at arms length. It was as you were driving that another explanation crossed your mind. What if Billy brought back memories of Frank’s mate, Maria? He had known her and Frank’s children. The thought made you sad and you wondered if you had jumped to conclusions about Frank’s remoteness. You resolved to talk to him about it tonight after close.  

Saturday night at any bar is busy and you were glad your other bartender was here. You really needed to find another hand, if only to give you a couple nights off a week. You usually take Mondays off but you'd been called in several times lately. You loved the bar but everyone needs a break sometimes. You hadn't taken a vacation since you bought it. 

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as a group bustles in through the door. Without them even making it across the floor, you get a pitcher going and gather glasses. They were regulars on Saturday nights. The group bought a few pitchers, played pool on one of the three tables, and were decent tippers. The leader of their group, Dane, came by to drop his card for the tab and grabbed the drinks. He was an Alpha and paid little attention to you outside of ordering and paying. Just how you liked them to behave. 

You were surprised when Frank and Billy actually showed. After their awkward exchange earlier, you assumed they wouldn't bother. Billy was all smiles as he approached and you set their drinks at two open spaces at the end of the bar. 

"Thanks," Frank said softly with a gentle look. It warmed your heart and you gave him a genuine smile. He looked in your eyes for what felt like the first time in days, though it had only been hours. 

"How's the night going?" Billy asks. 

"It's been busy but nothing we can't handle," you nod. 

"Can I get another?" A patron calls. 

"I'll check on you guys in a bit," you smile as you get back to work. 

The next hour goes by in a blur as customers come and go. You rarely have a moment to breathe and do little but refill glasses. The music was playing loudly and there was a commotion at one of the tables that calmed down with Jordan's quick work. It was a great night business-wise and everyone was having a good time. You had finally made it back over to the guys when, out of nowhere, the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Your shoulders tensed as you glanced around. 

"What is it?" Billy looked around before looking back at you. 

"I don't know..." your eyes continue to scan. 

"You probably just caught a chill," Frank attempts to reassure you. 

"Um,yeah... probably," you say softly. 

"I don't think so, Frankie," Billy disagrees. "Your face went white, gorgeous. Something set you off."

Frank glances around and shrugs, "Everything's fine. Relax. I'm gonna hit the head."

Taking a deep breath, you pour Billy another drink with a small smile, appreciative of his understanding. You glance up to check on the group at the pool table and see their pitcher getting low. You head that way to ask if they want another or to close out. Halfway there, you stop dead in your tracks when you make eye contact with a late arrival to the group. The Alpha that attacked you gave a sinister smile before lifting his glass. You look towards Jordan but he's dealing with a couple of young looking guys at the door. A hand grips your arm and you gasp, twisting to see Billy. A laugh rings out from your attacker's direction and your gut clenches. 

"It-it's him," you breathe out, frozen in place as your anger builds. 

"Who?" Billy looks and immediately knows. His hackles raise as he locks eyes, a challenge clear in the other Alpha's eyes. 

"He attacked me. Frank stopped him. He can't be here," you set off to face your attacker but Billy catches you.

"Hey, Let me handle it," Billy says. 

"It's my bar. I can handle it,"  you say confidently. 

"But you don't have to. Let me do this for you," Billy argues.

"No, I need to do this. I can stand up on my own," you pull away but, letting go of a little of your pride, you turn back to him, "But you can back me up." As you walk, you catch Jordan's eye and motion for him to join you. You approach the Alpha with them flanking you. "I'm only going to say this once, leave now."

"Brought your posse, huh?  Where's your hero with the crowbar? Couldn't hold on to him? He didn't want the broken Omega?" He says, darkly. 

"He's right behind you," Frank's gruff voice is accompanied by the sound of a pool stick taking out your attacker's knees.

"What the fuck?" Dane yells, seeing his friend being attacked. 

Frank stops him with the pool stick, "You don't want in on this."

"What is going on?" Dane looks at you for an answer.

"Last time he was here, I cut him off. After close, he attacked me by my car. He's not welcome here," you explain plainly. 

"Did he hurt you?" Dane asks.

"Nah, I hurt him," Frank grouses.

"Is that when you were in that 'car wreck', Matt?" Dane looks at his friend. 

"No. Back me up here, man!" Matt yells. 

Dane looks between Frank, Billy, and Jordan and shakes his head, "I'm good. Uh, when you're done here another round would be great."

"Sure, Dane." You look at the guys, "Get him out of my bar. Feel free to remind him why he's not welcome."

"We've got this," Billy stops Jordan from joining them. The dark smiles Frank and Billy exchange are enough to make your insides quell. Matt would be shitting his pants before the night was over. 

You grabbed the pitcher and flounced back to the bar as if nothing had happened, secure in the knowledge that he'd never show his face here again. His audacity was mind boggling. 

You settle back into the swing of things and finish off the night. Just as you were yelling last call, Billy and Frank come in with bruised knuckles. You pour them each a drink with a grateful smile. 

"Thanks for delivering the message," you wink. 

Frank smiles as he raises his glass, "Anytime."

You glance down at Billy's split knuckles, "Need some ice? Or a bandaid?"

"Nah, gorgeous," he licks the wound and takes a drink while staring at you. 

You don't know why but it was hot as fuck. Your mind immediately went to it doing other things and you have to swiftly shift your attention. You pour yourself a hit of whiskey, a rarity for you, but necessary to help you through these strange feelings coursing through you. 

“You okay, babe?” Frank eyes you. 

“Just a little keyed up,” you say, dismissively. 

“Sounds like you need an outlet,” Billy gives you a rakish look. 

Deciding to play his little game, you lean on the bar suggestively, “Any suggestions?”

Billy’s eyes betrayed him in that moment. Want was obvious but a moment of vulnerability flashed. He recovered quickly to send a smirk Frank’s way, “You’ve got a firecracker on your hands, Frankie.”

“She gets in her moods,” Frank cracks.

You raise an eyebrow at the comment but before you can reply, Dane walks up to close out his tab. He leaves a big tip and looks at Frank, “He still alive?”

“He was when we left him,” Billy says with a cagey shrug.

“He’s only in town a couple of times a year but once his dad hears about this, he won’t be back. Sorry for the trouble. Won’t happen again,” Dane nods to you as if sealing a deal. 

“Thanks. See ya next Saturday,” you say to assure his welcome to return. 

“Alright, let’s head out, Bill. Jordan, you’ll make sure she gets to her car?” Frank drains his glass.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Jordan says nervously. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll stay with her,” Billy states. 

“Wha- No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” you retort. 

“I’d feel better if you weren’t alone,” Billy says sternly.

“Jordan will be here,” you argue. 

“She’s good, Bill. Let’s go,” Frank jerks his head toward the door. 

“You go ahead,” Billy says coldly. “I’m staying.”

“You always were a stubborn bastard,” Frank laughs, shaking his head. 

“Always,” Billy says dismissively. 

You clench your jaw in frustration but turn away to finish off the night. It was as if time sped up to leave you alone with Billy. The bar emptied quickly, the staff cleaned in record time, and before you realized it, Billy had told Jordan to head to his apartment. Taking the cash to the back room, you crouch down to lock it in the safe. It was the only way to put some distance between the two of you. His intent to get you alone was obvious to you and you wanted to get into the car quickly to limit it. What you didn’t expect was for him to be right behind you when you stood up from locking the safe. 

