#i'm glad the semester is over though

[quitedisastrous]

crazy about how fucked up shit can feel at 5am and then you have a single minute human interaction the next day and go "huh. maybe shit won't be that fucked up after all"

[billowyy]

.

[pearlessance]

Cupid's Chokehold — part two!

PEARL NECKLACE

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summary: Uncle Tommy gives you everything you want for your twenty first birthday.

pairing: step uncle!Tommy Miller x f!Reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, stepcest, age gap (reader is 21, Tommy in his mid thirties), size difference, praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, begging, dom/sub undertones, tommy yearns bad in this one, a bit of angst mixed in, alcohol overconsumption, reader is made uncomfortable by someone at a bar, references to being drugged (but doesn't actually happen), allusions to addiction, reader gets a facial

note: if you haven't heard yet, i'm turning this into a little mini series!! you can let me know here if you'd like to be added to the taglist. thank you to everyone for the support on this one, I'm so glad you all love uncle tommy as much as i do. let me know what you think of this chapter, i love love love talking to you guys and i promise there's more to come!

wc: 10.8k

[series masterlist] [main masterlist] [AO3]

Tommy Miller is a high functioning addict.

Self aware enough to admit it, hedonistic enough to only manage it. Has been that way for as long as he can remember.

He likes the head buzz of nicotine and the dizziness of liquor and the adrenaline rush of a real bad decision. His favorite high, though, is you. His favorite sound, his favorite taste, his favorite sight. 

His favorite girl.

After that fateful night in his apartment, the two of you get good at the balancing act. The push and pull. You ride the line of too much and not enough religiously. Have gotten it down to a goddamn science.

But the problem is that an addict never knows when to quit.

He does well for a while. Truly. Learns that it’s a whole lot easier to manage his longing with witnesses around, and goes out of his way to avoid being in an empty house with you. He interlocks his fingers together and squeezes when the urge rises in him to touch you. To cradle your pretty face, to run his thumb over your mouth when you make some filthy joke and smile up at him. He bites the inside of his cheek when you’re sitting beside one another and turn to whisper something in sync, bringing you face to face, so overwhelmed with a craving for the taste of your tongue that his heart hammers against his sternum.

For what it’s worth, Tommy tries. Loses sleep over it, even. Stares up at his ceiling for hours, warring with what he wants and what he knows is right. 

The right thing would be to wean himself off of you. Cut back a little at a time. Day by day, until eventually the thought of you becomes less persistent. Until he stops smelling the faintest trace of your shampoo in his sheets, until he stops transferring that half-smoked cigarette with cherry lip gloss on the filter from pack to pack.

But then, sometimes, he catches this look in your eye when you’re listening to him speak. He could be talking about something shitty that happened at work or telling you about a song he heard on the radio that he thinks you’d like, and you just stare at him like he hung the moon in the sky.

He’s important to you, and you make him feel it. And it’s this, this that he can’t give up. The way you trust him so completely, the way you love him without a trace of doubt. 

You say it once, in passing. Everyone’s sitting in lawn chairs in the backyard, enjoying the nice weather before the rainstorm moving in from the west hits. You’re sitting next to Sarah, but your feet are resting in Tommy’s lap.

Sarah’s talking animatedly, telling everyone about her college English professor and how they’ve been playing matchmaker all semester. On three separate occasions, they’ve paired groups together, and couples have emerged from them. Sarah thinks it’s intentional, but your mom and Joel aren’t so sure.

Tommy stays quiet for most of the conversation. But then he says, “Definitely a little weird. But, uh…anyway, I wanted to let everyone know I’m a changed man. Dropping the whole blue collar act and going back to school to study English.”

Everyone laughs, and you kick the side of his thigh lightly with a shake of your head. Through your giggles you say, “I fucking love you,” and it fills him with so much warmth he’s overflowing with it.

He rides that high for days. Gives you shit for it, even. 

When he steals your half finished slice of pizza right out of your hands and you call him a dickhead with a smile on your face he says, “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

You don’t deny it, and even that makes him feel special. Tommy takes every crumb of affection you throw at him and eats it up with a fork and knife like it’s the most delectable meal he’s ever had. Consumes your sweet words and your closeness so thoroughly, it’s almost comical. Like he’s a dog with a bone, desperate for it, because he is.

He stays balanced, though. Never lets it go too far. Can feel right when his desire begins to cloud his judgment and knows when to call it. 

But things change one night at the dining room table.

You and Joel sit beside each other. He‘s in front of that shitty laptop he bought decades ago, trying to write an email that sounds both professional and assertive without using the words asshole or fucking idiot.

He’s grumbling and typing with his two pointer fingers and a single thumb on the keyboard, shaking his head as you explain, “You have to capitalize her name, Joel. You’re not sending an email to your friend, she’s a CEO.”

“Yeah, well, capital letters are meant for people. Not for corporate lizards trying to fuck with my company.”

You catch Tommy’s gaze from across the table, making you both snort and fall into rambunctious laughter, earning you a glare.

“It’s not funny,” Joel says sharply. “Stupid I even have to do this. I don’t know why people don’t just leave well enough alone.”

“Everyone wants a piece of the pie,” you explain. “You’re making good money doing good things, and she wants to be a part of it. You guys keep taking on more projects this year, and inquiries like this are just the beginning.” 

“It’s a good thing, ain’t it?” Tommy shrugs. “Means you’re doing somethin’ right.”

“Exactly,” you agree. You lean across the table and swipe the glass bottle from his hands to take a sip. 

Tommy knows you don’t like beer and isn’t surprised when you cringe at the hoppy flavor, wrinkling your nose at him. He thinks maybe you drink it anyway not for the alcohol, but to put your lips to the same place his were seconds ago. He tries not to let the warmth that idea elicits in his chest spread too far. 

“Well, I don’t need some uppity lady who works in an office telling me how to do my damn job,” Joel adds.

“So say that,” you tell him. He starts typing on the keyboard again, so you lean in close, peering over his shoulder. “Oh my God. Not word for word. You have to paraphrase.”

Joel throws his hands up in the air and groans in frustration. “How do I say fuck off in a nice way?”

You and Tommy both laugh again, which only serves to piss Joel off even further. It’s not funny, not really; it’s just the dramatics of it all. And, truthfully, Tommy finds everything funny when he's with you.

“You write it,” Joel says, pushing the laptop towards you. 

“That’s not gonna solve anything,” you say, shaking your head. 

“What if I pay you?”

“Then you’ll be in the same situation next time. You’re gonna have to learn how to be a business owner, Joel. Not just a contractor.”

“Okay, so make it permanent, then,” Joel says, shrugging. “Like a…a receptionist. Come work for me and quit that coffee place. They don’t even offer health insurance.” He says it with such disdain, and Tommy knows exactly why.

They’d discussed it on the way home from work one afternoon. Too god damn smart for a place like that, Joel had said, and Tommy could do nothing but agree.

“I can’t quit my job to write your emails for you,” you argue.

“Not just that,” he says. “Can be in charge of payroll and schedules and the licensing bullshit. All the things I’m bad at. Weekends off, whatever hours you wanna work. I’ll pay you double what you’re makin’ now, and you get health insurance.”

Hesitation shows on your face. Tommy knows his brother means what he says, and he thinks you know it, too. But it’s a lot to consider. A big change.

“You’re good at talkin’ to people,” Joel continues, closing the laptop. “An’ it would mean a lot to me.”

That’s what does you in, Tommy knows. The nail in the coffin. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop and your eyes soften. Selfless girl, he thinks. Always taking care of the people you love. “What if I don’t like it?”

“You will,” Tommy answers. Because he knows Joel will take care of you, too. Make sure you have everything you might need. But more importantly, Tommy knows you. And even though he can sense the way it threatens his balance on that already thin line between safe and depraved, he knows you’ll enjoy it.

And he’s proven correct on that very first day.

Joel sets you up in the air-conditioned trailer they haul from job site to job site. Mostly, they use it to cool off during lunch, everyone piling into the small space for half an hour before going back out into the Texas heat.

The two of you spend most of the day going over all the contacts Joel’s acquired over the years, and how to schedule a consultation, and where to order materials. He gives you all of his passwords and clears off the cluttered desk that never gets used. 

Everyone on the team is awfully eager to meet you, and Tommy’s no fucking idiot. He knows exactly what goes through their heads as they shake your hand and introduce themselves and stare a little too hard at the shadow of red lace beneath your thin white top.

They conveniently wait until Joel’s out of earshot before the comments start pouring out of their foul mouths.

Pretty little thing, ain’t she?

Joel’s got that livin’ under his roof? Christ. Poor old man.

You see the way those jeans fit her?

Is it too early to start callin’ Joel ‘pops’?

Tommy wonders briefly why they feel so comfortable saying shit like this in front of him, knowing who he is to you, but then realizes he’s said far worse in the past about girls half as pretty. They feel comfortable because in any other situation, he would be joining right in.

Noah’s the worst of it. Takes things a little too far when he says, “Stepdaughter videos ain’t number one on the hub for nothin’.” 

Tommy clenches his teeth. Keeps his head down. Tries and fails to fight his smug ass smirk when you come grab his truck keys a little after four and return to the trailer wearing his Carhartt hoodie, the one he’d left in the back seat a couple days ago.

Later that night, Tommy follows you up to your room. Door wide open, with Sarah just across the hall and Joel and your mom downstairs. Not that he has any intentions other than checking in after your first day. It’s just…precautionary—an added layer of security to prevent a backslide.

He flops back in your unmade bed, hands folded behind his head, and watches a little too closely as you bend over to unlace your sneakers. “Well?”

You unclasp your necklace and drop it into a ceramic bowl on your dresser. “I loved it,” you admit. “It was a little stressful, but…I don’t know. I liked feeling like I could make a difference. Like I’m not just going in there to do my job and go home, I felt like I was being productive. It was nice.”

Tommy’s pleased to hear it. Loves the way your voice sounds in his ears. Happy, satisfied. He knows right then and there that he needs to set a firm boundary with Noah because you’re never going back to that coffee place, and Noah’s not going anywhere near you. “Said you’d like it, didn’t I?”

With a roll of your eyes, you sit beside him and pull your legs close to your chest, resting your chin on top of your knees. “Joel’s kind of a hard ass.”

It makes him laugh because it’s true. Can’t count on both his hands just how many times his brother has nitpicked the way things are done. He can only imagine the pressure you'd felt in that trailer, likely being told how to talk to this person or that one. “Only the beginning, darlin’,” Tommy says. 

The sunlight leaks in through your bedroom window, sheer lace curtains casting rays of gold over your skin. You’re beautiful, Tommy thinks. Painfully so. Sometimes he’ll catch you at a certain angle, just like this one, and it makes his heart rate stutter.

In another world, Tommy wouldn’t let you out of sight fucking ever. Would accompany you whether you were going to a nightclub or if you were just going to the corner store. Because he knows from experience that all it would take for a man to fall to his knees before you is a single look from those pretty eyes. In another world, one where he wasn’t your Uncle Tommy, one where he could just be yours, he’d make damn sure you’d never need anything from another man. 

Never need a door opened for you, never need to pay for a meal, never need to confide in anyone else. He’d take care of you. Do it all. Satisfy you in every way of the word because it’s what you deserve. He wants to take care of you, wants to be a provider. 

Tommy supposes it’s what he’s always wanted, despite his actions reflecting the opposite. He wonders if maybe he’s just been waiting for you this whole time.

You ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

And he doesn’t lie. “You.”

With a scoff, you playfully pinch his side. A sliver of his abdomen is exposed where his t-shirt has ridden up, and feeling you there is a shock to his nervous system. 

And when your touch lingers, his body tingles, and his brain becomes foggy. Tommy Miller has never wanted anyone the way he wants you. Is reduced to the simplest, most carnally driven man just at the feel of your delicate fingertips on his skin.

Your attention is centered on your hand as you slowly move it across his soft belly, eyes hooded and filled with desire. 

Tommy knows that look now. Knows the filthy thoughts invading your brain, knows exactly what you’re reminiscing about. He knows, too, that the balance is skewed. The longer he lies here with you, the closer he comes to caving. “Your turn,” he says. “Spill your guts.”

When you speak, your voice is quiet. A barely-there whisper. “It would be so easy, you know.” 

He does. Has rolled the idea over in his head a million fucking times. “S’the problem,” Tommy explains. “Can’t stop myself twice.” 

“Then don’t,” you say simply, continuing to run your fingers over his skin. He sees his favorite troublesome smirk begin to form on your sweet mouth and has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself from finding too much joy in it. “Could do it right here. Bet they’d never know.”

The edge of your pinky finger dips just below the waistband of his jeans. Barely there, but Tommy notices everything you do, and this is no exception, hyper aware of your every movement. He lets out a slow, shaking breath and swallows hard. He can’t bring himself to move or push you away like he knows he should. All he manages are two, hesitant words. “Ain’t right.”

Your response is quick. Honest and true. “I don’t care.”

It only makes his will to abstain that much harder. Knowing he isn’t alone in his longing, knowing you’re suffering in such a similar way…it hurts him just to think of it. But it’s different for you. Easier. Because you’re just at the beginning of your life, while he’s nearly halfway through his.

You have time to bounce back from this. To choose someone your age who’s a lot less twisted. Someone you don’t have to hide from the people closest to you, who you can kiss out in the open without shame.

And Tommy’s…well, Tommy knows there will never be anyone else for him. Has sat with that fact for quite some time. Accepted it by now, and considers himself lucky just to have had that one, stolen night.

Slowly, you move further down the mattress. The same one he once slept on that now belongs solely to you. You slot yourself between his strong thighs and his cock swells as you look up at him through your lashes.

There’s an experiment here, Tommy knows. The two of you are just alike. So similar that sometimes it frightens him. He can see the challenge in your eyes, testing the waters, seeing how far you can go before he pulls you back. 

You lean forward, bracing yourself with your hands on his hips. And when you press your lips to the bulge in his jeans, Tommy bites back a moan. 

This is too far, he knows. Way too fucking far.

His heart hammers in his chest. The door is still wide open, and everyone is home. All it would take is one person to walk down the hallway, and it would all be over. 

But it would be easy. Quick, too—Tommy’s never had much control when it comes to you.

With a quick flick of your thumb, you pop open the silver button. Saliva gathers between your parted lips, mouth watering for a taste of him. 

Tommy Miller is weak. Corrupted. Sick and twisted and perverted and— “Beautiful, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking…Christ. You got any idea how fuckin’ pretty you are?”

He gently strokes your hair, and when you smile up at him, he grins right back. His cock is already hard but then you pull his zipper down with your teeth and Tommy thinks he might die without relief.

Sarah calls your name from across the hall.

You scramble away from each other, sitting at opposite ends of the bed seconds before she rounds the corner. 

“Do you remember Summer? That girl from my biology class?” Sarah pays Tommy no mind as she sits beside you.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to be in your room, after all. He’s the first to lend a helping hand when you get the urge to move your furniture around and has carried up your laundry from the basement countless times.

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “The one you…”

Sarah flushes a deep crimson. Her eyes flicker between your face and Tommy’s, and he’s smart enough to read the room.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he says, standing from the bed, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.

You grab his hand as he walks past. Just briefly, but it turns his insides molten. One more lingering touch before he leaves. A way of saying, I don’t want you to go, but I know you have to.

Once out in the hallway, Tommy zips up his jeans and takes a few long, deep breaths before he goes downstairs to say goodbye to your mom and Joel. The two of them talk briefly, and Joel asks how you felt after your first day.

He says, “An’ I know you know that girl like the back of your hand, so don’t lie. She like it or not?”

Tommy isn’t quite sure why the words leave him feeling dizzy, but they do. He likes that he knows you so well and likes even more that the closeness you share is so visible. If he can’t outwardly call you his, if he can’t outwardly be yours, then he’ll take whatever this is. “She likes it.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief. “Good, cause she’ll make my life a hell of a lot easier.”

The next morning, Tommy stops by at seven to pick you and Joel up before heading to the job site. You carry a steaming travel mug in each hand, and before you climb into the back seat, you poke your head through the open driver's side window. “Just milk and sugar,” you say. “Right?”