Gasping, you growl out, “Damn Marines and their fucking silent steps!”

Billy chuckles as he closes the little distance between you. 

“Don’t,” you put a hand up to stop him. 

“We need to finish our conversation from this morning,” Billy intimates. 

“The one where you tried to seduce your best friend’s Omega?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Were you testing me? Is this some sick game you play? Or did Frank put you up to it so he has a reason to dump me?” You practically spit the accusations. All of your anxiety and fears come to the surface with them. 

A muscle ticked in Billy’s clenched jaw. His dark eyes bore into yours as he leaned in closer. You stand your ground but you’d be lying if you said your insides didn’t quiver. His scent was suddenly more intense and you knew you had struck a nerve. His hand lashed out to grasp you by the throat and pull your face close to his. You wrap your hands around his wrist as your eyes widen. You should be scared, afraid of what this Alpha may do to you but you find yourself aroused by his reaction. Your thighs clench and heat pools in your belly despite you fighting these feelings. He takes a deep breath, pulling your scent in before speaking, “I don’t play games with other men’s Omegas. I don’t mess with Omegas at all, generally. But, I do go after what I want and from the moment I stepped in this damn bar yesterday, all I can think of doing is marking you as mine,” he growls.

“Why?” You ask, staring at him pleadingly, desperate for an answer. Mainly because you felt the same way. Your mind and body were screaming out for him. It was insanity, a delusion. It had to be. A reaction to agreeing to be mated. A seven month itch, fuck, it had to be something because whatever else it was, it was wrong.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it but I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” he whispers. 

“I’m Frank’s,” you reply quietly. 

“Funny,” Billy says, trailing his fingers over the scent gland on your neck and sending a shiver through you, “I don’t see a claiming mark. You’re with Frank, you’re not his. Not yet… He won’t stay. He can’t. Even if he does mate you, he won’t stay.”

Those words broke whatever spell Billy was able to put over you and you felt the anger claw its way into you, “And you will?”

Billy’s lips part but nothing comes out. 

“Exactly,” You push him away. You grab your keys from the desk and flick the lights off as you exit the back room, “Let’s go.” 

You walk away without a backwards glance. Shutting everything down as you go, you make it to your car and slip in without him bothering to say anything more. Frank had told you Billy was known for going through the Omegas but you were kicking yourself for falling for his soulful shit again. Yes, you were attracted to him but he was just passing through town and no matter how much you wanted to give in, it would be stupid to lose Frank for nothing more than a quick fuck. You rode in silence to the cabin. Your anger and frustration were too intense to allow you to speak and Billy was similarly stoic. 

As soon as you were inside, you went to shower, feeling as if all you could smell was Billy on your skin. You ran the water hotter than normal and scrubbed your skin of any smell from him or the bar. When you entered the bedroom, Frank stirred, woken by the light from the bathroom. 

“Everything okay?” Frank asks, squinting. 

“No,” you say as you get on the bed. 

“What’s the matter?” 

You pull the blankets down and straddle his naked body. Kissing him hard, you pull back just long enough to whisper, “I need you.”

His arms go around you immediately and his mouth opens to kiss you more thoroughly. You reach down to pump his cock until it’s hard enough for you to slip it inside. Your walls clench around him. Breaking the kiss, you sit up to work your hips more quickly, allowing him to fill you more. 

“Jesus, babe, what’s gotten into you?” Frank moans as his hands cover your breasts to knead. 

“Fuck, needed this cock in me. Needed it stretching me out like only you can,” you answer, throwing your head back to let out a moan. 

“Quiet, babe. Billy will hear us,” Frank chuckles, sitting up and trying to pull you to him for a kiss. 

You push him back down forcefully and ride him harder, “Then he’ll know just how good you fuck me.” Your anger returns as you ride him. Anger at Billy for his very presence, anger at Frank for making you feel he always had one foot out the door, anger at your family for making you feel less than, anger at society that considered you nothing but a wreck. You rode all those feelings out on Frank’s cock and when that wasn’t enough you dug your nails into his pecs until he grimaced. You drag them down his chest leaving angry red marks, making Frank roar as he grabs you and throws you under him. He thrusts as hard as possible, driving impossibly deep, and forcing a cry from your throat. He doesn’t relent, pounding into you harder than he ever has, enough that you know your thighs will be bruised. You lose yourself in it, allowing your mouth to fall open and release moans and cries with no regard to who hears. When you come, your body bows and you release a full-throated scream. 

You lay like a ragdoll, completely spent and grateful for the release but Frank isn’t finished with you. Pulling out, he grabs your leg and flips you over. He pulls you up onto your knees and slams into you repeatedly from behind, grunting as he uses his hands to pull you back against him. Your skin slaps obscenely and you can do little more than curl your hands into the sheets as he fucks into you. When his hand lands a punishing slap on your ass, you cry out again. 

“Don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you tonight, but don’t worry, babe, I’m gonna fuck it out of you,” Frank growls as he continues his delicious assault on your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, your eyes rolling back in your head as another orgasm slams through you. 

“That’s right. Let it out, fuck,” Frank pulls out of you and you collapse on the bed. Turning you on your back, Frank pulls one of your legs across the other and enters you again. You're twisted in half, breasts and face where he can see them, but your ass is still displayed as he fucks you. He grasps your thigh as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust. “Play with them. I wanna watch you,” Frank brings your hand up to your breast. 

You pinch your nipples, twisting and flicking as he watches. His hips drive into you steadily and his thumb makes circles around your clit. Your orgasm creeps up on you, your attention on your breast but your body suddenly spasms and you let out a high pitched moan. It comes in waves and you clench down on Frank with each one. 

“Frankie, baby, please. I need you to fill me up,” you whine, exhausted.

“You want me to fill you up, you’re gonna have to work for it,” Frank grunts, pulling you up. He positions you on top of him in reverse cowgirl. “Ride me like you did the other night and maybe I’ll give it to you. Move that ass,” he says as he delivers another punishing smack to your ass cheek. 

“Oh,” you squeal as you begin to move. You’re so tired but you put all of your remaining energy into bouncing on his cock. You stick your ass out, giving him the full view. He licks his lips as he watches your dripping cunt swallow his cock. He grabs handfuls, delivers alternating smacks, and smears slick from your cunt to play around your tight, little asshole. 

“Play with your clit. I want to feel you come around my cock one more time,” Frank demands.

“I… I don’t think I can,” you whimper. 

“I ain’t coming until you come, ‘mega. I suggest you get to work,” he flexes his hips up into you to emphasize his words. 

You circle your clit, searching desperately for that toe curling feeling. You reposition your hips to allow his cock to hit your g spot a little better and begin making shorter strokes. You find it and ride it out, begging your body to give you just one more. When you felt yourself teetering on that precipice, you whined until the spasms hit. Your hips moved in jerky motions as the orgasm made your legs shake uncontrollably. 

Frank’s deep voice groans, “Oh, yeah, fuck. That’s it. Fuck.” 

You feel his knot lock in place and you sob as pleasure rolls through you. Frank rolls you to your side while you’re still connected. His big hand caresses your cheek before resting it on the back of your head. 

“That’s what you needed, huh? Just needed my knot filling you up, huh, ‘mega?” He whispers, exhaustion clear in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, glad that you were facing away from him so you could hide your tears. You were filled by a man who wanted you, so why did you feel so empty?

Part 5

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[sluttyminghao]

fleshlights and vibrators | w.jh

♡ pairing: fiance!junhui x female!reader ♡ w.c.: 3.3k ♡ genre: smut, fluff, a splash of comedy (18+ only minors DNI) ♡ this fic contains: use of sex toys (male and female), switch!junhui, switch!reader, multiple orgasms, mention of overstimulation, penetration without protection, jeonghan is always at the scene of the crime, reader goes to a sex store, teasing, pet names (baby, angel, love), dirty talk ♡ synopsis: when you can't work out what junhui wants for his birthday, you take jeonghan's advice. ♡ a/n: happy birthday to junnie ! thank you once again to @lovelyhan for once again hyping me up with this ily

When you celebrated birthdays, you tended to go all out, and your fiance was no exception. After being together for 3 years, it was easy to figure out what he wanted, considering he was an open book. Generally, he would say something offhandedly about an item he’d been wanting, and sure enough, when his birthday rolled around it would be handed to him in pretty packaging with a bow on top.

This year, however, you had yet to decide what to get him.

He hadn't dropped even a hint on what he was after, so you were left clueless as the days clocked over and his birthday drew closer. It had you in a slight panic, and despite messaging all your friends for ideas, no one could help you.

Until you received a message the day before Junhui’s birthday, from one of his bandmates, Jeonghan. It seemed like a saving grace at this point, and you were just hoping he would be able to point you in the right direction.

[2:04 pm] Jeonghan: are you still looking for birthday gift ideas?

[2:04 pm] You: YES im so stuck pls help me

[2:13 pm] Jeonghan: he’s been pretty stressed lately, he probably just needs a good fuck, maybe you could give him head

You stare at your phone screen, slack-jawed at how casually Jeonghan was bringing up this conversation. But then again, you could hardly be surprised considering how close the two were and most definitely shared the most intimate and filthy thoughts and desires.

[2:25 pm] You: what about a sex toy?

[2:27 pm] Jeonghan: oh yeah he mentioned maybe wanting to try a fleshlight with you… something to consider perhaps

Your heart flutters at the words on the screen, wondering what else Junhui had mentioned in conversations with his fellow band members. The thought of using a fleshlight on your fiance had definitely crossed your mind on more than one occasion, but you had never been ballsy enough to purchase one or bring it up to him out of fear he wouldn't like it.

[2:30 pm] You: thanks jeonghan, I owe you one

[2:34 pm] Jeonghan: just make sure he gets laid otherwise I'll never hear the end of it.

You make a mental note to thank him with a drink later, slide your shoes on and head out the door to make what might possibly be the most embarrassing purchase of your entire life, but you know, anything to make Junhui happy.

The sex store isn't far from your apartment, and the 20-minute walk gives you time to wade through all your thoughts and try and sort them out. Most of your thoughts consisted of this specific sex toy, wondering why he wanted it, how long he’s been wanting to try it if he would even tell you he wanted it.

Any thoughts or doubts you had were promptly squashed the moment you entered the dimly lit shop, your eyes widening at the sight of all the sex toys lining the walls and shelves. The sight of the different-sized dildos, whips, paddles, and other various toys has your heartbeat quickening, almost enough to break you out into a sweat. As you wandered the aisles in search of the fleshlights, you find a couple of other toys that pique your interest and might come in handy later. You store those thoughts for a later day.

When you finally stumble across the fleshlights near the back of the store and next to the bondage rope, you find yourself pushing your thighs together to prevent your arousal from soaking your panties (with little success). Just the sight of the devices, the flesh-coloured objects with an opening resembling a vagina, has your mind reeling. 

You think about how his pretty whines would sound when you sink the fleshlight down on his girthy cock, how his thighs would tremble as you overstimulate him and milk his cock dry as the rubber device fucks him deliciously. The thoughts running through your mind have shivers cascading down your spine, and without a second thought you grab one of the devices sitting on the shelves without even looking at it.

“Just this one for today?” The cashier’s bright and bubbly voice smacks you out of your trance and you nod with a smile. They place the fleshlight in a discreet black bag and hand it over with a wink, which only makes your breath hitch and you hightail it out of the store, just wanting to get home and compartmentalize every thought you’d had in the space of an hour.

The walk home is cool and the wind is fresh against your skin and seems to drag out much longer than your walk to the store. You hold the bag tight against your body, mainly out of fear of the flimsy bag ripping and the toy falling onto the ground into plain sight of everyone enjoying their Friday afternoon.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you finally reach the steps of your apartment and unlock the door. After toeing off your shoes and placing the bag on the bed, you open your phone and your relaxed nature is yet again, replaced with one of panic when you read the messages on your phone.

[4:07 pm] Junnie: hey babe im coming home early!

[4:10 pm] Junnie: I’ll be home in 15! Love you!

You quickly check the time, now 4:24, and realize he will be home any second. The lock on the front door clicks open and you can hear Junhui’s signature humming coming down the hallway. You panic and quickly go to greet him, forgetting all about the plastic bag on the bed momentarily.

Junhui looks tired but still manages to pull a loopy grin onto his face at the sight of you bounding down the hallway. He opens his arms for you to enter and you don’t hesitate to envelope yourself into his body warmth, his musky scent filling your nostrils and making a sense of peace and calm wash over you. He really was your happy place.

“How was your day love?” He kisses the top of your head and places his keys into the bowl near the front door, kicking off his shoes and heading toward the bedroom. You follow him like a lost puppy and only stop in your tracks when you hear a noise of confusion leave Junhui’s lips.

You’d left the bag on the bed. The bag with the fleshlight in it.

“Hey babe, what’s this?”

Upon peeking into the bedroom, you can see him holding the bag with his index and middle fingers. You step into the bedroom and feel your cheeks begin to heat up. You don’t think he’s opened the bag yet, due to the quizzical look covering his features, but your heart rate still quickens anyway.

“Oh, that! I’ll take it, it’s just something I bought when I went shopping today,” you make an attempt to grab the bag, but junhui knew how to use his size to his advantage. He holds the bag high above your head, out of reach despite trying your best to try and grab the bag. He smirks when you try to jump repeatedly, his height becoming a great advantage.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing!”

“Well, why won't you let me see what's in it?”

“Because it’s for your birthday!”

His mouth opens into an ‘o’ shape and he finally relents, bringing the bag back down to your height. Just as the bag is within your grasp again, you feel the flimsy plastic begin to rip, and before you can stop it, the toy is falling out of the bottom of the bag, and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

You both look at the fleshlight in silence, the box it came in now dinted from where it fell on the floor. After a moment, you can hear Junhui swallow and lean down to pick up the box, before handing it back to you with his cheeks and the tip of his ears bright pink.