He doesn’t know why you ask when you know the answer. “You didn’t have to do that, darlin’,” he says. But he happily takes the coffee anyway and takes a careful sip. It’s the perfect ratio. Tommy’s not surprised. 

There’s a playful lilt to your voice as you say, “I usually take mine with cream, but we were all out. Thought maybe you could supply me with some.”

He laughs hard and shakes his head. “Un-fuckin’-believable,” he says through his mirth. He glances over the top of your head to see Joel locking the front door behind him.

You uncap the lid. “Well?”

His face burns, but Tommy thinks he’s never had such a perfect start to his day. “Get in the truck before you start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

“But that’s my favorite thing to do,” you whine, pushing your bottom lip out into a dramatic pout. You listen, though. Replace the lid and climb into the back seat behind him.

Tommy scoffs and says with a grin, “Don’t I know it.”

It doesn’t take long for you to get awfully good at your job. That first week alone, you manage to slice their payment for materials in half just by haggling with the lumber mill Joel’s bought wood from since the nineties. You accompany him to a handful of consultations, learning what to look for in a client and how to pick and choose which jobs are worth taking.

You convince Joel to buy a mini fridge for the trailer that you keep fully stocked with bottles of water. And when you bring in those electrolyte drink mixes, it’s all anyone talks about for days.

Noah says, “The peach one is my favorite. Wanna taste hers next.”

Everyone finds humor in it but Tommy.

The words come out sharper than intended. “Quit sayin’ shit like that, man.”

Noah laughs. Like it’s funny. “You���re telling me you don’t want a piece of that ass?”

“What I’m telling you is to shut your goddamn mouth,” Tommy answers. He stops digging through the sand they’ve been moving for the last hour, left hand squeezed tightly around the red handle of his shovel.

“It was a joke, Tommy. Lighten up.”

“Don’t care what it was,” he says, staring Noah in the eye. “I hear some shit like that again and I’ll fuck you up. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

Noah sizes him up, and for a split second Tommy thinks he just might be brave enough to step. But Noah just sneers and returns to the task at hand, an awkward silence lingering between the group of them.

But Tommy doesn’t care. Sits in that silence happily knowing he won’t have to listen to anyone speak about you like that anymore.

Joel cares, though. And on the way home, he says, “Mike told me about you giving Noah a hard time today. You two gonna have a problem?”

“Wait, what happened with Noah?” You slide to the center of the leather seat in the back of the cab.

“Nothing,” Tommy lies. “Ain’t gonna have a problem.”

Joel narrows his eyes in warning. “Good. 'Cause that’s the last thing we need right now. Behind enough as it is.”

He thinks that’s the end of it.

But then you say softly, “He asked me out the other day.”

“He what?” Tommy and Joel say it in perfect unison. Equally floored and equally irate.

Joel turns almost completely around in the passenger seat.

You raise your hands in surrender and look at Tommy through the rearview mirror. “Said he wanted to take me to dinner, and I told him I’d rather starve.”

“Listen to me,” Joel says with that stern, no bullshit dad voice he sometimes still uses on Sarah. “I don’t want you anywhere near those boys. Ain’t a single one worth a damn. Liars and cheaters and fucking criminals. All of ‘em.”

A crease forms between your brows. “So why the fuck did you hire them?”

“Cause they’re good at what they do,” Joel explains. “But that don’t make them good. Deserve better than that. You hear me, kid?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Keep it professional with everyone,” you say. “Except for Uncle Tommy.”

He chokes. Tries to cover it up with a cough, but it doesn’t work in the slightest. His hands pale around the steering wheel.

“Exactly,” Joel says.

Later that night, Tommy is smoking on the back porch when you step outside to join him. It’s the first moment he’s had alone with you all day. “You tryin’ to get me killed or somethin’?”

“Or something.” You lean back against the siding and shrug. “Kinda sounded like Joel’s blessing to me.”

“You’re fuckin’ trouble, girl.” Tommy chuckles and passes you his lit cigarette when you reach for it. “Joel wasted all that breath warnin’ you about those boys when he should be warnin’ them about you.”

“Yeah, probably. But you love it.” 

Tommy can do nothing but agree because it’s the truest thing he’s ever heard. “Your birthday’s comin’ up soon,” he says, watching as you take the nicotine deep into your lungs. “Twenty-one. Anything you want?”

That too familiar smirk forms on your face, and Tommy knows what you’re going to say before you even open your mouth. Can see all those filthy thoughts behind your eyes, can almost hear whatever dirty joke you’ve got locked and loaded on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t even fuckin’ start with me,” he warns, a playfulness to his voice. But there’s no weight to it. Your inability to take anything seriously is one of his favorite things about you. 

Your lips part in a mockery of surprise. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Didn’t have to,” he says, plucking the cigarette from between your fingers. “Give me something realistic.”

“Okay…” You tap your index finger against your chin, contemplating. “What about…a pearl necklace,” you say with the sweetest, most innocent smile.

Tommy laughs. Can’t help himself. “Alright, you know what? I take it back. You only get gifts if you’re good.”

He thinks the sound of your giggling might be the only thing that’s ever truly brought him peace. Finds comfort in your joy, in knowing you’re happy. But when your laughter dies down, there’s a sad sort of look in your eye. A melancholic longing. 

Then you quietly say, “I just want you.” And Tommy’s ears ring.

This is what hurts him the most. The heavy truth of it. 

He’d known that taking your closeness to new heights would change him in irreparable ways. Known that nothing would ever compare, and he was ready and willing to live the rest of his life with that dull ache in his chest. Welcomed the haunting of emptiness with open arms because it was you and it was him and that one fucking night was yours.

But Tommy wasn’t the only one who’d been changed by it. Wasn’t the only one to suffer in the aftermath. 

He wants to comfort you. Wants to take your hands in his and kiss each of your knuckles until his lips turn blue. He doesn’t move, though. Not even an inch. Because he’s never felt nearer to a relapse than he does when you look at him like that. Like you see him. Like he’s all you see.

“I’m right here,” he says. “Always will be.”

Tommy means it. He thinks he would follow you anywhere just to feel the faintest warmth of your affection.

It seems to satisfy you. For now, at least. You give him the tiniest smile, a half effort, but it soothes the sting for him, too. Just a little. 

Your birthday falls on a Friday. Tommy gets up early and stops at a bakery before heading to Joel’s, and is pleased when he uses the key under the mat to find that the house is quiet. Still.

He creeps up the stairs and slips soundlessly into your room. The day is just beginning, and the light of dawn spills through your cracked window. Tommy sits on the edge of your bed and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

When he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, you stir and stretch out your limbs. Your voice is tired and filled with sleep as you ask, “Uncle Tommy?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers. He cradles your face in his hands and strokes your cheek with his thumb as clarity slowly finds you.

You smile up at him with starry eyes, and Tommy’s stomach flips. You’re so good, so perfect that sometimes he wonders how the fuck you’re even real.

“C’mon,” he says. “Sit up for me. Got you somethin’.”

Tommy holds your hands when you reach for him and pulls you forward. You push yourself up the rest of the way and fold your legs over one another beneath the blankets.

It’s only at that precise moment that Tommy realizes you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and the sight of it steals the air right from him. He likes it—loves it. Loves that a piece of him lives here with you. In your closet, in your room, in your sheets.

He’s not quite sure how you ended up with it, though. Thinks he might’ve left it on a lawn chair after spending an afternoon in Joel’s pool, or missed it in the dryer when the ones at his apartment were out of order.

But then you say, reading his every thought, “I stole it.”

Tommy laughs. “Think you’re supposed to ask before you take things that aren’t yours.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You lean forward, lips an inch away from his ear. “And I know I’m not the only one with sticky fingers, Uncle Tommy.”

His face burns. He thinks of your cherry lip gloss on his bathroom sink and your tank top on the right side of his bed and your lace panties in his nightstand. Tommy thinks he should know better than to hide things from you anymore. You’re too close, too similar. “Caught me,” Tommy mutters.

And then he digs his lighter out of the front pocket of his jeans and lights the ten cent candle he’d found at the back of Joel’s junk drawer. He sticks it into the center of the cupcake he’d picked out just for you—lemon flavored, with vanilla frosting and lime colored sprinkles. 

He holds it between you and says, “Make a wish, birthday girl.”

The flame flickers as your gaze darts between Tommy’s eyes and his mouth. You smile widely, and he can’t resist mirroring your joy. Feels it as thoroughly as if it were his own. Tommy’s never cared much for his birthday, but he feels overwhelmed with gratitude for yours. Thankful.

You close your eyes, make your silent wish, and then blow out the candle. He unwraps the wax paper for you, crumbs sticking to his fingers, and laughs when you take a bite and let out a blissful moan. “Holy shit,” you say.

Tommy feels pride bloom in his chest. Thinks pleasing you might be his favorite thing on the planet. “S’good?”

“It’s fucking amazing,” you answer. And then you turn the cupcake towards him. “I’m not kidding. Try it.”

He does. Leans forward and takes a careful bite right from your hands. You’re not wrong, either. The lemon is refreshing, and the vanilla buttercream is the perfect sweetness. Tommy nods as you take another bite. “Christ,” he says. “Worth every damn penny.”

You touch your thumb to the corner of your mouth. “You’ve got frosting on your face,” you say with a teasing grin.

Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I get it?”

“More to the left,” you instruct. But when he tries again, Tommy knows it’s still there when you hold in your laughter. And then you say, “Can I…?”

Tommy doesn’t understand right away why you even ask. You’re always laying your head on his shoulder or draping your legs over his or running your hands through his hair. This is no different, nothing out of the ordinary. 

But when he nods, you lean forward and lick the frosting off his bottom lip. 

It freezes him in time. Seconds feel like minutes as they tick by. He can feel the wetness of your tongue on his mouth, and you linger. Close enough that he can taste the sugar on your breath.

His morals hang in the balance. Sobriety threatened. Tommy Miller wants you so badly that he starts to wonder if you’re some fucked up form of punishment. Karmic justice for all those hearts he’s broken in his youth, just to be denied the one woman he’s ever truly wanted.

When you speak, it’s breathless. Nearly inaudible. “Kiss me.”

It is your birthday, after all. 

He fights the intensity that batters against his every impulse and instead presses his mouth to yours gently. Unhurried. So much different than the first kiss you’d shared. Your lips move against his in sync, one soul split into two bodies, whole again for the first time in months. 

Tommy thinks it’s just instinct when his tongue meets yours. You taste just as he remembers. A little warm and a little honeyed and a little like opium.

When you pull away, he feels the loss like a knife.

But then you cover your mouth with your hand and laugh, elation spilling through your fingers, and it’s like a balm to his heart.

Around another mouthful of confectionery, you insist, “Here. Have some more.”

Tommy sits there with you, waiting for the sun to rise, and the two of you share your birthday cupcake before the rest of the world wakes. You close your eyes and drop your shoulders as if it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten, giggling between each bite.

It’s such a soft, quiet moment. Only the two of you. For just a little while, you have nowhere to be, no one to perform for. It’s just you, and it’s just him, and when you take the last bite, Tommy licks the frosting from your fingertips.

Joel’s alarm echoes down the hallway, and Tommy taps the tip of your nose, delighting in the pretty way it scrunches in response. “I’ll see you outside,” he says. “Happy birthday, darlin’.”

On the way to work, Joel asks about your plans for the weekend, and you tell him about how your friends are taking you to that new bar that just opened up downtown. He warns you to be careful, tells you it’s been packed full of people every time he’s driven by it, and says to call if you need anything.

You promise you will. 

For dinner, your mom makes all your favorite foods, and Sarah gifts you a handmade pony bead bracelet. She wears a matching one on her wrist with the colors inverted, and they both say 4EVER in little black letters.

When Tommy returns to his empty apartment that night, it’s with a deep sadness. He tries to drown it out. Showers off the sweat of the day and watches something mind-numbing on television. But the main character in the sitcom rerun makes a dirty joke, and he can almost hear you laughing at it beside him. 

Everything reminds him of you.

He thinks about calling one of the women he’s hooked up with on and off throughout the years, but the problem is that Tommy knows how that ends. Knows he’ll ask them to leave halfway through, and he’ll lie there, unsatisfied and painfully in love with a girl he can never have.

His longing chokes him until he’s devoid of breath, of life. Just a shell of a man without you. 

This is the wretched low he pays for those highs, Tommy knows. And he pays it without complaint because the highs are heavenly. Fucking spiritual.

He goes to sleep every night without regret. This emptiness is oppressive, but his love for you is transcendent.

His phone rings a little after one in the morning.

Your voice is slurred when you speak. “Uncle Tommy?”

Something’s wrong. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. Can hear it in your voice. “Where are you?”

There’s faint music in the background. “That new bar on Sixth Street. Can you…I’m sorry. Can you come get me?”

He’s out of bed and pulling on his jeans before you finish asking. “I’m on my way, baby. What happened?”

You say, “I’m not…I’m not sure,” and Tommy’s heart sinks.

Because whatever it is is bad. Can feel it in his fucking bones. “Are you alone? Who’s with you, sweetheart? Where are your friends?”

“No, I…I’m just really—I had too much to drink, I think. There’s just so many people and I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

The new bar is halfway across town, but Tommy makes it in six minutes. It’s at capacity, just as he’d anticipated, all the townsfolk trying to see for themselves what all the hype is about. Tommy might recognize a few faces if he gave anyone but you half a second of thought, but he doesn’t.

He makes a beeline for the women's restroom at the back of the bar and ignores the scowls he receives from the two girls touching up their makeup in the mirror. He calls your name and finds you in the very last stall, sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around your legs.

Tommy breathes a little easier when he sees you. Knows that with him, you’ll be safe. He kneels at your side and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You let out the softest whimper. “Uncle Tommy,” you say, voice filled with affection. “You came.”

“Course I did. S’alright. C’mon.” He tucks his arms beneath you and pulls you to your feet. Supports your weight almost entirely as he leads you out of the crowded bar and back to his truck.

When he leans over your slumped frame to try and buckle your seatbelt, you start peppering the side of his face with sloppy kisses.

He says, “Okay, alright一would you just一sit still一”

But he doesn’t mean it. Not really. You’re a giggly mess of a girl, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and sliding your cold hands over his too-warm skin. “You’re just.” Kiss. “So.” Kiss. “Fucking cute.” Kiss.

Tommy’s smiling hard, but pushes you away as much as he hates to. “Cute, huh? Don’t know about all that, sweet girl.” He finally latches your seatbelt and quickly rounds the truck to the driver's side.

You're reaching for him the moment you can, arms outstretched and fingers grabbing for him. “Hold my hand,” you say, and of course he does. Kisses your knuckles as the engine roars to life.

Tommy says, “Let’s get you home.”

And you respond sleepily, “You’re my home.”

He tries not to read too much into it. Knows you’re just sappy and drunk. You don’t mean it. Not really. Tommy’s seen you trashed before. Has covered for you countless times and has all those drunken texts you’ve sent him memorized. You’re always like this. Loving and overly affectionate, a happy drunk to your core.

But you’ve never said anything that moved him quite this much.

Home.

What a perfect way to describe it.

But he just shakes his head. “How much have you had, kid?”

You toss your head back and laugh like it’s the silliest question he ever could’ve asked. “Too much! That’s why I called!”

Still holding tight to his hand, you roll down your window all the way. The air is cold but fresh, filling the cab of his truck with the scent of the early morning dew. You lean your head against the leather frame and close your eyes.

Tommy’s not quite sure when you fall asleep because your hand remains in his, squeezing tight even in your unconsciousness. He checks on you every couple of seconds, monitoring your breathing and the soft, slumbering noises you make.

He hates to wake you, but does it anyway when he returns to his apartment. You groan in defiance when he makes you stand, and it takes everything in him not to give in and carry you. 

“I know, baby, I know. But I need you awake for a little while longer,” he says. “Gotta get some food and water in you first, okay?”

You fight him each step of the way. Defy Tommy’s every instruction, once bubbly demeanor now replaced with agitation. But once he’s got you inside, he lets out a sigh of relief. He lays you on the couch and disappears into the kitchen for only long enough to make some toast and fill a tall glass with icy water. 