“I-”

“Is that what I think it is?” Junhui cuts you off and takes a step closer to you. You stare at the box in your hands, feeling your hands get sweatier by the second. Your heartbeat is thumping in your ears, he feels a million miles away yet he’s standing two feet away. 

“What do you think it is?”

“A fleshlight.”

Eye contact is avoided. You can’t even bear to look him in the eye because you aren't sure how he’s feeling. Your eyes are downcast to the floor, your sock-clad feet seemingly much more interesting than your fiance's reaction to a sex toy. You can see his own feet step into your vision and you gulp, hoping he won’t chew you out for buying him a sexual aid.

“I love it.”

As soon as the words fall from his lips, your head snaps up and you look him in the eye. You can see his gentle smile and when his hand comes up to caress your cheek, any ounce of common sense left in your body is thrown out the window.

“Good, because I plan to use it on you for hours.”

Your statement takes him aback, and even more so when you push him backwards onto the bed, and you walk over and get on the bed to straddle his hips. The box is tossed to the side temporarily, while you lean over and let your lips collide with Junhui’s plush ones. He lets out a surprised gasp which gives you the perfect opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth.

For a while, you lay and make out with him, letting your cool hands run under his shirt and feel the warm, toned skin underneath. He’s letting out the cutest whimpers and moans into your mouth, and it only makes the arousal flood your panties tenfold.

You can tell he’s getting impatient, with the way he begins groping at your ass and his fingers are teasingly tracing your panty line. You pull away from his lips, a thin trail of saliva still connecting the two of you until it snaps when you move to grab the box.

“Remove your clothes, Junnie, I want to see all of you.”

“O-okay.”

He’s quick to remove his shirt, exposing his beautifully sculpted abs and torso. You lick your lips at the sight, which is quickly moved downwards when he begins removing his slacks and exposing his lower half. As he removes his boxers, you can see just how worked up he’s gotten. His cock is already hard and leaking precum, the protruding vein on the left side throbbing and his balls twitching and ready to be emptied.

“Get on the bed.”

He complies quickly with your dominant aura surrounding him, his head landing on his pillow and his hands quickly grabbing at the blanket underneath his naked body. He feels as if his head is swimming when you quickly undress yourself to the same level of nakedness as him, your body igniting a fire within his belly that can only be quenched by you sitting on his cock.

But that would have to wait.

With a smirk on your lips, you pull the fleshlight out of the box and quickly wipe it down with an antibacterial wipe, before dousing it in a heap of lube. You glance over to look at your fiance and are met with doe eyes, hands fisting the sheets and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in anticipation.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy Junnie~” your soft voice has him whining and thrashing his head around on his pillow, which is the perfect opportunity to place the tip of his cock into the fleshlight and watch as his eyes widen and his hips buck up at the feelings.

“Oh f-fuck!” His voice cracks as you slide the fleshlight down his shaft slowly, letting the rubber envelope his throbbing cock. You can see tears welling up in his eyes as you test the waters and begin pumping the fleshlight up and down at a tantalizingly slow pace, his hands in the sheets gripping as hard as they possibly can.

You can see his body relax a little bit as you start a steady pace, his body contracting and relaxing every couple of seconds with each pump of the fleshlight. What he doesn't realize is that the toy you’d bought also came with a vibrating inner sleeve, and with just the push of a button, you could have him crying out your name.

“How’re you feeling baby? Feeling good?” You pump the fleshlight a little faster along his shaft and watch as he furiously nods and clings to the sheets like it’s his lifeline. You smirk and press a button on the side of the fleshlight, the gentle thrum sparking to life and sending junhui into a frenzy.

You can see how much this is affecting him, even on the lowest setting. He’s thrusting his hips up maniacally, head thrashing against his pillow and tears are streaming down his cheeks steadily. His moans have gradually gotten louder and by the time he’s close to cumming, his moans are laced with hiccups and sobs due to the sheer pleasure coursing through his body.

He can’t even warn you that he’s cumming because the wind is knocked out of his body but with the fleshlight feeling like a vice around his cock paired with the low vibrations, his cum spurts out quickly. It shoots deep into the fleshlight, and he cums so much that once you slow down your pumping, it’s like he’s creaming into an actual pussy and it makes your insides turn to jelly. His cum fills the inside of the fleshlight and coats his shaft, and even goes down as far as his upper thighs.

“How do you feel baby, are you okay?” Your voice is what brings him back to the Earth plane, and he stares at you with a goofy smile on his features. You place the fleshlight on the bedside table and lay next to him, stroking his messy bangs off his sweaty forehead. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed and his body curling into yours.

“‘M okay…but still want more,” he whines, adjusting his body so that he’s between your legs and is hovering above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks and leans down to kiss your clavicle, and works his way down until he’s right above where you want him the most.

“You want more? But I already made you cum baby, what more do you want?” Your voice comes out breathy as he lets his tongue glide over your breasts, paying close attention to your nipples. He hums against your skin, the vibrations making you feel warm and he knows it. Fucker.

“I want to be buried deep inside you and cum as hard as I did with the fleshlight you used on me.”

He doesn’t say another word as he strokes himself to full hardness again, soft whimpers escaping him at the slight overstimulation. You can’t help but moan at the sight of your fiance jacking off right above you, and a new wave of arousal floods your cunt which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

“Oh wait, I need to grab something,” he mentions, your curiosity piquing when he moves to his side of the bed and pulls open his drawer, grabbing at some long white device before shutting the drawer and crawling back to his previous position between your thighs.

“What did you grab?”

He grins playfully and holds the item up for you to inspect, and it doesn't even surprise you that he has a vibrator just hanging out in his drawer. You scoff but feel your cheeks burn, and wonder when he had actually bought it. 

Junhui lets the head of his cock rest against your clit teasingly, the occasional twitch driving you insane. He plays with the settings of the vibrator for a few seconds, before finding a setting he thinks will work well, before lining himself up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation and let out a strangled sigh when he lets the fat head of his cock push inside of you.

You loved the way he stretched you out so deliciously, how he could hardly contain his own orgasm as he filled you to the hilt, your cunt feeling very similar to how the fleshlight felt and he has to take a few breaths to not cum on the spot. With one hand, he grabs the vibrator and lets it lay on your stomach, but doesn't turn it on quite yet. With his other hand, he takes one of your hands and interlaces your fingers, the softness of that one gesture having you melt into his touch.

He starts off at a slow pace, rocking his hips gently into yours. You can feel every inch of him against your walls, the way he knows exactly how to angle his hips to hit that spongy sensitive spot inside of you repeatedly has you on edge within minutes, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re so fucking t-tight, god,” Junhui chokes out, his breath stuttering when you absentmindedly clench around his cock and cause him to halt his movements. He quickly continues, speeding his pace up and grabbing the vibrator and turning it on. Your eyes widen as he teases you with the toy, keeping the toy on your nipples at first, running the vibrations down your body.

When he gets close to your cunt, you feel yourself beginning to clench even more around Junhui’s cock. He grunts and turns the vibrations up on the vibrator, before letting it rest against your clit. He speeds his thrusts up at the exact moment the vibrator lands on your cunt, and the intense feeling is one like no other and has you seeing stars within seconds.