He holds your head up with one hand and tilts the cup against your mouth with the other, doing everything for you apart from the actual hydrating. You eat the toast slowly and argue between each bite, but he persists.

While you sleep, Tommy sits on the floor beside you. Half monitoring, half admiring.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for a single second. Even though exhaustion weighs down his limbs, Tommy is more concerned about you than he is about himself. He spends the night stroking your hair and making you drink a little more water each time you stir in your sleep.

A few times, you wake up completely, turning over to try and find comfort. You whine and sniffle, and Tommy repeats the same tender words until you fall back asleep. “You’re alright. I’m still right here. Uncle Tommy’s got you.”

It’s late by the time you sober up, almost noon. Tommy’s back aches from sitting on the hardwood for so long, and he needs a coffee or a nap or both—but the important thing is you. Always you.

You smile when you see him, and it’s so warm. A kindness that he’s only ever received from you.

It’s a visceral reaction, his mouth pulling up at the corners. Like he just can’t help it. He sees your happiness and feels it, too. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you say. And then you grab his big hand and press it against the side of your face. Tommy can feel your joy, can feel the way the muscles strain as you fight off your sleepy giggles.

He runs the pad of his thumb gently over your cheekbone. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like my head’s going to explode,” you say, voice filled with so much faux cheer that it’s comical. 

Tommy chuckles and stands to his feet, knees cracking. “Let me get you some aspirin.”

He’s not at all surprised when you follow him to the bathroom, never far for very long. While he sifts through his medicine cabinet, you sit on the edge of the tub. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” Tommy promises. He dumps two aspirin into his palm and hands them to you.

It takes a second before you speak. You turn the little pink tablets over and over in your hand, eyes downcast. And then you say, “I was too drunk and overwhelmed last night, but that isn’t what scared me. Noah was there.”

Tommy’s heart sinks to his feet. His jaw clenches, his knuckles turn white. 

“He kept…I don’t know. He wanted to take me home, and I was dodging him all night, but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Followed me for an hour, trying to change my mind. He didn’t…didn’t do anything, but it freaked me out.”

Tommy thinks he’s never wanted to hurt another man so badly in his life. He takes a deep breath, makes sure his rage isn’t fueled by any rash decision. And then he leaves the bathroom and finds his shoes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Wait—Tommy, please don’t.” You follow, clawing at the back of his t-shirt. “Please.”

The fear in your voice stops him. He thinks maybe you don’t quite understand the gravity of the situation, so he tries to explain. “Can’t let this one go,” he says, shaking his head. “Not—Christ. Not this. He doesn’t get to make you that uncomfortable and get away with it. Fuck no.”

“I love that job,” you reason. “And I promised Joel—!”

“He’ll be just as pissed when he finds out—”

“I don’t want him to find out. Please, don’t.”

Tommy takes your hands between his. “Do you understand how much worse it could have been?” Tommy feels sick, thinking back on all those times Noah had made jokes about roofies and Tommy had just discounted it as dark humor. “Ruined your fuckin’ birthday,” he grumbles. 

You say, “He didn't ruin it. I got to spend it with you, didn’t I? That’s all I wanted.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. Tommy can’t hear such sweet words when he’s like this—hot and angry and murderous. “No.” He shakes his head. “He doesn’t get to—”

“If Joel fires me for this, I will never forgive you,” you suddenly say, voice holding a cutting edge.

Tommy doesn’t understand. “What? Sweetheart, he’s not going to be mad at you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing. Joel will understand why I have to do this. He’s going to be mad at Noah, baby, not you.”

“Who I swore not to cause issues with!” Tears well in your wide eyes, and Tommy feels something inside his chest crack wide open. He’s never seen you cry before, not like this.

He pulls you into an embrace. Holds you tight against his chest, arms wrapped around your shoulders. His hands shake, unable to get a handle on either his anger or his despair.

Against his shoulder blade, you murmur, “Promise me you won’t tell Joel.”

And Tommy does. Swears to keep this as far away from you as possible. He refuses to make matters worse for you and, Christ, the sight of you crying makes him fucking miserable. He’s never hated anything more.

Once you sniffles subside, you lift your head and say, “I smell fucking awful.”

Tommy laughs, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Go shower. I’ll find you some clothes.”

He picks out an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, sets them on the bathroom sink and decides to make you breakfast. But Tommy notices quickly that his eggs are expired, and the box of cereal on top of the fridge has gone stale. He has nothing to offer you, and he’s not sure why, but the realization leaves him feeling hollow. 

Eternal bachelor with nothing to his name. You can never be his, and Tommy knows this, but he thinks maybe if he were…better, somehow, that maybe you could be. But you’re too good for him. Too sweet, too lovely, too you.

And Tommy’s…well. He’s Tommy. And just because you look at him like he puts the stars in the sky doesn’t mean he actually does. He’s not like Joel, never has been. Has always gotten into trouble, doing things he knows he shouldn’t. Fighting or drinking or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tommy’s never had his shit together a day in his life, and you deserve someone who can take care of you. Someone less disappointing.

Someone who can make you breakfast, for fucks sake. 

He feels you before he sees you一your warmth at his back. Tommy’s eyes flutter closed when you slip your arms around his waist and lay your head in the space between his broad shoulders. 

You say, “Thank you for always keeping me safe,” and Tommy wonders how the fuck you always know exactly what to say. Like you’re in his brain, somehow—a sixth sense finely tuned precisely to him. 

Emotion bubbles up in his throat. Thick and smothering. He loves you, Tommy knows. Has never and will never love anyone like this again.

“You make me so happy.” There’s a tenderness in your words, soothing his every ache. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Tommy turns in your embrace. Cradles your face in both hands and promises, “You’ll never have to find out. M’always gonna be here for you.”

You kiss him, and Tommy lets you, even knowing he shouldn’t. It’s a little different than the one you’d shared at dawn in your bedroom. A little more heated, filled with clear intent.

He can sense it. Feel it in your every movement. Knows just what you want, what you need, and slips his tongue into your mouth when your lips part anyway. Let's you tilt your hips against his, feeling the growing hardness there, and swallows up your moan as he slots his knee between your legs. 

His breath comes fast, and he’s aware of just how wrong it is, but you make him feel so important. Like you really, truly want him. Not for the things he does but just for him—flaws and disappointments and all.

An addict who always craves your fix.

You rock your hips against his knee and breathe a sigh of relief into his mouth. Tommy helps you, grabbing at your soft thighs and pulling you back and forth to increase the friction. 

It’s too much. Too far.

This isn’t a drunken night. It’s the morning after. Stone cold sober, inexcusable.

“We should stop.”

“I know,” you say. But neither of you takes your own advice. He only kisses you harder, soaking up all of your benevolence for as long as he can. You slide your hand between your bodies and palm his cock through his jeans.

The surety of your touch is dizzying. You want him. It’s clear as day, but he wants to hear you. “Say it.”

You don’t hesitate, reading him like an open book. Tommy suppose, for you, he is. With sugary sweet words, you admit, “I need you, Uncle Tommy.”

He’s never been good at denying you anything. “I know, baby.” In one swift movement, he lifts you off your feet, and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. He kneels down and lays you back, right there on the kitchen floor, and tugs your borrowed sweatpants down your thighs.

You kick them out of the way, and he pushes your t-shirt up over your breasts. “Touch me,” you sigh.

Tommy presses his mouth to the center of your chest. Inhales deeply, taking the familiar scent of you into his lungs. He cups your breasts in his big hands, the rough pads of his thumbs grazing over the peaks of your nipples.

He kisses and licks and bites down the center of your belly, leaving shallow indentations in the shape of his teeth on each of your hips. When he presses his mouth to your pubic bone, Tommy leans back just enough to get a full look at you. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

A soft flush crawls up your cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much,” you say.

Tommy understands. Even though he’s been right here, right by your side, he hasn’t been completely honest until this very moment. Not with you, and not with himself, and not since that night in his bed.

It’s like being unclothed. Bare boned. You both know the truth of it, know that he’s your Uncle Tommy and that it’s corrupt and perverted for him to be here, kneeling between your legs. But he’s here anyway, and his mouth is watering, and he fucking loves the sounds you make when his slides his tongue through your slit.

He licks up the wetness that has gathered, groaning at the heady taste of you. Your hands tangle in his hair when he circles your clit with a pointed tongue, drooling down his chin. 

With one arm wrapped tightly around your thigh, keeping you in place, Tommy uses the other to gently press his two middle fingers into you. The sight of your arched back is extraordinary; the kind of goddess-like beauty the poets write about. Your pussy clenches around his fingers when he twists them inside of you and pushes firmly against that spot that has you writhing.

“That’s so一” You inhale sharply. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

It pleases him to hear it. Loves knowing that in this, he can never fail you. Tommy sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the sensitive nerves, and thrusts his fingers a little faster. He thinks he’ll never grow tired of this. Of the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you call his name.

“Oh, God. Please don’t stop, please.” He wouldn’t dream of it. Your body shakes beneath him, thighs trembling in the grip of his rough palm. He can feel your walls pulse around his fingers, and Tommy knows you’re close. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he slides his thumb easily through your folds to swipe it over your clit. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your soft belly. “Your pretty pussy always get this messy?”

You shake your head and say brokenly, “No, it’s just…just for—hmm—just—oh my God—”

“Shh,” he coos, chuckling lowly. “S’okay. I know it’s just for me. I know how much she likes it when Uncle Tommy kisses her like this.” He angles his hand and pushes it deeper inside of you, cock throbbing at the way you soak his fingers. “Give it to me.”

With a stuttering breath, you let out a salacious moan and your orgasm hits you hard. Your hands tug at the curling strands of his hair, your every muscle tenses, and your spine bends off the linoleum. His name falls so fucking beautifully from your sweet mouth, and Tommy wants to taste it. 

So he does. Slides up your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You whimper into his mouth and he swallows down the sounds of your bliss like fine wine. “There you go,” he whispers tenderly. His thumb on your clit doesn’t slow until he’s sure he’s pulled every last drop out of you. “S’that feel better, sweetheart?” 

You nod and giggle softly, a wide grin stretched across your face. The moment is filled with such happiness that it warms him from the inside out. 

And even though his cock aches, Tommy thinks this alone is enough to satiate him. Enough to curb that craving, just seeing your pupils blown wide and the pretty flush on your face. Knowing you’re fulfilled and content and that he’s the one who’d brought you to that high does wonders for his confidence. 

“You’re so good at that,” you say, and it makes him laugh. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he explains, kissing you hard. “Could eat you all fuckin’ day and still feel hungry.”

Tommy laughs when you turn your head to press your face into your shoulder, hiding the way your nervous smile grows. 

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now, darlin’,” he says, pressing his stubbled cheek to the side of your throat. He presses his lips to the curve of your jaw and grins when goosebumps form on the back of your neck. “Uncle Tommy just had your pretty pussy in his mouth. Least you can do is look him in the eye when he tells you how fuckin’ good it tastes.”

He can feel the way your spine bends, pressing your body firmly against his. But you’re a giggling mess beneath him, squealing at his filthy words as if worse hasn’t come out of your mouth.

“S’alright if you ain’t got nothin’ more to say,” Tommy tells you. “Gonna have to start from the beginning ‘til you learn to use your words again.” His mouth moves down the column of your throat, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

He’s slow in his pursuit, listening to the way your breaths become shallower and shallower as he lowers his head to the valley between your breasts. When he makes it to that sweet spot just below your navel, he stops.

“Wait,” you say, and he does. “I want…more.”

Tommy knows. He knows, and yet still, he urges, “Tell me, baby.”

“I want you.”

He thinks suddenly about the conversation you’d had on Joel’s back porch. The last time you’d admitted that you wanted him, that he’s all you wanted. Tommy doesn’t understand it, in truth. Will never understand what the fuck you see in him or why you not only give him the time of day but why you seek him out.

But what he does understand is this.

Tommy sees your need and matches it. Exceeds it.

You slide your hand down your body, fingers slipping through the wetness between your thighs. “Want you here,” you say. “I need it, Uncle Tommy.”

He knows he shouldn’t.

But you want him. And that’s the best high of all. 

“M’comin, sweet girl,” he promises. He leans back on his knees and grabs his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head. You watch him with half-lidded eyes as he undoes the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, and Tommy watches you. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs, shoving the denim down around his hips just enough to take his heavy cock out. 

You take him in your delicate hand and press his tip to your clit, sliding it slowly through your slick folds. Such a gentle movement, but it has his breath stuttering already, and Tommy has no fucking idea how he’s going to make this last. “Go slow,” you say. “Wanna feel every inch.”

Tommy notches himself at your entrance and does just as you ask. Pushes into you so carefully it’s almost painful. His every instinct urges him to surge forward, to split you open and bury himself inside of you. But the whimpers you make as you adjust to the stretch he creates keep his head on straight.

It’s the most pornographic image he’s ever seen, watching your sweet pussy greedily swallow up his cock. You’re so wet, dripping for him, and it makes these obscene sounds with each pressing inch that has Tommy’s heart beating hard against his sternum.

“Shit,” he hisses. “You feel so good, baby.” Once he’s fully seated inside you, his waist pressed against yours, Tommy rolls his hips, and the movement has you gasping. He can feel your walls clamp down around him, and it only spurs him on more. He does it again, a gentle pressure at the deepest part of you he can reach.

“It’s so—so big,” you whine, fingernails clawing at the back of his shoulders.

Tommy only smiles. Kisses your mouth tenderly and says, “You can take it. Hm? My perfect girl. Made just for me.”

One of his hands slide up the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist, while the other comes to circle your clit. He can feel your body’s reaction, can feel the way you squeeze tight around his cock.

You nod frantically, the beginnings of tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You breathe out the word, “Yours,” and he feels his orgasm threatening already, building at the base of his spine. “I’m all yours.”

Tommy circles your clit and sets a steady pace. Fucks you slow, fucks you deep. Just how you need it, delighting in your moans. He presses his mouth softly to your temple, your cheek, and spends a little extra time with his teeth at that spot just behind your ear. “Look at me, baby,” he says, nudging his nose against yours.

When you do, your eyes are all starry in that way he loves, filled with awe. You’re the only person to ever look at him like that, with not an ounce of disappointment. It’s like you’re just happy he exists, and Tommy feels emotion build in his throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you say, and so he quickens his pace, circling your clit faster. “Don’t stop, God, I’ve—I’ve missed you so bad, Uncle Tommy.”

It’s the most dizzying thing he’s ever heard. It nearly tips him over that edge. But he needs to feel you first, needs to make sure you get everything you need. “Yeah, I know it,” he says tenderly, thrusting in deep. “Missed my baby, too.”

He thinks it’s an understatement. Feels wrong, saying he’s only missed you when he’s thought of nothing else.

Tommy knows you’re close, can feel the way you pulse around him, breathe stuttering. “That’s it,” he mutters. “You gonna cum for your Uncle Tommy? Hm?”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m—”

“S’good, baby,” he whispers against your mouth, keeping his rhythm. “So fucking good for me.”

Your moans echo off the walls as you reach that peak, thighs trembling around his hips. He can feel a rush of moisture against his cock and he tears a low sound from somehwere deep in his chest.

He doesn’t stop, chasing his own high, even when you start to squirm beneath him. His fingers stay circling your pretty clit, ratcheting the pleasure higher and higher until—

“My face,” you suddenly say. “Want you to cum on my face.”

Tommy thinks you’re going to be the death of him.

Perfect, filthy girl. 

He pulls out of you quickly, orgasm dangerously near. You prop yourself up, palms against the kitchen floor behind you, while Tommy takes his cock in his hand and squeezes. “Goddamn,” he groans. “Ask me nice.”

With the prettiest, most innocent smile, you say, “Cum on my face, Uncle Tommy. Please, please, please.” You stick out your tongue and look up at him, and that’s what does him in. The fucking love in your eyes.

Tommy cums hard, stroking his cock over top of you. Sticky, white ropes of his release coat your face, leaving splotches on your cheeks, your chin, down your chest. It’s disgusting. Easily the worst thing he’s ever done in all his life.

But when he’s finished and his cock begins to soften, you swipe the mess off your chin and push it onto your tongue and moan. Like it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. And any remorse he once had vanishes into thin air because how can he be sorry when you look so happy?

You giggle and say, “Guess I got that pearl necklace after all,” and Tommy has to look away to keep from laughing too hard.

He cleans you up with a hand towel and water from the kitchen sink, shoulders a little lighter. And once you’ve got his borrowed clothes back on, Tommy watches with reverence as you move around his kitchen as if you belong in it. 

You open the freezer and go right for the half empty carton of mint chip ice cream. It’s your first choice. Not expired eggs or stale cereal. 

Seeing it gives him a flicker of false hope. 

Because he knows he can’t be what you need forever. Knows he won’t keep you in the end, knows that whatever this is isn’t sustainable. But maybe he can just…keep you happy to the best of his ability. Just for now.

You only grab one spoon but offer him the first bite. “Mint chip is the best flavor by a fucking mile,” you say. “And anyone who says otherwise is delusional.”

“Keep that up when Sarah finds out it’s your favorite,” Tommy insists. “Cause she’ll fuckin’ tear you apart. Believe me, I know from experience.”

Laughter falls from your lips when he hands you the spoon. “Oh, I know. Was a victim of her chocolate chip cookie dough defense monologue, too.”

Tommy’s phone rings on the kitchen counter, and he swallows hard when he sees Joel’s name flash across the screen. When he answers, there’s a trace of alarm in Joel’s voice as he asks if he’s seen you. “Just a little concerned is all. Figured her phone’s dead or somethin’ but…haven’t heard back since last night. Just wanted to make sure she got somewhere safe.”

He’s never lied to Joel in all his life, and Tommy knows he would sense it the minute he tried. So he tells as much of the truth as he can. “Yeah, she uh…called me early this morning. Picked her up from that bar an’ let her crash on the couch. I’ll be bringin’ her home in a minute.”

You gather your things, and Tommy tries not to let that sliver of emptiness trickle in too fast. You’re still here, still with him, and this moment still belongs to you even at its close.

Like always, you sense his gloom before it’s even fully hit. And when he pulls into Joel’s driveway, you thread your fingers through his and say, “Stay for dinner. I miss you already.”

Tommy knows he shouldn’t. Knows that feeling lightheaded just from your words alone is a real problem for him.

But he’s never been good at telling you no.

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[divider by @bernardsbendystraws]

[limarkova]

Experimental Obsession

Pt 9

Author's note: Hey guys! I promise I have not disappeared my school semester is just kicking up and I'm focusing on that. Anyway I started up a Ko-Fi so you want to you can leave a tip. Link is my bio. As always thank you for reading my work and all the engagement. Writing this has been oddly therapeutic so I'm glad that someone is enjoying it.

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The Library was once again quiet as you walked in. One of the librarian nodded to you as you strolled by. Quietly opening your bag, you returned some of the books you got the other day. A part of you still felt buzzy and hollow. The strange tickling feel lingered in your chest like a bad habit. A part of you felt like that feeling was going be there forever and you hated that. You were saved from it when you caught sight of your investigation notebook inside your bag the feeling changed.

The tingling shifted into a burning rage that smoldered in the pit of your being. Filling the hollow space inside of you with venomous smoke. It killed the small pieces of hope that said your 'family' was telling the truth, that they didn't know. The smoke took the hollowness away. You loved the rage for that, embracing it like life-line.

Turning to the study areas in the back you moved to the one you used yesterday. Talia wasn't there yet. In the isolated part of the library, you began to update your journal.

First you scraped your orginial list. Things were changing, you couldn't punish the whole family. No it wouldn't be fair to those who were involved. Plus you knew you needed to hone your intentions from experience. Even though you could have gone after all the scientists and guards during your escape, you focused on the exit instead to ensure you got out. It had more you more efficient. That's what you needed here.

Obviously there was Bruce simply because he had to have approved the whole thing. You wrote Bruce Wayne at the top left of the page. Under his name you wrote the evidence you did have, the financial records. You thought back on the past days than wrote down, "Past injuries to Robins/Allies=Motive?"

On the right side of the paper you wrote Richard Grayson. Under his name you wrote attempted to get information, admitted to knowing boarding school was a lie, was one of four to know 'real' boarding school location. Thinking a bit you decided to add "potential motive= over protective of allies/ Jason's death?"

Halfway down the page under Bruce's name you wrote Alfred Pennyworth. Beneath it you wrote pretty much the same thing as Dick; knew about the boarding school and was one of four to know real location. Afterwards you wrote "painfully loyal to Bruce. Would have information on what happened? Motive=Unclear."

On right side of the page and on the same lines as Alfred you wrote, Cassandra Cain/Wayne. Under her name you wrote "Choose the 'boarding school'. May have read investigation journal. Spied on me two years before kidnapping." For motive you simple drew a question mark. You honestly had no clue why she would have chosen to help Bruce with the experiments.

You considered adding Barbara but stopped yourself. Yes this morning had been a lot but the signs on her were mixed. If she was acting the part much like Dick was than she was just as dangerous to interact with. Yet if she wasn't and genuinely wanted to help than maybe she would be a good source of information. She might be a good source either way. You'd leave her off the list for now.

Turning the page you had just barely written out Edward Davis and Clint Owen when someone cleared their throat. Closing the notebook, you saw Talia standing at the entrance of the study area. Giving her your best easy going smile you greeted her, "Hello Ms.Talia"

"Hello dear. How are you doing today?" She set her bag down on the table. It let out a soft thud when she set it down. You guess she had learning tools in it. That or books, it was a library after all.

You nodded to her and began to pull out different notebook. Tucking your investigation notes away for bow. She watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. Her mouth quirked to the side and she tilted her head towards your bag. A nervous laugh left your mouth, "Yeah, I'm doing okay. Sorry this one's my diary, don't think I should mix personal problems with Arabic notes."

"Oh, I'm glad you journal. It's good for development." She gave you that mother's smile she had. Something in you preened at the look but it was under cut by your own sarcastic thoughts. 'Would she be proud if she knew what it was really for?'

She gestured behind her to someone hidden just out of sight from the little alcove. "I have someone I want you to meet."

A man stepped into view. He was slightly taller than Jason but not by much. His hair appeared to be well groomed, almost like it was permanently styled. Parts of his hair were white, not in the salt and pepper white of aging but in a way that felt intentional. His features were stoic and calm. Something about him reminded you of half your family. Maybe it was sure footing or the steady stance but you knew he was trained to fight.

Yet that wasn't what stopped your brain. He was familiar. Not in the I've seen him on the street before way but in a deeper, I've known you in the past way. It felt like something in you cracked it's eyes open. That hidden part of you whispered to watch, to learn, to leave. Need this new thing in you be quiet you spoke quickly, "I'm sorry but have we met before?"

Talia blinked looking at the man. He also gave a slight look of surprise that disappeared quickly. Whatever their reactions were it was enough to get that part of you to quiet down. Tension left your body as you watched how the man would respond. There was an edge to his smile that told you he was impressed, "I don't believe we have. My name is Ra's Al Ghul, I am Talia's father."

"I'm (Fake Name). Are you one of the material art teachers Ms.Talia mentioned?" You held your hand out to him. If he was slightly impressed before he was completely impressed now.

Shaking your hand he asked, "How could you tell?"

You thought for a minute before answering, "The way you stand. Everyone I know who has had extensive training of some kind stands a certain way. Almost like they can't help but do it automatically."

That seemed to be the right answer. Both him and Talia shared a look. Ra's gave a subtle nod that made Talia's smirk grow the smallest but. She lifted an eyebrow as if to say 'watch' before clapping her hands once.

"Well than, after your lessons today my father will show you some of the basics." Talia offered, pulling things out of her bag. You looked at the items intrigued, it seemed to be learning aid for a different alphabet. An eager smile crossed your lips as you readied your notebook.

Jason leaned against his motorcycle holding a kid sized helmet. A cigarette hung out of his lips as he waited, watching the library doors like a hawk. Roy was nearby on his own bike. Neither one of them spoke.

Finally (Name) came out from the library. She was clutching her backpack looking around the space. When her eyes caught on him, she got a confused look. Jason put out his cigarette, gesturing for her to come over. "Hey kiddo."

"What are you doing here?" She walked up to him. Her body was angled away from him. A habit she seemed to have picked up with everyone.

Jason shrugged, "Tim told me to pick you up. Didn't he text you or something?"

Her face slackened before she bluntly stated, "I don't have a phone."

"Shit, did that get stolen too?" Jason rolled his eyes. Of course her kidnappers would take her phone, that was kidnapping 101. Maybe they could track it down to try find some evidence.

She gave he an absurd look, "No. I've never had a phone."

"The fuck..." Jason rubbed his eyes. Bruce was going to send you to a foreign country without a phone. No fucking wondered she got kidnapped. He tossed her the helmet, "Okay, we're fixing that. Put the helmet on let's go."

"And where are we going to?" She caught the helmet but didn’t put it on. In fact she gave it a strange look before turning her gaze back to him. Her look told him she didn't trust him. That wasn't good, he needed her to trust him.

Before he could answer, Roy spoke up. Jason couldn't tell he wanted to punch Roy or thank him for what left his mouth, "We're gonna go get lunch than see if we can max out your Dad's credit card."

"Sorry what?"

"Yeah, take you phone shopping than grab whatever else you need. Or want honestly." Roy snubbed out his own cigarette before lazily stretching. (Name) looked at the helmet for second before looking back to Jason and Roy. Jason could see consideration in her eyes.

"Can I get one those fake nose piercing things with the magnet to give Bruce a heart attack?" She gave them a sweet guilty smile and batted her eyelashes. Jason snorted, trying not laugh. Roy didn't care and double over laughing.

Of course her first thought was how to piss off Bruce with this. There was a surge pride in his chest. She gave him a hald assed shrug. Jason gave in to the laughter, "Fuck. You are my sister!"

"Hell yeah, let's go!" Roy pulled himself together enough to get on his bike. Jason gestured for her to put on the helmet and hop on. He secured her in the seat behind where he would sit before hopping on himself. After giving her a quick safety brief, they were flying down the highway.

The rest of the Outlaws were waiting for them at a Burrito Buck down by Jason's apartment. He lived relatively close to Crime Alley so if her goal was give Bruce a heart attack he was helping already. Everyone was passing around greasy Mexican food when him, Roy and (Name) pulled in. Jason could feel his phone going crazy in his jacket pocket. Handing his sister over to Roy he pulled out his phone to see what was going on.

4 missed calls from B

7 missed calls from Dick🖕

2 missed calls from Cyber Stalker

8 missed calls from Human Flashlight

3 missed calls from Murder Germlin

4 missed calls from Purple Chick

1 text unread message from Tim.

Jason sighed running his hands through his hair. What the fuck could have happened for them to be calling this much. Just when he was about to call one of them back he saw the preview of Tim's text. "She doesn't want to see Bruce" the rest of the message was faded out. Jason went to click the notification when his phone started ringing again.

"Great..." Jason rolled his eyes. His phone blaring a custom ringtone warning that his brother was calling. Pressing answer he launched right into it, "What do you want, Dick?"

"Where are you? You were supposed to be back by now? Is (Name) with you?" Dick panicked voice came out of the phone. Jason almost rolled his eyes again. This is what got them all panicking. Did they seriously not trust him with her?

"Yeah, (Name) with me. She said she was hungry so we stopped to get food." Jason shrugged moving towards the restaurant's window. He could see Roy leading his sister to the table. Kori immediately got up to hug her but was pulled back by Artemis.

"Dude, we were going to take her to get lunch before doing a family day." Dick half whined in his ear.

Jason paused. He racked his memory for when someone mentioned a family day but couldn’t come up with anything really. "Hold up. When did you guys decide to do a family day?"

"This morning at breakfast. Steph pointed out that (Name) and Duke have never been apart of a family day. So we decided to have one." Dick said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Jason popped his jaw to relieve the tension that shot through his body. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the one picking her up he wouldn't have been invited. Rolling his neck he sarcastically drawled out, "Okay. So when were you going invite me?"

There was a heavy pause. Dick said the words like he handling a bomb, "when you got here with (Name)?"

"Alright." Jason smirked to himself. If they wanted (Name) they have to find her. He knew his phone location was scrambled, a habit he picked up somewhere. "We're at the Red Lobster in the Heights. Haven't placed our order yet so if you wanna join in be my guest."

"The Heights? Dude what are you doing over there?" Dick asked. Jason didn't have to hide his mischievous smirk. The family would lose their shit on him for this but he didn't care.

"Didn't the one by the manor close down. Beside this one has the best cheddar biscuits."

"Just stay there we'll be there in 10 minutes." Dick said before hanging up. Jason nodded his head and clicked his tongue. He was going to have so much fun today. Turning his phone off, he went inside the Burrito Bucket.

His sister was sitting next to Roy listen to him tell a story. She had a taco in hand nodding along to what he was saying, sour cream stuck in the corner of her mouth. She giggled as Roy finished his story, "Yeah so after leaving me in a Denny's Bathroom for 30 minutes without pants, the dude had the audacity to sit there showing me photos."

"What story did you just tell her?" Jason squeezed into the booth with the rest of the Outlaws. One look around the table told he really didn't want to know. Everyone at the table had a shit eating grin. His sister let out a devious little giggle. He started to hope it wasn't an inappropriate one.

"You left him in a Denny's without pants to go and watch my 2nd grade science competition?" She sounded half shocked and half amused.

Jason groaned face palming. Oh course it was that story. Roy would never let him live it down, "Please tell me you didn't tell her why you were pantless in a Denny's Bathroom."

The Outlaws started to laugh. It was Artemis that responded to (Name)'s question, "He's done shit like that to all of us. He had Bizarro fly him back to Gotham leaving me somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest for a Christmas recital."

Bizarro nodded with a huge smile, "He did not."

"Yeah, and than he'll sit there showing us pictures of the event he ditched us for." Roy laughed before taking a bite of his burrito. Jason was hiding his face behind his hand. Sometimes he forgot that the Outlaws loved to embarrass him.

(Name) turned to him. Her expression was a mix of confused and happy. His heart dropped at she said, "I thought you didn't show up to any of those cause you hated me."

Jason blinked looking at her. He had shown up but stayed hidden from her. He was dangerous to be around, he knew that much. Yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be there. He sighed pulling her into a side hug. She tensed but let him, "B depends on the day of the week honestly, but you never."

She looked up at him with bright eyes, the small amount of sour cream still stuck to the corner of her mouth. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away.

Maybe it was parental instinct, that made Roy keep an eye on the girl. She was close in age to Lian. Whatever it was he was glad he did. (Name) showed startling signs of PTSD. From the hypervigilance to disassociation to increase anxiety, shame, sadness and aggression. It was made worse knowing the family she was in. The Wayne's would support her but it was unlikely she'd get the professional help she desperately needed.

They had gone to a mall with a phone store to get her set up. Kori and Jason's Sister were up ahead of them talking. Suddenly there was a squeal of excitement from the little one and she bolted ahead. Kori shrugged, "She saw something she likes."

With that Kori ran ahead to keep an eye on her. Roy stopped Jason before he jog to catch up to the girls. The vigilante seemed confused when Roy stopped him. Taking a deep breath Roy began, "You need to get your sister help."

"What?" Jason gave Roy a weird look. The two look at each for a moment. Roy took a deep breath, not a great way to start this conversation. Still he pushed forward.

"You and your family have a bad habit of just toughing through your mental health issues." Roy placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. He continued on, "Yes, you all support each other but when it comes to the more serious stuff all of you tend to just destroy yourselves. She doesn't deserve that. If you get her actual therapy and help than she has a chance of being normal. Or at least not implode on herself."

"Dude she'll be fine. I'm gonna keep her safe from now on." Jason shoved Roy away from him. Roy watched as Jason walked towards her with a sinking feeling. This didn't feel right. If (Name) didn't get the help she deserved, he could only imagine the path she'd end up going down.