You aren't even sure when you became incoherent, your mind was too busy building you up to what would most definitely be the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced to date. Junhui can feel you tightening up like you normally do right before you cum, and takes the vibrator away at the last moment, throwing it to the side of the bed.

“Cum for me, fucking cum for me, angel.”

And that was all it took, your vision covered with exploding stars as the rubber band inside you snapped violently, your orgasm being so intense that Junhui’s cock is pushed out of you. He doesn’t mind though, he just takes his cum covered shaft in his hand and pumps quickly until he’s painting your chest and stomach white, long streaks of his cum dripping down your skin.

He flops beside you, both your bodies trembling from pleasure. He takes one of your hands in his again and kisses your fingers gently, in an attempt to bring you back to earth. When you start coming back, he hums and starts tracing soft patterns on your back, the familiarity lulling you into a sense of warmth and security.

“We should shower, my love,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, to which you promptly reply with a strained whine. Junhui can only chuckle and effortlessly pull your tired body off the bed and carry you princess-style to the bathroom.

“Let’s shower and then we can nap, okay?” he cups your face with his hands and kisses your nose softly before getting the shower turned on and warmed up. He takes a quick glance at the time, noting it’s only 8:30 pm, but neither of you had eaten dinner yet.

“Did you like the gift?”

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts about dinner, and he turns and gives you a huge boxy grin. 

“I couldn’t have asked for anything better. What should we get for dinner?”

taglist: @moodays, @cixrosie, @nabiee-x, @rinshabitat, @weakforsvt, @lenireads, @baldi-2, @enhacolor, @8junhao, @nikkixpenguin, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @valentxi, @hanniecheesecake, @vern0nsworld, @tigermoonbiss, @jeanjacketjesus, @humankimbap, @woozarts, @eaudenana

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[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Rain/Payu) 1

Because I'm petty, I had the crowd pick which blacklisted shows I would watch for the month of Pride. I had planned to space them out more, but due to wacky weather over here (tornadoes, thunderstorms, softball-sized hail, and flash flooding), I had plenty of time to binge watch the first show, Love in the Air, which perfectly aligns with my real life theme of stormy weather, so I'm posting my random thoughts in five parts, two for each couple and the special episode.

I'm seated, I'm watching, and I'm being petty.

It starts at "2:00 AM" - Oh no. Nothing could happens at 2 in the morning, and the time just keeps going. This event isn't even going to begin until 3 AM?! Take me home, NOW! I don't care how fine these men are. I'm stopping for mini churros at Jack in the Box on the way home and going to bed. I'M OUT!

I've seen plenty of pictures of Boss in the past two years, but I still lost my breath a bit when he took off his mask because he was looking delicious in the rain.

RAIN WANTS A GIRL?!

Out of everything I saw about this show, NOBODY mentioned that Rain was trying to get a girl. I'm shook. That's a huge part of the plot I never saw mentioned. There were rumors of the actor (Noeul) being with Milk (of MilkLove), and I saw more of THAT in connection to this show than about him liking a girl within it. Where are y'alls priorities?! *looks at Tonnam and breathes deeply*

Payu's room is IN the garage? But what about the fumes? What about the noise? What about a good work/life balance?!

😬😬😬

I don't care if this boy is snuggling in his sleep, Payu is on my shit list! Instead of being like "oh, I misunderstood the signals," he pushed harder then got upset. Even if Rain secretly does want him, I need a verbalization. This is the end of the first episode, and I'm mad as hell at a bisexual on the first day of Pride. Damn.

Start of episode two and I know Rain's voiceovers are there to make me not be upset at Payu, but . . . I'm pissed at this man! He did all of that work, said it was free, but now there is "another" charge, then he shows up at this boy's school when he could've just talked to him at the shop, and feels him up in the bathroom stall. I am BIG mad!

I will admit, this is hot. Still very mad at my fellow bisexual for him saying he wasn't trying to force himself on Rain (even though he was about to mark a map on that boy's neck), but they got chemistry.

My fellow Slut for Christ, only God can judge you, but know that I am too.

All racetracks look the same so Pit Babe and Cutie Pie could have been filmed here for all I know, but I have this at 1.5 speed, unmuted, so I hear this is a legit hype rap song. WEARETHEGOOD's "Threat" with these colors?! Energy? Matched.

HE IS SPANKING HIM?!

I don't kink shame but both people should be willing participants in this endeavor. Then just to drop him on the floor like that?! That does not inspire trust! This is not Blue Boy behavior, sir! But this lecture after is. That is what I need from you. Remind him that this isn't some petty school shit but actual gangstas he is messing with. Remind him that he can't be reckless. THAT'S HOW BLUE BOYS GET KISSED!

Now it's a competition? Payu wants to fuck Rain so badly he looks stupid, yet Rain is over here saying he is going to make Payu want to fuck him, what? harder? What is this all about?!

What do you mean you didn't want to show Rain your bad side? Has all this been your good side up until this point?! Cause, dead ass, this side ain't looking that great either with you being upset you weren't sleeping with him on the first night and stalking him. So you're going to get worse?

Y'all can't sucker me in with red and blue colors. I Told Sunset About You tried that, and I'm still being petty about it. But whose house are we at now?! This is a different room than before. Payu got multiple places?! In this economy?

Prapai strolling in all happy because he had a good night . . . Sir, I'll get to your ass soon because I know how you got that happiness, and you are on the same shit list as your fellow bisexual bestie.

I am Sky and our judgement cannot be measured.

TWINS?!

All this blue between these two yet they are straight up lyin' every two seconds. The fuckery.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!

I would've let him turn it in, but I appreciate that he looks so good while looking so sad with that warm glow.

Payu gets one positive point for leaving his arms open for Rain to come to him, but now that warm glow feels sus like maybe I should be paying more attention to Rain's yellow/orange backpack.

And now for a negative point because even though I keep seeing black x white, Payu stays morally grey by playing with this boy's emotions and hiding from him in his own shop! These after scenes are not doing Payu any favors.

Payu, do I like you? Do I hate you? Do I wanna fuck you? Do I wanna kick you in the balls? All of the above?

Guess I'll find out in the next three episodes.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

I MISSED IT.

oh my god. if i had known sooner, i would have done something- drawn a tribute, maybe- for this show. this show is a part of me. this show has been with me through so much and it is impossible to overstate how much it means to me. it was there during the best and worts times of my life. i cannot ever ever imagine my life without this show.

so, as a tribute to it, because i MISSED THE DAMN ANNIVERSARY OHMYGOD, i'll tell my story with it. i feel like it should be shared because i know there are others out there that appreciate the show just as much as i do. this is pretty long so uhhh word wall warning teehee

i remember when i first discovered it,

about halfway into 2020. season one had finished airing by the time i found it. i had heard things about this "lumity" characyer and decided to try it out because i was an "ally" at the time (oh, how things can change).

it wasn't on a streaming service yet, nor did my family use cable TV, so i watched the entirety of the first season through clips pirated on youtube.

i fell in love with it. watched every theory video i could get my grubby little hands on, watched reaction videos, watched those iconic lumity animatics and listened to the songs on loop for months. it became a part of me.