They found her and Kori at the pound's adoption in the mall set up. The two girls were currently playing with a small cat. The paper displayed said the kitten was a russet dark ginger cat named Churro. (Name) looked up at them with wide begging eyes, "Can we keep him?"

"B told Damian no more animals." Jason sighed shaking his head. The little girl's face dropped slight before morphing into a pleading smile. Roy looked over to Jason who had a contemplating look.

"He told Damian no more animals. He has literally never said anything to me." She spoke in an pleading tone, pulling Churro closer to her. It was adorable to watch but the last sentence caught Roy's attention. He couldn't explain what it was about it, the tone or the wording. That hurt seemed to be coming back with a slight rage.

"I don't know. I don't think it's safe to drive with a cat and a kid on the back of a motorcycle." Jason scratched his head. She looked down at Churro in despair. The kitten mewled before nuzzling into her arms. She gave it a little kiss to the forehead, giggling when the cat began to paw at her hair.

"I can watch her well you go get the car from your apartment." Roy offered to Jason. He could tell she was emotional attached to the kitten. Maybe it would help her when her world felt like too much. Similar to how he use to hold Lian when his world was too much.

Jason sighed before rolling his eyes. "Okay fine let me fill out the paperwork real quick."

Once Jason was gone to get the car, Roy sat next to the girl. She was petting Churro who was curled up in her lap. Kori was currently talking with the adoption lady about the different cats. Roy nudged her once, "Hey kiddo. Can I see your phone?"

She stopped petting Churro to consider him cautiously. Roy gave her a reassuring smile feeling his chest tighten. Finally she handed him her phone. He put his secondary number Jason didn't know about in her contacts as 'Uncle Will.' He than add his main number to her contacts under his real name.

"There. Now you can call me anytime you need something from this number." He pointed at his contact with his thumb showing her the screen. He than showed her the Uncle Will contact, "This one you can call if you are ever in a situation where you need a pick up no questions ask. All you have to do is press Call and say hey Uncle Will I got your message. The only thing I'll is where are you and are you safe, okay?"

"Why are you giving me this?" She took her phone back looking at the new contacts. Due to it being a new phone those contacts and Jason's were the only ones there. She had insisted on not getting any of her other family members numbers.

"I've made a lot of mistakes around your age." Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Saying it felt like a understatement, he had taken part in massive fuck ups. Looking at (Name) reminded him that angry kid though, "I like to imagine if I had someone I though would pick me up no questions asked, I wouldn't have made at least a quarter of them. So if I can get you out of at least one dangerous situation, I'll consider it a win."

"Okay, but why give this to me?" She gestured towards herself with the phone.

Roy thought for a minute. He wasn't certain what was making him reach out to her. Maybe it was guilt for his past mistake or the little kid he use to be reflecting in the girl. Whatever it was may this necessary. So he decided to give her what he had wanted, "Because something tells you just want someone in your corner that cares regardless of what happens."

She blinked her face turning into a sad form of shock. Looking at the phone, she smiled. Roy considered reaching out to hug her. Yet before he could her face fell into a resigned melancholia. "Thanks, I guess."

"Come on, I have a great idea for giving Bruce a heart attack." He stood from the bench gesturing to a beauty store nearby, "I think that store has a hair dye called Arsenal Red."

That got her to smile. Roy sighed to himself slightly, hoping everything would turn out okay.

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[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[izzyy-stuff]

heyy izzy! i don’t think ive ever sent in a request to you before but i absolutely love your work so i thought i’d send something in. could you please do a roommate!taehyun fic where he accidentally walks in on you while you’re in the shower but then decides to join you which then ends up in him fucking you while you’re pressed against the cold shower wall and one leg pulled over his shoulder so he can hit deep :)

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘 - 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

roommate!taehyun x fem!reader

in which what originally was supposed to be just a quick shower to help him relax takes a different turn when he walks into the bathroom and sees you already in the shower, deciding to relieve his frustration differently than he originally intended to.

wc 2.5k

warnings shower sex, unprotected sex + creampie, vaginal fingering, tiny mention of nipple play, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, pet names, softdom!taehyun, biting/marking

↪ izzy speaks... I can't believe tae had zero works until now... like that's insane. I'm glad I can finally show it to you though. The writing process for this was for someone reason extremely SLOW. Everyone thank serene for being my life saver again and helping me get through whatever writing block I was feeling while writing this.

Kang Taehyun must have been the safest choice for a roommate ever. 

Unlike the other guys in your friend group, he was calm and knew when to shut up. Taehyun could cook, making your life a lot easier when he offered to make dinner as often as he could, and he was outside the dorm most of the time, too. If he wasn’t in the library studying after his lessons ended, you would find him in the gym, keeping in shape. 

He barely went straight to your dorm after school, so you had learned to get comfortable during your alone time. From using your living room for studying and making a mess with your papers and study books all over the floor, which he would have usually pointed out and told you to keep a system, to walking around the apartment with just your underwear.

So it wasn’t unusual when you sat on the couch in your living room in just panties and an oversized shirt you found at the bottom of your closet while cleaning up last week. You were surprised when you found it, confident you’ve never bought nor worn that shirt. But as you put it on, pushing your thoughts aside as there was no possible way of it being someone else’s if it was in your closet, you realized it was more comfortable than the garments you knew you owned. 

You have gone over the math formula hundreds of times and still feel like you see it for the first time every time your eyes land on it again. It doesn’t make sense. No matter how long you stare at it, the numbers and signs seem foreign. 

You sigh, slamming the math book shut and spreading out on the couch as a sign of giving up. You would have to ask Taehyun about it after dinner. But for now, you had other things on your to-do list for the day. 

Put your and Taehyun’s clothes into the washing machine (AND THANK HIM FOR DOING IT LAST TIME!!) 

Wash up 

Learn math 

Call your mom

You mentally cross out math, pretending it never existed. Still, you know you will have to come back to it. To this day, you weren’t sure why you decided to take another math semester when you didn’t have to. You were naive when you listened to your parents and signed up for “the only important class you will need in the future.” You had to scoff every time now when you remembered your mother’s words, knowing you wouldn’t ever need the formulas you were learning. 

Sighing, you get up from the couch and look around the living room. Looking at it now, you understand why Taehyun always wants you to have your work organized. It was a mess. 

Your fingers run through your hair before you pick up a few of your books and put them aside in the corner of the table so that other people can still use it. It also reminds you that you should clean around the house with Taehyun soon. 

But for now, there was the current to-do list you had to go through. 

You grab Taehyun’s clothes basket from his room, as you did many times before, kicking the door behind you so it would close before continuing towards your shared bathroom. 

Having a shared bathroom might have been the only disadvantage of living with Taehyun. You both tried to search for a bigger place so you could each get your own, but once you saw the prices, you both decided it was only a petite inconvenience. 

It doesn’t take you long to sort out all of his and your clothes by colors, leaving Tae’s underwear in the basket for him to do later on his own. You don't mind doing his laundry, just like he doesn't mind doing yours, but there are still limits to what you are willing to do for him. Even though those lines sometimes seem blurry in your eyes.

You aren't sure when or how it happened, but lately, you've found yourself wanting to step over some of the lines you had set for yourself when you first decided to room with Taehyun.

Maybe it was because of how comfortable you got with each other after half a year of living together. Perhaps it was because Tae had become your best friend over the years you knew him. Or, more likely, it was actually because of the amount of times you had seen him shirtless.

“We are friends, Ma. You don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant or something just because I am rooming with a guy. And you have met him many times. You know how Tae is.” You remember the call you had with your mom after you moved in, rethinking all your words. You were so sure back then that nothing could ever happen between the two of you, but a small part of you always wished for something else. 

You snap out of your thoughts, pressing the start button on your washing machine with a sigh. You step over the pile of white clothing you had prepared for the next wash, getting to the shower. You pull down your panties and shirt, hanging them on the empty peg beside your towel. 

♡⸝⸝ 

Taehyun was too exhausted to go to the gym tonight. He had enough. From missing lunch because he lost track of time while reviewing for his upcoming exam to completely forgetting about an assignment due last night. He just wanted to go home and relax for a bit before he would have to fall into the endless circle of studying again. 

So when he got through the door of your shared apartment, his first thought was to shower and go to sleep. He didn’t think much of what you were doing as he took down his shoes. Honestly, that was what he was the least worried about. 

Taehyun shakes his head as his eyes land on your books on the table, but then a smile creeps up his lips. You did listen when he scolded you about making a mess, after all. 

He looks around the apartment, trying to find you with his eyes. Eventually, his sight lands on your room, assuming you didn’t hear him coming in and were busy with your studies, so you didn’t come out to greet him. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

He doesn’t even properly register the sound of the washing machine as he walks toward the bathroom. For the first time in a while, his mind is finally blank, making him relax as he opens the door. 

Neither of you really realizes what’s going on until you drop down your shampoo, your eyes wide as you quickly try to cover your naked body upon noticing your roommate in the room. 

Taehyun’s cheeks could be mistaken for a tomato as his eyes travel from the bottom of your body to your face, swallowing everything he wants to say before even opening his mouth, stuttering. “I– shit, fuck– uhm, sorry,” he blurts out quickly, turning around so he wouldn’t face you. He doesn’t leave, though. 

 You can’t hear your own breath, nor his, as you stare at his back, your mind, unlike Tae’s, clouded with thoughts. “I wanted to shower. I’m– I didn’t know you were in here,” he says, you think. You’re unsure if any of the words actually reach your ears or if it’s all just in your head. Maybe he is just a figment of your imagination, too. He isn’t real. He isn’t standing in the bathroom with his back turned to you. 

“I’ve been so out of it today I just– I’m not sure what I am saying, to be honest. I didn’t mean to, though–” 

You cut him off, your words echoing in his ears. Still, he doesn’t believe what he just heard. “What?” He asks, his boba eyes making you feel weak in the knees as he turns around to face you again. “You wanted to shower and relax your mind, right?” You repeat half your question, your hands slowly falling to your sides. Taehyun bites his bottom lip, fighting all his inner demons to keep his eyes on yours. “Want to join me then?” 

You’re not sure what happens next. It’s all blurry in your mind. But the next thing you know, Taehyun’s hands are all over your body, “helping you to wash up,” as he said, but you both know that’s not what it really is when his hand just so innocently squeezes your breast. 

Your breath shakes as you feel him groan against your shoulder, sending shivers through your body. You tilt your head to the side, biting your bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping your lips as he kisses your collarbone, his cold fingers playing with your nipples as if he had touched them thousands of times before, as if he wasn’t afraid at all of the sudden intimacy. 

“Tae,” you breathe out, and he only hums in response, his lips on your neck. “Are you okay with this?” He asks carefully, making it almost impossible for you to tell him no. So you nod, whining when his fingers trace down from your chest to your legs, making their way to your clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles. 

“S-shut up,” your voice shakes as you try to grind against his fingers, muffling your moan when he removes his hand. Your pussy clenches around nothing when your name leaves his lips, his kisses moving lower on your back until you hear him kneel behind you. You swallow a lump in your throat when his hands wrap around your thighs, the water drops on your back sending shivers through your body. “Mind bending over for me, sweetheart?” 

It feels unreal. Your roommate’s head between your legs, eating you out as if you were supposed to be tonight’s dinner, was all a little too much. You weren’t sure how long you could last. “Wait– I’m–” you try to speak up but end up swallowing everything you wanted to say when his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You gasp, your hand slowly sliding down on the bathroom tiles as you begin to lose strength. You don’t think he notices, or at least he doesn’t do anything about it. His fingers pump into you so effortlessly, too. Somehow, it feels like he has been in your cunt many times before. 

Your first orgasm of the night is on Taehyun’s fingers, preparing you for himself. “Doing so well,” he coos, slowly standing up. It takes no time for his lips to find your neck again, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. “‘S too much,” you whine, turning your head around to see him. His boba eyes are soft, full of love even, you’d dare to say. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes out when his eyes land on yours, immediately kissing you. You fall into the kiss, turning around to face him. Taehyun takes a step forward, making you press your back against the wet tiles. The water dripping between the two of you doesn’t seem to bother him a bit as he wraps your leg around his waist. 

You are still kissing him when he aligns himself at your entrance, thrusting into you without a warning. You gasp, breaking the kiss. His lips chase after yours again, but you’re too busy trying to get used to him to kiss him back. “So good,” he praises you again, his mouth moving to your jaw and chin. You tilt your head to the side, trying to keep as quiet as possible as he thrusts into you again, starting slowly, with his eyes on yours to make sure you are okay. 

You nod to him instinctively, and he thrusts into you right away, this time faster, harsher. It doesn’t take long for him to set a comfortable speed, and you can feel all his stress in each thrust. “I needed this,” he mumbles. “Needed you.” 

It almost passes unnoticed by you, just some out-of-mind praises, but you catch onto it, and his words get stuck in your head. “N–Needed me?” Your question comes out as a broken moan, making him groan. “The whole day,” he agrees, only thrusting harder. “Everyone’s been getting on my nerves,” he explains. “Couldn’t wait to come home to you.” 

The ticklish feeling in your stomach makes you uneasy. You’re not sure if it’s another orgasm building up or just an after-effect of his words. Honestly, it might be both. But before you can think about it properly, another thrust comes in, with a few mumbles about how perfect you are before you feel his speed slowing down again, letting you know he is reaching his limit, too. 

It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts before he cums inside you, both of you too into the moment to realize he should pull out. Taehyun’s head falls onto your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop holding your leg up, assuring himself he still feels you on his body. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathes out, and before you can answer, you feel his teeth digging into the skin on your shoulder. 

You gasp, “What was that for?” He only hums in response, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. “A mark,” he finally mutters, making your eyes widen. “Wanted to mark you.” He says it so casually, while his hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit slowly again. You swallow a moan as his finger makes its way into your pussy again, feeling the mixture of his and your cum sliding down your thigh. You need another shower. 

You stay still for a bit, his head resting on your shoulder and your leg wrapped around his waist while your fingers play with his hair to assure him you are still there, not saying anything. 

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself immediately. You keep your eyes on his naked body, rethinking your next moves. “I need your help with math,” you proclaim quietly like you normally would. “I’ll gladly help you,” he nods with a smile. So happy, and for what? He was never rude about it when you asked for his help, but it wasn’t like he would be excited, either. This time, however, he makes you question what’s going on in his mind. 

“Here,” he says, the same smile still on his lips as he hands you your shirt and panties. “I didn’t know you were already wearing my stuff, but I can’t say I would complain,” he teases you, and it all finally clicks. Of course, that’s why you didn’t remember owning the shirt. It wasn’t yours in the first place. “Uhm–” you panic, trying to find a good excuse, but it’s already too late because all Taehyun can think about is the adorable blush on your cheeks.

TXT ⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez ✶⋆

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[sungbeam]

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢 𝐝𝐨!

nonidol!jung wooyoung x f!reader

the one where you're stuck in denial and wooyoung's determined to not be stuck in the friend zone.

7.7k words, fluff, f2l, they've kinda got a banter thing going on, he's in a frat cuz i said so, college au, swearing, kissing, mentions of alcohol and food, pining, obliviousness, jealousy/insecurity if you squint...? (sorry mark), barely proofread, overall pretty wholesome

a/n: okay... wooyo brainrot going hard lately, but anyways, hope u enjoy <3

The horizon glittered like a sea of molten gold when you stepped onto the sandy shores of the beach. Seagulls squawked overhead, riding the setting sky like your friends currently in the surf. You smiled to yourself, inhaling the briny air and slipping the shades off your nose and up onto your head. Your sandals hung limp in your hand as grains of sand embedded themselves into the soles of your bare feet while you jogged down the hill toward the bonfire and crowd of people.

The last week of summer before the fall semester brought your friends to convince you to come to their last bonfire at the beach. It wasn't difficult to persuade you.

“Oy, Yn! Head's up!"

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped up. Sandals fell from your hand as they came up to grab the frisbee out of the sky. It was plastic and blue, with scratches engraved into its surface from thorough use.

Hoots of approval erupted from further down the bank. "Nice catch!" Yeonjun praised as he jogged to meet you in the middle. A light blue Hawaiian shirt hung loose off his lean frame, unbuttoned to display the glorious, toned muscles of his chest.