and, guess what? i made the lego eda meme my pfp on my school laptop (remember that one guys?? oh man that was a WHILE ago) and someone in my school, a new guy, asked me about it. said he liked my pfp and asked if he could sit with me and my friends during lunch. and now, even after both of us moving thousands of miles away, we're still in touch.

that was FOUR YEARS AGO. i know that seems kind of a short amount of time, but i've never held a friend that long before, having moved around a lot in my life. long story short the owl house got me like half the friends i have today.

anyway, back to the show.

i can never forget the hype when season 2 was announced.

i remember scrounging youtube like a starving dog for any content, teasers, theories, etc etc etc i could physically find. i was a pretty sheltered kid back then so i couldn't see any hype for it on social media other than youtubers gushing about theories. but i felt like i was there with everyone, squealing and kicking our feet together over our favorite show getting a new season.

most vividly, i remember being fucking pissed when i saw that the third season we could've had was cut short. i remember all the angry videos, and the petitions, everyone, everyone was all collectively screaming for this to change. we wanted the show to get what it deserved, but alas, it's Disney. so of course we just had to make do.

when season two began airing i forgot all about my anger. i forgot everything because, i had to watch it as soon as possible. i'll remind you, dear random internet user, that my family did not have cable TV at the time, so i couldn't watch it the second it aired there. i watched youtubers' reactions to the episodes.

it was the best feeling ever waking up on a saturday and seeing all of the reaction streams to the episode from all my favorite youtubers- i had to watch it all through the tiny top left corner of my phone screen and i was ecstatic. i loved being able to watch the show with everyone else, even if i sometimes missed reaction premiers or streams and got to them a day late- it was in the top ten most fun months of my life.

oh, and, do you remember? do we all remember Through The Looking Glass Ruins? the episode where gus develops his character and powers, and also the episode in which... you know... amity and luz indirectly admit their feelings for one another? TO each other? you just had to be there for the EXPLOSIONS that happened online that day. the absolute SCREAMS of joy from everyone when amity cheek-kissed luz at the end. it was amazing to witness so many people everywhere, in my social circle and online, collectively cheering and shouting for joy over a queer couple. a sapphic couple, portrayed positively, and casually, and OPENLY.

you have no idea how amazing it felt, after years of questioning myself, to see that on screen. to see that and to see everyone happy about it.

in the time between season one and season two's release, i opened up about questioning my sexuality to my parents, and they were... reluctantly supportive. i took a ton of time to figure it out myself, like maybe two years of constantly cycling though labels and wondering and wondering and thinking really really hard about it.

i remember seeing luz and amity very clearly being a potential couple in the show, and then they actually BECOME A CANON COUPLE a few episodes later, and feeling utter jealousy because i wanted what they had. the world exploded because, for a lot of people, this was a huge finally moment. finally, we have something good for ourselves. i remember watching and re-watching the lumity scenes in the first part of season two over and over and over, and thinking, "i don't want this with a boy. i want it like that." and it was liberating. i cannot thank this show enough for that feeling of fully accepting myself as a 100% organic home-grown lesbian.

that's just my experience with the show, but i'm sure there are tons of other similar stories, because this show was my first exposure to positive queer rep (raine whispers and amity blight are me favorite characters, i think you can guess why) and that changed everything for me.

anyway, on with the show.

the second part of season two released, and the fandom went wild. i cried. i sobbed. the finale was amazing, the lumity moments were amazing (they're portrayed as one of the healthiest couples i've ever seen in modern media ohmygod), the story was amazing. every episode, banger after banger. every minute, smile after tear after mind-blowing moment. the owl house team took disney's smelly, rotten lemons, and they made fucking lemonade. the best lemonade i've ever had.

and also, can i talk about how amazing it is to see so much representation of usually horribly portrayed groups? luz is canonically ADHD. many characters could also be seen as neurodivergent (gus my beloved) eda's curse is a stand-in for chronic illness. hunter's entire story is one about abuse, and belos's is a story of how a person can become a monster, about how sometimes monsters cannot and should not be redeemed. this show is a fucking masterclass in rep.

anyway, "season three" (fuck yoy disney) was amazing, and every episode made me bawl.

i remember seeing that they released the episodes in youtube, and i remember the absolute beauty it was to see millions upon millions of views for it. i remember watching the first one while making myself an omelette. that omelette ended up having my tears in it. i'll have you know that i almost never cry at media, so the owl house really fucking achieved something with all of the tears i shed.

i remember crying when luz "died," crying when she came back and screamed in bel-ass' face , "EAT THIS, SUCKAAA"- and i remember crying at the collective "byeeee" from the whole cast. i remember feeling a sense of bittersweetness that it was over. but the whole cast got the endings they deserved, and that was enough for me.

the owl house is a part of me now.

the owl house's run was a comfort when the news was screaming and crying, it was a comfort when i needed escape, and it was a huge part of the person i am today. i cannot ever thank this show enough.

i'll probably draw something to commemorate the anniversary if i ever find the time, but for now, this post is a way for me to send my appreciation towards the fandom, the creators in the fandom, and the creators of the show that made it possible. this show is over now and has been for years, but it will never leave me. happy five years, everyone! here's to many more! 🥂

[charliehoennam]

dinner date

summary: David tries to compensate for his demanding job and swoons his girl

Pairing: David Loki x F!reader

Warnings: Fluff, language

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

David knows how you've been looking forward to this day the whole month. Ever since Crumble Crumbs opened up on main avenue, you've been counting down the days to try out the new café and bakery.

It's been a beehive since opening day, so you told him you wanted to wait a while for the hype to die down enough for you guys to enjoy a sweet little date without all the pushing and yelling.

Conyers was a small town. Nothing really new happens here, which happens to be one of David's favorite thing about it.

It's small enough for him to know almost everyone and to be predictable enough for his job.

Every grand opening in Conyers is the highlight event of the month and Crumble Crumbs has been no different; it's been the talk of the small town since then.

Everyone's been there, and word of their wide assortment of large, fresh cookies has been spreading like wildfire which only made you even more excited to finally try it.

The day is cold - sunny enough to enjoy it outside despite the winter season - as you and David walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

"They literally have every cookie you can imagine."

"I seriously doubt that. I mean, that's a lot of cookies. And who even is that obsessed about cookies?" David smirks, being his usual skeptical self.

"Who isn't?" You scoff playfully at him. "Cookies are seriously underrated desserts. They're crunchy and soft at the same time, not to mention salty and sweet too. They are the literally the ying and yang of desserts!"

"I'm pretty sure it's yin and yang, babe." He can't help but smile at your excitement.

"And there's a cookie for every season! Summertime? You got lemon cookies, lime cookies, coconut cookies. Fall? Snickerdoodle, peanut butter, s'mores and don't even get me started on chocolate chip."

"Alright, alright. Let's get a cookie in ya 'fore your lose your shit, cookie monster," he laughs opening the door for you.

You walk inside with a playful smack to his arm and giggle excitedly. The smell of the freshly baked goods strikes you immediately and wraps you in the warmest hug.

The café looks like as cozy as a scene from small town rom-com.

Little yellow lights strung across the ceiling glow warmly like candlelight against the pale, cold hue of the snowy streets outside that filters through the frosty windows. Bright green leaves planted on dark wooden boxes brighten the dullish red color of exposed bricks on the wall. Christmas stockings and decor hang against the dark teal bar beside the display cases of desserts.

"They got coffee in this joint?"

"Actually, they do. I'm gonna get a simple latte. How about you?"

"I'll join you and get one too."

"No black this time?" You smirk as your gloved hands lock together between you.

"You're rubbing off on me," he smiles and kisses your head. "Let's choose the cookies first and then I'll order the coffees so you can save us a table."

You and David work together to select different flavors to share between you both. You'd have one of every flavor if you could, but you know you wouldn't finish them all even with David's help.

He lets you choose first and he notices there's a a few you leave out. Not because you don't want to try them, but you feel like you should limit yourself. So, he makes a point in ordering the ones you'd left out and a couple of simple flavors he happens to love like the peanut butter and the classic chocolate chip.

You find a table to sit at near the window and take the cookies over to it as David soon follows with your lattes in hands.

Setting your gloves aside, you take turns choosing which cookies to try, chatting endlessly in between every bite and sip.

He just wants you to be happy today. He loves seeing you like this. He knows he doesn't spend enough time going on these little dates, letting routine to dominate your relationship.

He's always had trouble dating because of his job. There is no greater passion for him than helping people in need.

It's a subconscious deed that heals his inner child daily. He hadn't realized it until you pointed it out after he had told you about his rough upbringing one night.

Most of the women that came into his life felt it hard to compete with. His career always found a way of coming between his relationships until David eventually decided to give up on pursuing lasting relationships...until you came along and turned his world upside down.

At first, he didn't get his hopes up since he figured you'd eventually leave too. Only you didn't leave, nor did you hold it against him or make him feel guilty for his job.

Instead, you became his haven. His little peaceful cocoon to shelter him of all worries.

He admired that about you, the strength you had to understand and accept that your relationship wouldn't be as normal as others. Most of all, he was grateful that you still chose to stay with him knowing that.

He promised himself that he would always try his absolute best to make every rare second you had together as memorable as possible.

That's why he feels his heart sink in his chest when you both hear his cell phone ring in his pocket.

You smile at him and nod after seeing the regret on his face as he closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose.

You assure him with a gentle smile and a hand on his arm that it's alright, that the call could be important or urgent. You know he wishes he didn't have to take it, but even days off aren't entirely free for him.

"I'm sorry, babe. I really am. I'll just be a minute. It- fuck," he sighs shaking his head as he reads the caller ID, recognizing it's his captain.

With reaffirming strokes of your thumb on his forearm, you already know from David's curt replies that he has to go in today.

The minute he hangs up, his heart is filled with dread.

"I'll get these to go while you bring the car around, yeah?"

He only nods and looks at you doey, apologetic eyes.

"Hey, it's alright... We can always come back. I'll make sure not to leave you any so we can come back soon," you smirk trying to poke some fun at him to ease his guilt.

He chuckles and nods as he gets his gloves back on.

"I'm taking this one with me" he says lifting the peanut butter cookie to his mouth as he stands with his latte in hand.

---

You barely see David the couple following weeks.

Despite being able to find incidental pockets of fleeting time in your schedules to just be together, David can't stop thinking about that date and all the others that he's had to cut short.

He's thankful that you're understanding of the fact that he takes his job very seriously, but he still wants to remind you of how much he loves and appreciates everything you do for him.

Dealing with an absent partner isn't easy at all and things between you aren't always perfect. His job really does take a toll on his mental health. He hadn't noticed how bad it was until the Dover-Birch case.

Convincing him to see a therapist to talk to wasn't very easy, but he realized it was necessary after Bob.

Although the girls were safe and Keller was found - fighting for his life in the cold damp hole Holly Jones forced him into - and treated at the hospital before being taken in custody, Bob and Alex were the ones that really haunted him afterwards.

The day Bob took his life repeated itself in his dreams.

Even in his sleep, he couldn't run from the stress of his job or from the failure that he felt he had been to Bob. And now, he felt like he was failing you too.

On those nights, he would wake up covered in cold sweat with hands that trembled uncontrollably. Looking over his shoulder as he’d sit up on the bed, he’d make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He’d just feel worse if he had, but sometimes when he did, you helped calm him down and he was grateful for the patience you had with him.

Having you was the only constant he had in his life. You gave him a reason to want to come home. You filled his bleak days with love and relief. You are what makes his house a home and the thought of losing you is absolutely terrifying.

Most of David’s romantic history consisted of one-night stands and short-lived relationships. Although he did really have feelings for the women, he’d had relationships with, it always ended the same way: with them leaving because they demanded more attention that his schedule simply couldn’t provide. And, even though he had tried to move things around to have more free time, it wasn’t enough for them.

David shut himself off from the world in that romantic sense after that. He felt he would only ever fail anyone he got with, so what was the point?

Then, you came along and proved him wrong. He knew he would never find anyone like you, so showing you how much you meant was important to him.

----

"Babe?" you call out.

You’re walking into the shared house you live in, sensing the delicious smell of your favorite dish wafting from the kitchen as you slide off your boots and hang your winter coat up alongside his.

"Ah, fuck" he winces lightly burning his hand on the handle of a frying pan., grabbing it in a hurry to set it on the back burner before the food in it could overcook. "In here, babe!"

Running cold water over the burn on his palm, he smiles proudly at you with a dish towel hung over his shoulder when you reach the kitchen, marveling at the romantic set dining table that was waiting for you along with lit tall candles, a bottle of your favorite wine and clean empty plates with thoughtfully arranged silverware resting upon a place mat.

"What's the special occasion?" you chuckle surprised.

He feels so proud watching you admire the effort he had put into making a simple night the most special.

"I finished the paperwork early. Worked through lunch, so I wanted to make you a special dinner, ya know?"

You grin, thanking him as he walks over drying his hands on the dish towel to grab the bottle to open it up and pour the maroon drink into a couple of glasses.

"I just wanted to do something for us... I know it's nothing special. Just dinner but…"

Your eyebrows narrow as you look at him curiously. He doesn't think it's enough to make up for his absence. He wishes he could do more because he knows you deserve more.

“But nothing. This is wonderful, Davie. Thank you so much” you complete and reassure him with a kiss. “You just made my day.”

Just knowing that he's gone out of his way to do something romantic reminds you of exactly why you stay. Under his stern facade, there's a heart of gold that he's learned to hide.

He doesn't reveal it to just anyone. He doesn't drop his guard and expose that vulnerable side with just anyone. He does that with you because he trusts you and he loves you so much.

Through these small acts of affection, you’re reminded that he’s pulling back yet another layer to let you in.

After quickly washing your hands, you take the glass offered to you. While you’re enjoying your wine, he moves around the breakfast bar to plate up the food.

Over dinner, you go on to share the highlights of your day.

Work isn't the most exciting part of your day, but every now and then, a couple things happen here and there and there’s always some gossip that you just have to share with David.

He listens to you with all his earnest attention because he loves listening to you. He could listen to you talk for days. He loves watching how excited you get to talk about your day, no matter how futile the little details seem to you because they’re details that were important enough for you to remember.

He’ll poke fun and let his sarcasm bleed through just a tad to make you laugh.