You grinned, handing him the frisbee before picking your sandals back up. The two of you walked together back towards the group. "Thanks. How're you, Jun?"

He pulled you into a brief, yet affectionate side hug. "I'm great! You?"

"Same here." You had been itching for an outing—and dreading the first day back to class—so this would be good for you. “Who's here today?”

“Ah, y'know, the usuals.” He grinned at you then, sending you a teasing wink. “Your lover boy's here for sure. He wouldn't miss this for the world.”

Your skin warmed at the playful comment and you were failing to pretend it was just because it was hot out here. You rolled your eyes. “He is not my lover boy.”

“Based on the fact you knew who I was talking about though,” he drawled with a singsong tone. He let out a loud guffaw at your less than gruntled expression. “You know, he ditched his frat's annual pool party to be here.”

“That's his prerogative—I don't know how that relates to me,” you said with your palms raised up helplessly.

As you turned around to walk in front of him, Yeonjun wrinkled his nose with a grin. “It's cute when you're in denial.”

You scoffed, backpedaling in the opposite direction to where Changbin was hollering for him to hurry up with the frisbee. “Denial, as if.”

“Whatever you say, Cher,” he snickered, then raised his hand up in goodbye to jog across the sands to the game of frisbee.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. The sun glared in your eyes as you trudged through the sand toward the sounds of your other friends hollering at you from the barbeque and speaker system set up. You flicked your shades back over your eyes, an easy smile coming to your face. “Hi everyone! Smells delicious over here.”

Chan was stationed at the small, portable barbeque with a bottle of beer in his hand. He smiled as you neared, digging his hand into the cooler beside him to pass you a fresh bottle of hard lemonade. “You're right on time, Yn. Dinner is almost ready.”

“I do believe I have impeccable timing,” you mused, thanking him while accepting the bottle. You dropped your sandals to the sand by your feet so you could free your hands and twist the bottle cap off.

“So glad you could make it, Yn!” Lia chimed in from her spot beneath the beach tent. She and Chaeryeong were lying on their stomachs with books splayed out before them for a light beach read.

“Hey guys! Glad I could make it, too—”

“Oh my god, is that Yn Ln?”

Your head whipped around in the direction of the new voice, and you watched as Felix trudged up the sandy bank with his surfboard under his arm, his free hand brushing back his strands of damp hair.

“Felix Lee, you've been chickening out on me all summer.”

He gave a lazy smile back at you as the two of you clasped hands in greeting, his being cold and wet from the waves and yours dry and gritty with sand. “You say that like you haven't been working all summer. Anyways, there's someone who's been dying to see you even more than me.”

You could spot the impish mischief in the blond's eyes from a mile away. “I feel like everyone's been telling me the same thing, but I haven't seen Wooyoung anywhere.”

“First time she says my name, and it's not even to my face,” came a dramatic sigh from somewhere behind you.

The organ in your chest kicked into action and you turned to face the newcomer bounding toward the group from up the hill where the parking lot was. He was clad in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, his skin glowing in the golden afternoon light. “Speak of the Devil,” you jested, poking your tongue into your cheek as you smiled.

Jung Wooyoung peered at you from over the rim of his sunglasses as they slipped down the slope of his nose, then pushed them up to nestle in his locks of dark brown hair. “That nickname's a new one.”

“It's an expression, Jung,” you said, eyebrow arched.

He gave yet another melodramatic sigh. “And she's back to the last name-calling. Would it kill you to try a 'sweetheart’ or a 'darling’ one of these days?”

“I think Yn would rather go into cardiac arrest before calling you by your first name, mate,” Felix gave a warm laugh as he sidled up beside his friend, propping his arm up onto Wooyoung's shoulder.

You lifted your bottle of lemonade in salute. “Lix, you are not wrong. Where've you been anyways, Jung?”

“Did you hear that? She cares about my whereabouts,” he gasped in giddy delight, palm over his mouth as if he and Felix were co conspirators. “I'll have you know, Ln, that Hyunjin and I were scouting for ice cream carts, but he had a phone call to take so I came back here.”

You gave a pleasant hum, knocking back a sip of the spiked lemonade. “An ice cream cart? A man after my own heart.”

“Took you that long to notice?”

You weren't given much time to ponder on that statement before everyone's attention turned to Chan, who announced that it was finally time to eat. By some miraculous force of nature, Hyunjin heard Chan's call, too, and came barreling down the hill toward base camp a few moments later. The frisbee was laid to rest, the books were marked for later, and the bonfire was set ablaze.

With delicious eats and favored company, the lot of you gathered around with one another to have dinner and watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon line. It was the perfect cap to a long and warm summer.

A few hours later, when the sun had only just disappeared from view to leave the sky a lingering shade of hazy orange, you settled beside Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeonjun on one side of the fire pit while Chan sat on his stool with a ukulele he kept in his backseat. (You were pretty sure that ukulele lived in his backseat at this rate. Once, you saw him buckle the thing with its own seatbelt. To each their own, you supposed.)

“So Wooyoung-ah,” drawled Changbin from his perch beside Hyunjin, as the two of them plucked chips out of the same bag, “did Hongjoong say if movie night was confirmed for next Friday?”

All eyes flickered over to Wooyoung expectantly, and you found yourself meeting his gaze as his own flitted from your eyes and back to Changbin. “I’m pretty sure we're still on for Friday, yeah. All of you better be there,” he said pointedly, his finger drawing over the group.

“What time is it again?” Yeonjun asked as he shoved a marshmallow into his cheek. You smiled to yourself and poked at it, making him send an adorable scowl your way.

Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Ah… it should start around nine o'clock. But make sure you guys text me first so I can let you in. Sometimes the pledges don't care to ask before collecting fees at the door.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded from around the group. Each one of you had your own experience with getting hassled for entry fee at the ATZ fraternity door before Wooyoung or one of his frat brothers came to collect you. You remembered Felix once joking about having all of your names on a list or something.

“Ln, you're coming, aren't you?” Wooyoung nodded at you from across the bonfire. He leaned his elbows onto his knees, his fine features illuminated by the fires.

Your pulse skipped. “Hm? Oh, uhm, yeah I'm pretty sure.”

A smile curled onto his lips. “Good.”

From beside you, Yeonjun lightly smacked the back of his hand against your shoulder. “Hey, you should totally invite that guy from our Econ class—y’know from last quarter—?”

Your eyebrows creased. “Mark?”

“Who's Mark?” The question Wooyoung posed was innocent, but you couldn't help hyperfixate on the way he tilted his head and pressed his lips together.

And for some reason, you wanted to clear this up. “Mark from Econ,” you said. “He, Jun, and I used to sit with each other during class. I dunno if he'd wanna come with…” You somewhat kept in touch with Mark over the summer, but it wasn't like the two of you hung out solo or anything.

Yeonjun shoved another marshmallow into his mouth, but still spoke through it, “Mawk's cool doe. I fink he iked you.”

“Ooh, someone had a crush on you, Yn?” Hyunjin snickered.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “He did not have a crush on me; he was just nice.”

“You should invite him anyway!” Chaeryeong piped up as she leaned over you and Lia to steal a marshmallow from Yeonjun's bag. The owner of said bag watched the stolen marshmallow get swallowed whole with wide eyes. “More the merrier.”

“As long as Woo lets him in,” Felix muttered into his plastic cup so his words were slightly muffled. You didn't hear what he said, but you saw Wooyoung whack him and induce a Felix-standard fairy giggle.

You reached into Yeonjun's marshmallow bag, pretending he wasn't gawking at you with even wider eyes to guilt you into not taking his precious. “Okay, I will ask, but no promises.”

“Who the fuck is Mark from Econ?”

San barely glanced up from what he was reading and he flipped the page to the tune of Wooyoung's rapid pacing of their shared room. “He's from Econ, I'm guessing.”

Wooyoung stopped in the middle of the open space between their beds, hands braced on their hips. He had just gotten home from the bonfire after having dropped off Hyunjin, Yeonjun, and Changbin at their apartment. When he'd arrived home to the ATZ fraternity on Greek Row, he had not been surprised to find nearly everyone still awake, even at one in the morning.

San, as always, had his nose buried in a bout of nightly reading. He claimed it helped him sleep better, but how could it if he sometimes stayed up until five in the morning because he was so invested?

“That's very helpful, thanks,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

His friend spared him a glance from over the book's edge. Then after one peak at his sorry state, San sighed and stuck an old receipt into the book to mark it for later. “Did they mention a last name? Mark who?”

Wooyoung waved his hand around. “Agh, I dunno. Yeonjun said in the car ride home something about a Mark Lee…”

San blinked, head tilting to the side in thought. “Mark Lee? Like the Mark Lee from NCT down the street?”

For a moment, Wooyoung only stared with furrowed brows, allowing the information presented to process through his brain. When it hit him, it was clear as day. He groaned, dragging his palms down his face as he plopped down on the edge of his bed. “We can't let him into Friday's movie night, Sannie.”

“And why not? He's a nice dude.”

“That is exactly why we can't let him in!” At the way San's face arranged itself into the epitome of confusion, Wooyoung waved his hands around in a manic craze. “If he gets cozy with Yn, my chances are ruined.”

San gave up; he picked up his book again. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

“Movie night? Dark setting? Sharing blankets? Fairy lights overhead?” Wooyoung flopped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. It was the perfect way to get closer to you if he could somehow make it not weird since you were almost always with one of your other friends. This could arguably be his big breakthrough with you; it had all of the makings of a romantic night… as long as everything went right.

He just needed to be absolutely sure that your feelings and his feelings were on the same page.

San sighed, the book flopping onto his lap. “Why can't you just—I don't know—insert yourself?” He made a motion with his arm, his dimples digging into his cheeks as he pressed his lips together in a deadpan, arm jutting straightforward. “Insert. Like… insert.”

Wooyoung craned his head up from his position. “Like—insert?”

“Insert,” San affirmed. “She sits down, and you sit down next to her before anyone else can. Easy.”

“So you want me to be a parasite?”

San scoffed and fixed Wooyoung with a pointed look. “If you're not going to tell her to her face that you like her—”

“Parasitism, it is!”

As the days grew closer to the ATZ frat's annual fall movie night, you had to admit that you might have been severely procrastinating on extending an invitation to Mark. Mark was, by all counts, a nice guy. He was a good guy, in fact. But it wasn't like the two of you were buddy-buddy with each other, as Yeonjun made it sound like to everyone else. It was the equivalent of your mom asking you to invite your neighbor to your birthday party—they were nice enough, but you weren't close enough to ensure this wouldn't be awkward.

Plus, you couldn't get this sticky feeling out of the back of your mind about Yeonjun claiming Mark liked you. There was no problem, per se, with a guy liking you. It was just that… you weren't interested in him like that. You also didn't want other people thinking that you were interested in him either, and getting the wrong idea.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren't interested in anyone at the moment, but you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that wasn't true. You just didn't want to admit it. (A tragedy, indeed.)

When the first Friday night of the university term rolled around, you and your friends pulled up outside the ATZ frat house without Mark Lee. You'd admitted to them that it was awkward, so the subject was easily brushed away. There was nothing they could do about it now, anyway.

When they strolled up to the entryway, Yeonjun told the pledges at the front that they were with Wooyoung. As per protocol, they forced you all to wait outside until Wooyoung could get there from wherever he was within the house. You could hear the music thumping from the backyard, along with chatter and laughter, all from people waiting for the movie night to start.

You shivered as you hugged your arms around your body, a cool autumn breeze blowing past. “Damn, I should've brought a jacket,” you laughed, hopping around from foot to foot to stay warm. Or maybe you should've worn a sweater rather than a T-shirt over your pajama shorts.

Lia perked up. “Oh! I think I have o—”

Felix's eyes widened as he interjected, “No, you don't!”

Everyone passed Felix a strange look, especially you and Lia. Curiously, you watched as Felix seemingly communicated with Lia in silent, urgent facial expressions before smiling at you like his regular, ray-of-sunshine self.

You blinked. What in the world…?

Lia turned back toward you with an apologetic wince on her face. “I think I took my jacket out of the backseat before I left the house. Sorry, Yn.”

“Oh, that's okay,” you assured her. “I'll, uh, probably steal Chan's blanket or something once we get settled.”

Wooyoung appeared at the door moments later, a lollipop stick between his teeth and a cozy dark blue hoodie on his frame. Like many others here tonight, he was in a pair of pajama pants and fluffy slippers. “Hey guys! Come on in.”

Thankful for the excellent timing, you all slipped inside the front doors of the frat to get to the backyard. The movie night was usually held in the backyard space just because it could hold more people. The movie was then projected against the back of the house with an old projector that was apparently passed down from generation to generation of the frat. There was oftentimes a table to the side that was stocked with snacks and booze for all those attending.

Wooyoung led the group of you out into the backyard, specifically to a spot with a decent view, already laid out with picnic blankets and regular blankets. “Tada!” He exclaimed with jazz hands, catching the amused gaze of others nearby. “I reserved a spot for all of us!”

“Without permission!” Somebody—you recognized Yunho's teasing grin from over by the snack table—yelled.

“Seonghwa hyung said I could!” Wooyoung shot back in proper little sibling fashion. He stuck one of his hands into his pockets and took his lollipop out. “Anyways, help yourselves!”

“This is really cool of you, dude,” Changbin said as he bumped Wooyoung's fist and settled on one corner of the setup.

Chan hobbled over toward Changbin. “Yeah, man. We really appreciate it.”

You murmured your own thanks to Wooyoung as you passed by him to decide on where to sit.

His eyes flickered over your form, noting the way you used your palms to keep your arms warm. “Hey, Ln.”

“Jung,” you mused back.

“You didn't bring a jacket?” He asked incredulously. “It's gonna get colder tonight.”

Sheepishness washed over you and you scratched your head with an embarrassed smile. “I'll be fine under the blankets.”

He shook his head, dissatisfaction clear on his face, as he stuck his lollipop back into his mouth and began shouldering off his jacket.

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing. “Hey, wait—I’ll be fine—”

Wooyoung held out the jacket to you, eyebrows lifting in silent communication. 'Put it on.’

You pursed your lips and considered it for a moment. You knew that he was right and it was going to get colder later tonight. You could only bring the blanket up so far… Slowly, you slipped into it with his help, and your upper body was immediately grateful for the warmth.

Wooyoung spun you around to face him again, swiftly reaching for the zipper at the bottom to zip you up.

“Oh, you don't have to—” You shut up with one look from him. You could feel your skin begin to warm, not just because of the residual heat from Wooyoung's body heat on the jacket. You weren't exactly used to this, but you also weren't going to complain. This article of clothing smelled sinfully good—was that his cologne or how he always smelled?

When you were all zipped up, his lips pressed into a content smile. “I'm gonna go grab another jacket. I'll be right back,” he said, throwing a thumb back in the direction of the house.

Based on the fact he was only wearing a tank top underneath the jacket you now wore, you nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course,” you stammered. “Thanks.”

His smile widened. “No problem, Yn. You look good in it.”

You didn't get another word in because he was darting across the backyard and disappearing inside the house before you could. You were sure you looked as flustered as you felt, and you slowly sank onto the blanket set up beside Chaeryeong and Lia.

From down the line, you could feel your friends’ eyes and wagging brows.

“Don't say anything,” you said to them, pulling your knees to your chest and pretending you weren't in heaven from how nice the jacket felt and smelled. (Oh god, were you being weird about this?)

A snort from Hyunjin.

Felix giggled. “Not a single word.”

By the time Wooyoung returned, Hongjoong was beginning to fire up the movie of choice tonight (Parasite—how fitting) and the backyard had been substantially populated.

Though there was no Mark Lee tonight to be a parasite about, Wooyoung settled on the other side of Chaeryeong who was right beside you. There was a bucket of popcorn per every three or so of you. You dipped into the bucket closest to you, which was the one in front of Chaeryeong.

At some point during the movie, Chaeryeong raised her head from where she was resting against your shoulder and searched the area around you. “Hey,” she whispered to you, “my friend from the Delta sorority is over there and I'm gonna go say hi.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

As she clambered to her feet, you met Wooyoung's eyes from her other side. He had tugged his own hood over his head, so only his bangs hung out of it. He nodded toward Chaeryeong in question: ‘Where’s she going?’