He doesn't stay silent though. He's a very honest person and he isn't afraid to share what he thinks in a carefully edited manner to avoid hurting feelings: a talent he's acquired over the years on the job.

He just adores watching how eager you get to share these things with him. His days are usually spent solving crimes that are sometimes incredibly daunting and hard to forget, so listening to you talk about your day reminds him why he decided to become a cop in the first place; to keep the town safe so genuine, kind-hearted people like you could enjoy your habitual everyday life in peace and safety.

When you ask him about his day, he's careful to leave the disturbing case details he had to type about the latest case he’d solved. Instead, he goes on to share a couple of stories shared by some of the beat cops from the job and personal lives.

They’re mostly stories about the weird situations brought on mostly by the drunks around town. One being about a crazy drunk in the holding cell stripping down and singing Chaka Khan’s ‘I’m Every Woman’. Another being about a mysterious and suspicious package that was delivered to a bank manager’s house that turned out to be a box full of dildos.

Hearing his laugh is almost like hearing angels sing. So rare, but still so refreshing to hear.  You can feel it chase away all the troubles of your day as the corners of his eyes wrinkle with each smile.

Neither of you seem to notice the time passing by. It must be the wine that he keeps filling your glasses with every time he notices they're running low.

Dessert sobers you both up quite a bit after dinner.

"I didn't make it myself, but we can pretend that I actually know something about baking" he laughs setting out the small cake of your favorite flavor from your favorite bakery.

You thank him with a grin and a kiss that he refuses to break.

You already know you want to show him how grateful you are and you know exactly how to show him what.

His kisses are warm, wet and flavored by the red wine and the sweetness of the cake as they meld against your own. He kisses you so passionately, the room seems to spin around your as his lips intoxicate you all over again.

You pull back, cradling his prickly cheeks in your hands to admire your boyfriend.

“I love you, Davie.”

“I love you too.”

[changingplumbob]

Villareal: Chapter 6, Part 3

Afternoon tea then Devin and Luna head out on a date.

For ease of reading if the toddlers are trying to say real words I'll put the English in brackets. Luna (mummy) and Devin (mama) use some German and Italian. Amore (Italian) Love Che cavolo (Italian) What the hell/F Schatz (German) Treasure Zia/Zio (Italian) Aunt/Uncle

It’s not healthy for Joey to spend a whole day at his desk so mid afternoon he gets up and does a brief workout. He doesn’t like fitness one bit, unfortunately for him the watcher does. And though Joey wouldn’t admit it he does like the results. He would never want to be built but a little muscle definition never killed anyone, and makes picking up women easier.

When Devin gets back from her run she goes to find Luna who is waiting for toddlers.

Luna: Good run?

Devin: It was. Are you still okay to go out for dinner

Luna: Absolutely! I trust Joey enough to believe he wont let the twins get hurt. Hyped on sugar maybe but not hurt

Devin: *laughs* Did you invite your brothers for family brunch

Luna: Hugo is a yes, Max is all “wait and see”

Alfred: Mama back! Back for potty time

Rilian: I want help!

Luna: Rilian? What do we say?

Rilian: I want help please

The women shepherd the twins into the bathroom. Both boys are able to attempt to go potty alone but things will be easier for Devin and Luna if they will actively seek to use the potties instead of their diapers. The twins are less spooked by the process now but Devin and Luna continue to give encouragement and reassurance to them. After both of them are finished Devin and Luna carry them to the kitchen for some afternoon tea.

Rilian: *grumpy* Why carry mama, I walk

Devin: Mama and Mummy have a dinner date

Luna: And carrying is quicker

Rilian pulls a face and the women chuckle. Each twin gets a peanut butter and jelly sandwich along with some orange juice.

Devin: Eat what you can Rilian, no hiding food

Luna: Zio Joey needs you to have all your energy

Alfred: Why

Devin: He’ll be looking after you while we’re out

Devin and Luna go to the hall to practice one of Devin’s upcoming scenes that has slightly stronger language than they want their sons using just now. The twins eat and chat.

Rilian: *blows kiss*

Alfred: *giggles* Yay!

Devin: *from other room* Che cavolo!

Alfred: *spooked* She find?

Rilian: *also spooked* Me think

Devin and Luna walk back in and the twins do their best to look innocent. Devin looks at them and sighs. After kissing each of their heads she walks back out and Luna sits down.

Luna: Who can guess what Mama just found

Alfred: *sadly* Smash

Luna: Yes. A smashed dollhouse

Devin surveys the damage. It’s hard to believe a toddler could have reached high enough to smash it that much but none of the grown ups in the house are responsible.

Luna: Who did it

Rilian: We?

Luna: Both of you? Are you sure?

Alfred: *sadly* Me Mummy

Luna: thank you for telling the truth Alfred

Alfred: I… in trouble?

Luna: Mama and I will talk about it but it’s always good to tell the truth, remember that Rilian

The twins look downcast but as Luna gets them out of their high chairs they waddle towards each other for a big hug. Sighing Luna cleans us their dishes.

Devin: 10 minute call, we’ll be off

Joey: Have fun, I’ll go find the twins

Devin and Luna make it to the Del Sol Eatery at 5pm sharp. Better take a quick selfie for posterity. They have always kept time for the two of them in their schedules and Joey living with them has allowed them a lot more of it recently. They don’t regret becoming mothers but they still enjoy being a couple and doing couple things. Couple things such as going out to eat on a Saturday night.

Devin: Hello, do you have a reservation for-

Bonnie: *in monotone* Welcome to Del Sol Eatery, the best little gem in the valley

Devin: Thank you. If we could-

Bonnie: *monotone continues* We offer our customers a range of dining experiences from experimental food to classic ice cream with a Del Sol flair. We have seating options at both bar height and regular height so you are sure to be satisfied

Devin: Lovely. Our reservation is for two-

Bonnie: *monotone continues* In the event of emergency please vacate the restaurant through the front exit in an orderly fashion. Please do not call the fire brigade if you see the chefs brandishing fire, it is part of their process

Devin: I know all about having a process

Bonnie: Hmm

Devin: We’re Mrs and Mrs Villareal, table for two

Bonnie: *in monotone* Our smaller tables have been overbooked this evening. If you wish to file a complaint please see management

She then turns and gestures towards a table the pair assume she wants them to go to. Deciding not to chance further the conversation with the host they walk up the stairs past the fountains to a table overlooking the chef stations.

Waiter: Here are your menus

Devin: Grazie. Can we have a placemat please

Luna: And crayons!

The waiter doesn’t take long to get them and Luna sets about filling hers in while Devin reads the menu to her.

Waiter: Hello again, have you made your choice ladies?

Devin: Simsmapolitan for me please, Luna wants…

Luna: *busy colouring* Whichever looks the prettiest

Waiter: Okay. And for meals?

Devin: Artisan fish trio sounds appetising, one of those please

Luna: And I’ll have the leprechaun one

Waiter: Leprechaun one?

Luna: *humming* The clover salad thing please

The waiter takes their menus back and a bemused Devin grins at Luna.

Devin: You having fun reveling in your childish trait amore mio

Luna: *smiling* Absolutely schatz. I love our boys but I do enjoy colouring without anyone trying to snatch the crayons

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