“Just a friend,” you answered quietly.

From your other side, you heard Lia make a small gasping sound. “Ooh, I'm gonna say hi, too!”

When both of them had cleared out, you craned your head around to see if you recognized the Delta they went to greet. You did not, and so you stayed put.

It didn't take long for you to realize that you were pretty sure Lia and Chaeryeong were over there for much more than a hello, which was completely fine—you were simply going to hog all of their blanket space—

A throat cleared on your left side, and you watched Wooyoung take the shared popcorn bucket and scoot over into where Chaeryeong was sitting next to you. “So we can reach easier,” he reasoned, shoveling a handful of buttered kernels into his mouth.

You couldn't and didn't argue with that. Though, you were unsure of how fast your heart was beating now that you and he were shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.

But you turned your attention back to the movie because obviously there was nothing wrong with this. There was absolutely nothing about sitting this close to Wooyoung that was making you flustered—

You jolted when your hand touched his in the popcorn bucket, both of you having blindly reached in.

Your eyes met in the dark again, and you hoped he couldn't see just how affected you were by the touch. “Sorry,” you whispered, withdrawing your hand swiftly.

“No, it's okay,” he murmured back, a small lift in the corner of his lips. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

When the movie reached its inevitable conclusion, it was nearing midnight. Though the projector was turned off, there were plenty of people still lingering to chat and drink. You wiped your hands on a napkin and smeared on a dollop of hand sanitizer that Chan usually kept in his pocket. (The crazy man was always prepared.)

Lia and Chaeryeong eventually came back to the group, but you and Wooyoung scooted over so they could sit next to each other on your right. Your arm was still pressed to his arm, and you still kept his jacket on. It had done a brilliant job at keeping you warm tonight; you were dreading parting with it.

“Can we help you guys clean up or anything?” You asked him as you passed him Chan's bottle of hand sanitizer to use.

He hummed, “Uh, I think we should be okay. We'll probably just end up leaving half of it out to clean up in the morning anyway.”

You nodded, taking the hand sanitizer back from him so you could pass it down the assembly line to Chan.

“Oh, by the way,” Wooyoung piped up. “Whatever happened to that Mark guy you were gonna invite?”

You paused, cupping the back of your neck. “Ah… yeah, I didn't actually invite him,” you admitted. “I just thought it would be awkward 'cause we're not really that close.”

He bobbed his head in understanding. “I see, I see. So what Yeonjun said about him…?”

“Your first mistake was listening to Yeonjun.”

Two people down, you heard a squawk of indignation. “Hey! I heard that!”

A chuckle rang out amongst your group. Changbin and Chan's end of the blanket mass suddenly began standing up, the former of which was propping up a half-conscious Felix, citing needs to get the blond to bed. The rest of you wholeheartedly agreed and joined them, empty popcorn buckets in hand to deposit back at the snack table.

As soon as your bare legs hit the cold night air, you gazed forlornly at the blanket you'd been using before. “Jung, let me give you back your jacket,” you said, catching his attention before he wandered off.

But instead of waiting for you to take off the garment, he placed a hand over yours to stop you from unzipping it. “Keep it,” he said.

“Keep it?” You parroted back dumbly.

He broke into a smile. “Yeah, it'll keep you warm until you get home.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Was he always this pretty? Or was it just the fairy lights that were turned on overhead? You swallowed, your lips curling into a small smile back. “Oh okay—thanks. I'll get it back to you as soon as possible.”

“Whatever you say,” he chuckled and reached over to pat your head. The action made a jolt of warmth run down your spine from your head to your toes. Maybe you were just tired.

Saturday night, you found yourself jostling around in the crowd of all the other late night snackers at the fast food chain a few blocks from the stadium. The first college football game of the season had just ended, and all of your friends who had gone agreed to get a bite to eat afterward. It seemed, however, that nearly everyone else at the game had the same idea.

The establishment was packed to the brim, at least the ordering area was. Your friends had gone outside to score one of the picnic benches for your group, while you, Changbin, and Felix were stuck here to order. (It was all because the three of you sorely lost a game of rock, paper, scissors, and now your wallet would pay, quite literally.) Servers behind the counter hollered out order numbers, and plastic trays of burgers, fries, milkshakes, and grease passed hands.

Your mouth was already watering; cheering and screaming for three hours was a good way to make yourself famished. “Do we have everyone's orders?” You asked your friends, sticking your head in the open space between their shoulders.

Changbin flashed you the group text. “If it's not here, they're starving.”

“Amen to that,” Felix grunted, shaking his bangs out of his eyes and scrolling through his social media fees. “I think Hyunjin and Yeonjun purposely ordered the triple cheeseburger and loaded fries to break our banks.”

“We need to watch that WikiHow video on winning rock, paper, scissors,” you said. The three of you sighed altogether—next time, you wouldn't rely on just luck to get you through something so high stakes.

“You guys look like we just lost the actual game,” mused a familiar voice behind you.

Wooyoung appeared at your side, elbow propped onto your shoulder, accompanied by a couple of his frat brothers, San and Jongho. Wooyoung had a university branded cap over his head with a pair of cherry red heart glasses seated up on the bill, a bit of school spirit in the form of black and red. “I see you lost rock, paper, scissors, Ln.”

You scowled. Of course he knew how you ended up here. After all, he was subjected to it whenever he hung out with your group of friends. “Do you wanna take over my share of the bill, Jung?”

“Do I get something in return?”

“I don't know, your jacket?”

He grinned. “Oh, so you weren't planning on just giving it back to me?”

“I will gladly keep it if you don't want it. She's in the dryer right now,” you shot back. At some point, your heart had kicked up in your chest again, perhaps at the proximity of Wooyoung to you. There wasn't much space in here as it was.

The line scooted up about two centimeters, and Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in amusement. “You’re washing it after wearing it once? Or maybe you've been wearing it for the past twelve hours and you're just not telling me.”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. “It's called being courteous.”

“It's called wasting water,” he teased, the elbow on your shoulder shifting to an arm slung around both of your shoulders.

“Oh please. It's being washed with the rest of my clothes!” You exclaimed in your defense as you grew more flustered.

Something giddy lit up on his face as the group of you moved up closer to the register. “So that jacket's gonna smell like you? I might not ever wash it again, Ln.”

It was an unholy amount of time later that you, your friends, and the frat trio finally made it out of the stuffy fast food restaurant with your massive order. Instead of a picnic bench, however, it seemed that both your friends and Wooyoung's were exiled to the curb by the street. The sight was rather laughable—around fifteen or so people seated on the firelane like a line of abandoned ducklings.

Everyone practically swarmed the to-go bags that you and your friends deposited in the grass. You picked up one of the cartons of fries for yourself, standing just outside the circle that had formed.

Mingi was recalling one of the plays from tonight's game with vivid acting when you heard your name being called from down the road.

Curious, your eyes tracked the sound, only to see a group of fraternity guys making their way towards you from the direction of Greek Row. Among them, it was Mark Lee that you recognized first in a red bomber jacket and backwards cap. His cheeks were flushed and eyes twinkled like a pair of diamond earrings.

“YN LN! IS THAT YOU?” He giggled, and you just knew that the poor guy was drunk off his face.

One of his friends with a bunny-looking face grappled onto his arm with a groan. “Sorry! He was double-dared to take one too many shots by this bastard,” he said when they neared and cut a glare to one of the tall boys behind him. Said tall boy whistled, pretending not to hear him.

Yunho cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a loud holler. “Aye, N-City! Jungwoo, where the hell have you been, man?"

“It’s called the engineering program, bro,” the one you assumed to be Jungwoo grumbled. He hobbled over to where Yunho was seated in the circle and knocked his fist against the latter's. “Oh my god, can I steal a fry? That line over there looks awful.”

Mingi lifted his tray of fries up for Jungwoo to pluck a few.

Mark, with the supervision of his bunny friend, scuttled over toward you. “Fries sound so good, dude. Like bro. BRO. I am so hungry.” He giggled again as you extended your fries out to him in amusement. “Thanks, Yn. Do I still owe you for coffee that one time?” He slurred, shoving the slices of potato into his mouth.

You chuckled, offering his friend some fries, but was quietly rejected. “Coffee? That was like, once, Mark. Don't worry about it.”

“I know, but like—like, I keep thinking about it, y'know,” he confessed. In the streetlight, you could see his cherry red cheekbones… almost the color of Wooyoung's glas—what. Where did that thought come from?

Absent-mindedly, your eyes flickered across the circle to where you knew Wooyoung was seated with his brothers. To your surprise, you found him already staring your way.

“—it’d be cool to get coffee again sometime, and be friends! I almost took the next econ class in the series 'cause of you.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, forcing yourself back to the people in front of you and being unable to suppress a giggle. You were touched by the sentiment, and frankly, relieved to hear that you and he were pretty much on the same page about being friends. “The next class in the series is kind of ass though, so I'm glad you aren't gonna have to suffer through it.”

“Aw, but we're all in this together!” He chirped.

His friend gave Mark a small pat on his arm. “We should get a move on before the crowds get worse.”

Mark's eyes widened and he gasped. “You're right, hyung!”

“See you, guys,” you said with a small wave. The two boys threw a similarly warm goodbye to you as they slipped past you and toward the jam-packed fast food joint you had braved just earlier.

Across the wide social circle, Wooyoung couldn't hear exactly what yours and Mark's conversation entailed because of all the chatter. Sue him for being caught staring at you, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, as per usual. There was a familiar pang in his chest as he watched you bid Mark and Doyoung from the NCT fraternity goodbye, and he mindlessly finished off the tray of fries in front of him.

Although you technically implied to him last night that there was nothing between you and Mark, there was undoubtedly a part of him that still felt jittery at the thought.

There was a nudge against his arm. “Glare even harder, and Mark might wake up with a pair of holes in the back of his head.”

Wooyoung moved his scowl to San beside him, a snicker falling from his best friend's mouth. “I'm not glaring,” Wooyoung protested and reached for a napkin in the middle of the circle.

“Oh, right,” San drawled, “you're staring at Yn.”

“Yes, and?” He shot back. “What'd'you think they were talking about?” He could practically hear the sound of your giggles in his ears after Mark said something. Wooyoung didn't like the way that made his stomach churn—the fact that this other guy was making you laugh. Did he make you laugh like that? Did you look that radiant when you were with him? God, why did you have to be so gobsmackingly gorgeou—

San considered him for a moment as he chewed on the bite of his burger. “Why don't you ask her yourself?” He muttered with a vague gesture of his aioli-covered fingers, “I dunno, go offer to drive her home or something.”

“That's the first good idea I've heard all night.” Wooyoung hopped to his feet, a misshapen plan (of sorts) manifesting in his head. Hopefully it would work out better than the movie night one. (But by some metrics, he could consider movie night a success…)

San exhaled under his breath as his friend went to go find a trash can first. “Can't believe he actually went with that,” he said with a shake of his head. He could only hope now that his friend would finally put himself out of his misery.

Having finished your post-game snack, drowsiness was slowly seeping into your joints and the corners of your eyes. It was bound to be nearing midnight at this time, and with all of the excitement within the past two days, you were about ready to head back.

You swept your eyes over the group to gauge if any of your other friends looked about ready to go home, too, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Wooyoung asked as he stood there, cap and glasses hanging from his hand while the other carded through his hair.

Well. “It's like you read my mind, Jung,” you mused. “Do you and your brothers not usually carpool though?”

“Eh, Hongjoong hyung brought the minivan.”

You didn't know why that comment made you laugh—perhaps it was the image of a bunch of ATZ frat members shoved into a soccer mom minivan with Hongjoong at its helm—but a laugh most definitely tumbled from your lips. The sound and sight reflected in Wooyoung's expression, a boyish grin coming to his face and reaching his eyes. “Alright, fine. As long as by taking me home, you aren't abandoning them on the streets.”

The two of you began walking side by side to where he would lead you back toward wherever his car was parked. “Nah,” he reassured you with a shake of his head. He took his cherry heart glasses and slid them up into his hair. “A nice walk home might keep them humble, y'know?”

“And who's to say you don't need humbling, Jung?” You joked.

A smirk curled up on his mouth like a cat's tail. “What? Are you going to humble me, Ln?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug to cover up the rapid pulse hammering away in your veins. “I could finesse your keys, you never know.”

He motioned to the left where his sedan was parked along the side of the street. “I'll have you know that you already have one of my keys,” he said as he rounded his car to reach the driver's seat.

You crinkled your brows together, your hand lingering on the door to the passenger's seat as he fished his keys out to unlock the car. “What key?”

“The key to my heart,” he winked, smile widening.

You glanced away, tongue jamming into your cheek to suppress your flustered smile, but by the sounds of Wooyoung's glee from the other side of the car, you were unsuccessful. “You tell that to all the girls?” You finally said when the car chirped and you slipped into the passenger's seat.

Your car doors slammed in tandem.

“Nope, that one's just for you,” he said, tossing his hat in the back and starting the engine.

The fluttery feeling in your chest was making it difficult for you to sit still. If you were so enraptured by his scent clinging to the fabric of his jacket, then his car must have been level two. Your body melted into the car seat, and you turned your head to watch the world pass through the window with a content expression on your face.

There had been something gnawing at you for a while now. You knew Wooyoung boasted a rather flirty personality; he had always been pretty outgoing and teasing ever since you met. There were so many signs that pointed to him liking you more than just a friend, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions. (Denial? What was that?)

Was this different from when Yeonjun suggested that Mark liked you? Well, yes. This was different because you… it was different because this was Wooyoung, not Mark. It was different because you were suddenly marinating on the idea of him liking you, and not dismissing it like you had with Mark.

You were growing giddy at the idea, in fact. And maybe that made you nervous.

A thought appeared in your head. “Oh, I guess it's a good thing you're taking me home, because now I can give you back your jacket.” For a moment, you deeply considered casually “forgetting” to return the garment, but your integrity won out.

You saw him glance over at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Right, right. Good idea,” he murmured. He ran his teeth over his bottom lip then. “Hey, uhm, weird question.”

“Uh oh,” you joked.

He chuckled. “Yah, it's not an 'uh oh!’ I was just wondering what Mark came to talk to you about.”

Oh. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when he said he had a weird question.

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second. “You seem awfully interested in me and Mark,” you drawled, uncertain of where this was going.

“I mean—I know you said last night that you guys aren't that close,” he supplemented, tongue swiping over his lip as he turned the corner onto your street, “but he seemed pretty friendly tonight.”

“Mark’s always friendly,” you pointed out. Part of it was just so you could prod a little and figure out why Wooyoung was pursuing this.

“You're not wrong.”

Your head tilted to the side. “So?”

“So?”

You let out a small laugh. “Hey, Jung, what's going on? You're usually not so antsy about these things, especially not with me.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and your fingers drummed mindlessly against your thigh in anticipation.

Wooyoung glanced over at you again, his lips pressing together. He was entering your apartment complex street now and carefully pulled up along the curb outside. “I would argue that it's the complete opposite.”

“Huh?”

“You can't possibly think that this whole time I haven't been head over heels for you?” He blurted.

Even if the car had stopped, your heart rate most definitely hadn't.

At your loss for words, he killed the engine. “Like, you think I stare at you for fun? No, actually, I stare at you because I'm literally just so attracted to you, it's survival.”

You sucked in a breath. “Jung…”

“And you know, I try to be as obvious as I can, but maybe I'm not? And I'm—I’m trying to be as loud about my feelings as possible,” he continued on, adding in an accompaniment of sweeping hand gestures. “Without actually admitting to my feelings, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Jung. Jung, wait—”

“This wasn't supposed to turn into a ramble, but what I'm trying to say is—”

“Wooyoung.”

He screeched to a halt, eyes widened as if you'd just grown two heads.

Oh, you were so endeared by this man. In this snapshot of time, there was nothing other than utter adoration in your heart for him. “You were probably being very loud, but I'm also hard of hearing sometimes.”

“Extremely,” he agreed with his mouth pressed into a line.

“Hey!”

He broke into a grin that was soft at the corners and tender at the eyes. “Just so you know, I don't treat anyone else like you. You're probably the only person I will ever address by their last name as a term of endearment.”

You laughed, skin warming to the touch. “I'll admit—same here.” A jolt of electricity warmed down your spine at the admission.

“I can't persuade you to even try a 'honey’ or a ‘baby?’ Not even a 'sweetie pie?’”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe you'll unlock some of them as time goes on. It has to feel right.”

He leaned forward onto the center console, a small, happy sigh falling from his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I can deal with that.”

In reply, you twisted around in your seat to face him, your head leaned against the car seat. “Just so we're clear though…”

“I like you—I do.”

“Good.” Your lips curled into a smile. “I like you, too.”

In the low light of the car, the sky darkened and the only light coming from the streetlight a few cars away, you and Wooyoung shared a soft moment together. The thing that had been needling at the back of your mind was finally subsiding.

Swallowing, you reached forward to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his eyes seemed to shudder. “Yeonjun once called you my lover boy.”

“I'm pretty sure all of our friends knew how I felt,” he snorted.

You made a small gesture with your shoulder, wincing. “Except for me?”

“Except for you,” he sighed jokingly. “Utter pain. But you know what?”

“What's that?”

“I think I like being your lover boy.”

You slowly nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.” You couldn't help another smile as you rolled it over and over in your mind. Your lover boy, your lover boy, your lover boy… “My lover boy.”

Wooyoung pressed his palms together like he was praying, his hands touching his lips. “Give me the strength—I can't not kiss you after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

Your heart gave an aggressive palpitation. “Well… I wouldn't be opposed.”

“Hey, lover girl,” he said, mouth split open with a pretty grin, “can I kiss you?”

How could you refuse?

He leaned forward and cradled one side of your face with one hand so he could press his lips against your own. If there was any doubt left in your mind about how you felt for him, it was all dashed away once he kissed you.

When your eyes fluttered open, you met his gaze.

“I think,” he murmured, thumb drawing over your bottom lip, “I just fell for you all over again.

God, how could you compete with that line? You ducked your head, unabashedly flustered. He only cooed at your reaction and came forward to smack a long kiss to your cheek.

When it was determined that you would finally head up to your apartment for the evening, you reluctantly clambered out of his vehicle. He rolled down his window so he could drape himself out of it like a damsel in a tower, his eyes shaped like hearts.

“Is it safe to say that I can keep your jacket?” You jested, stopping in front of his window.

He huffed a laugh. “You know, I thought you'd never ask. But you'll have to trade me for something of yours.”

“Deal, Jung.” You were certain you could think of something.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed <3

atz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @synthwxve @atzhouse @kflixnet

[sceletaflores]

Advantage, Duncan.

pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

—or: tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick.

word count: 2.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.

The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.

This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 

You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.

Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 

You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 

It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 

She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.

Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.

Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.

She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 

You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 

An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 

Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.

She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.

She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.

“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”

‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.

Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.

“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”

It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.

Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 

‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.

When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.

Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."

Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"

“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.

You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 

Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 

Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."

You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.

If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 

Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.

She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.

“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 

Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.

“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 

You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.

She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.

Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 

Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.

Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 

Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 

“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.

Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.

Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 

Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 

You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 

Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.

Duncan: Game, Set, Match.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[kumkaniudaku]

Spring Semester

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

PREVIOUS

MASTERLIST

Chicago was so much better in the Summer. Had Asia visited when the sun was out, and the sights and sounds of a bustling Michigan Avenue felt like all-consuming magic, she might've changed her tune. Reflecting on the past was futile. Time had passed, discoveries had been made, and a chance to tag along with Savannah and the crew for her first industry conference in the city she might've lived in had things gone differently placed Asia squarely at the intersection of fate and opportunity. 

With a notebook in hand and her partner-in-crime's blessing to ditch part of their packed schedule for a solo mission, Asia sat at the back of a convention center ballroom listening to a young creative take a captive audience through a year's worth of award-winning work. The moderator described him as a promising creative director with a knack for turning cultural insights into resonant campaigns. If given a chance, Asia would've beefed up the fanfare just a bit but understood that to really give him his flowers, you had to know him beyond the office. 

"I imagine a full regional move like this was scary. Now that you're almost two years removed from the shock of it all, how'd that leap of faith propel you forward." A thought-provoking question. Asia couldn't stop herself from leaning in to hear the answer. 

On stage, Kelvin chuckled a bit into the mic. "It scared the shit out of me!" Ever the crowd favorite, his candid joke turned the audience into a giggling group, finally able to shed the uptight corporate image everyone felt obligated to maintain. He followed up. "Sometimes you gotta be a little scared – a little uncomfortable. I was actually really happy where I was before here and almost changed my mind. But, I needed to grow. A person close to me taught me how important it is to do things for your personal growth. It's gonna feel awkward in the moment, but just do it. Nike, I hope you heard that. We're on the same wavelength. Have your people call my people!" 

Pride began to swell in Asia's heart as she listened to Kelvin navigate questions about his craft from all angles. She'd been watching him from the sidelines. A highlight reel of his accomplishments flashed across her LinkedIn almost monthly. On Instagram, she caught glimpses of the life he'd built in the midwest. She knew he enjoyed trips to foreign lands and social events like a rockstar. She'd occasionally congratulate him in a private message, and he'd respond to her in a text to re-emphasize that he wasn't "one of her internet friends." For a few days, they'd pass back and forth surface-level conversation until things tapered off and they returned to their separate ends of the world. It worked for them. Though routine happy birthday and congratulations texts were far from where they'd been, it kept them connected hundreds of miles away. 

Hours later, and finally free from interrogation on the most significant stage he'd ever been on, Kelvin hovered over a curved bar, sipping tequila from a glass and swiping through networking requests on his phone. The last day and a half had brought him a bevy of high-powered faces and names vying for his attention. A particular face with a globally recognized athletic footwear company in her resumé disarmed his senses, preventing him from noticing the body encroaching on his personal space until a careless bump jostled his glass and the contents inside. 

He snapped his head in the direction of the offender with ire in his eyes, only for his eyes to widen when he took a gander at who'd committed the offense. "Asia?" 

"I'm glad you could tell it's me. I lost my name tag from earlier in the day," she joked. 

"Why do you keep trying me like I'm old and senile or something," he laughed. "Come here!" 

Their embrace carried with it grunts of effort and squeals of happiness as they rocked side to side between conference attendees, not caring who they offended in the process. Several seasons and necessary growth kept them apart. A reunion of this magnitude couldn't be contained behind polite handshakes and quiet speech. 

Kelvin pulled away first, lightly positioning Asia further away to get a better look at her smiling face and new haircut. He lifted his hand to trace a Betty Boop-esque swoop on her forehead. "I saw the pixie on IG but, damn. It's way better in person. Look at you growin' up on me." 

"Kelvin, please," Asia scoffed. "I know you not talking. I see you with the grown man watch and glass skin. You better be fine!" Her compliments earned a bashful smile as thanks. "Chicago treatin' you right?" 

"As good as it can. I can't complain," Kelvin shrugged, still grinning. 

Asia nodded and pointed to his glass. "You got time for another one of those with me?" 

He had plenty of time. If not for Asia's emergence from a sea of boring people, he would've slinked out of a side exit and disappeared for the night. Awards season was tiring when he was just a name in a long list of credits thrown online. Now that he was the focal point of every discussion and industry publication write-up, he barely had enough time to relax. As always, though, Asia's smile gave him a little extra boost to stick around for one more. 

Out on the veranda under a setting sun, they stood side by side, joking and laughing without a care in the world. Asia caught him up on the latest office happening, being sure to share that Linda had finally learned to make her own tea and now brought Asia a cup every morning instead. Savannah and Chris still bickered like a married couple. Ty found time to boomerang after Sid's departure left them down an account lead. Kelvin listened with a smile, mostly paying attention but still finding it impossible not to stare at her between stories. 

Asia felt the same. As he updated her on life in the city, she admired how he moved with the confidence of a man on a pre-destined path. He was still sweet and silly, continuing to find inventive ways to pass off a desire to touch as a haphazard, totally innocuous action. She listened intently for any mention of a partner, hoping for the best but preparing for some incredible young lady to appear in one of his stories. When nothing of the sort came through, Asia attempted another method. 

"So, how's it been for you out here? Thinkin' about sticking around?" Asia cooly sipped the last drops of her mocktail while she watched him smirk in her direction. 

"Yeah, I am," Kelvin answered truthfully. "I'm hitting my stride, and I think this is the spot for me until further notice." Following her lead, he tossed back the remaining alcohol in his glass and then shrugged. "But, if you're trying to ask if someone is keeping me out here, no. Six months ago, I would've had a different answer." 

Asia nodded. "That's fair. Me too. Eight months ago, but still. Didn't stick."

"So, you found yourself," he asked, a slight inflection betraying his attempt at indifference. 

"It's a process, but I'm closer than I was before." Asia watched Kelvin nod his understanding, waiting for him to say something to fill the silence. When nothing came except a growing smile, she stepped up. Extending her hand, she waited for him to grab it in confusion. "My name is Asia Scott," she started. "I'm not from here, and I don't live around here, but I think you are…incredible. I've never met anyone like you, and I don't think I ever will. So, if you're free over the next two days, I'd love to take you out and get to know you better. Because I think I look...a lot different outside my work clothes."

Asia's Alicia Keys reference made Kelvin guffaw loud enough to disturb what looked like a very important meeting of minds across the way. He looked back at her with her hand still in his and conceded to the moment. "Okay," he answered, shaking her hand back as if they'd only just met. "I'm free right now. How about you lead the way."

EPILOGUE

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers @wowitsafemale @kindofaintrovert @sexysativa605 @jvzmine19 @turn-thy-paige @lapateeserie @simplyzeeka @supremechae @palmstreesallday @blackmoonchilee @ovohanna24 @prettypynklemonade @gwenda-fav @itsash-okay @sparklytemi @blackchickinthedesert @miyuhpapayuh

[thegreenlynx]

Bunny Kisses

Description: Your first party with your boyfriend goes from dream to nightmare, but neither of you are about to let it come between you.

Pairing: Bf Seungmin x Fem Reader

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, A smidge of angst?

Content Warnings: Kissing, making out, some suggestive moments, small amounts of drinking, themes of assault (nothing super major, just a girl gettin a lil handsy)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Semester is done, I'm finally free! In celebration of that and my birthday I give you some suggestive fluff with soft yet teasing gentleman Seungmin.

You and Seungmin have been dating for a few months now. You started as friends and it gradually grew into more. The two of you are very much in love, but even now you are still learning together.

Tonight he has invited you to a party. It's a small party really, his friends are hosting. Seungmin wasn't particularly thrilled about attending in the first place, he's not the biggest party guy. However, he figured it would be a good opportunity to show you off, and so he agreed anyway with the only condition that you are allowed to be his plus one. Naturally, the guys weren't particularly opposed to the idea anyway.

He's styling your hair rather clumsily. He doesn't really know what he's doing but he'd insisted on getting you ready himself, despite you telling him he didn't need to. He wants to spoil you today, mostly because he is secretly pretty excited to be able to show people his lovely girlfriend, but also because part of him is a little nervous and he needs the distraction.

When it's finally done you look up at him first and he has a satisfied smile on his face, clearly proud of his work. He kisses you once on the forehead before spinning you around to look into the vanity mirror yourself. You look to find your hair goofily thrown up in a slightly messy half up-do. You can't help but find it endearing, though fairly imperfect. It suits your relationship quite well really and you find yourself giggling at the mirror.

You see him deflate slightly through the mirror's reflection, "Oh does it look bad? I think you look so cute though, I really thought I'd had it..." He frowns and absentmindedly begins rubbing your shoulders, you lean into his touch. "We've still got some time, I'll try again. I'll definitely get it right this time."

He reaches to undo your hair but you dodge and spin back around in your chair. You then grab his arms to stop him from going any further and he looks at you questioningly. "It's perfect, I love it. I only laughed because I was happy."

He pauses and blinks at you for a moment before your words seem to click in his head, "Oh. Oh good. I'm glad then."

He smiles and blushes, looking away to grab the lip gloss sitting on your vanity. He swiftly uncaps it and tilts your chin up with one of his unoccupied fingers. "Mm.." He makes a funny kissy face at you and you laugh before closing your eyes and puckering your lips to let him easily apply the makeup.

To your surprise however, he instead presses his lips over yours in a slow, loving kiss. You allow yourself to savor the moment and when he reluctantly pulls away you tilt your head at him. "What was that for?"

He just shrugs, his smile a mix of bashfulness and mischief. "Nothing in particular, really. I just love you." He presses another kiss to your lips. First a swift peck, that he quickly follows with an urgent and passionate open mouthed kiss.

He slips his tongue in your mouth for only a single teasing moment before he pulls back away with a deep shaky breath in an attempt to calm himself. He then shakes his head and makes a soft whistle noise, "Stop distracting me, we're gonna be late."

You laugh and look at him incredulously, "And what exactly am I doing to distract you?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head again, finally applying the gloss. "You're too cute, too lovely." He gingerly brushes the lip brush across your lips as you look up at him, his movements are shaky and awkward but he's clearly trying really hard to get it right with how slowly he does it and the way his brows furrow in concentration.

When he finally notices you watching him he groans, "It's hard to concentrate, quit looking at me or I'm gonna make us miss the party altogether."

"Oh?" You smirk and wrap your legs around him, still sitting in the chair. "What do you mean by that?"

"As much as I'd love to have you all to myself tonight I already told the guys we'd come," He starts, tone insinuating he's joking even though you know he's not. "Besides I need to show everyone how pretty I made you." He finishes, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he holds out a hand to help you up.

You take it with a light airy chuckle, allowing Seungmin to guide you to the door where he immediately drops to his knees to help you put on your shoes. You let him. "You seem to really like the idea of being my escort." A soft mumble.

"Yeah. You're mine after all, makes it pretty fun to take care of you." His tone is soft with sincerity and he looks up at you from the ground just as he finishes putting on your shoes. "Kinda like how a knight might enjoy tending his horse."

You blink at him for a moment before scoffing in exasperation, "Are you comparing me to a horse right now? And to think I thought you were being all sweet and romantic tonight too." It's a joking chide, but he freezes briefly and backpedals as he stands.

"I guess I coulda phrased that better huh? I meant it more like how knights are associated with horses and they're usually pretty fond of taking care of them. But I'm no knight and you're definitely not a-" You cut off his explanation with an abrupt yet soft kiss to his lips.

"Teasing." You explain quietly, reaching into the closet to grab both of your coats. You pull his over him and he slips his arms in the holes naturally.

"Right, right. Sorry." He sighs and takes your coat from you to put it on for you as well. "I think I'm a little nervous."

"Mm, you don't say?" You playfully hum. "I don't really see why though, it's not like either of us have never been to a party before."

"Yeah I know." He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and grabs the keys, then opens the front door for you. "I guess nervous isn't the right word. I'm more giddy."

"Giddy?" You inquire as he walks out the door after you and locks it behind him.

"Excited. Sure it isn't either of our first time but it is our first time together, and I get excited about every first with you." He grabs your hand and begins walking you to the car. "Even the small ones."

His blunt yet sweet response has you momentarily caught off guard but you squeeze his hand and try to reply back honestly despite your blush. "I feel the same, I can't wait to have even more with you."

As you walk into the party Seungmin immediately holds out his arm towards you, and knowing it'll make him happy you hold it immediately. The smile he gives you is so sweet and loving that you almost melt, but you manage to keep it together as he leads you to a small group of his friends.

It's then that Seungmin makes it abundantly clear he really did not come for the party. He makes the greetings really quick and the two of you chat with some of his friends for only a few minutes before he's guiding you over to where the drinks are. He pours one himself and takes the smallest sip before handing it to you.

He doesn't pour a second one and simply begins guiding you back to the main room. You glance back at the area with the drink counter in confusion and he laughs before reminding you "I'm driving remember? I just wanted to make sure your drink was safe."

"Oh..." You can feel your face heat up and you take a sip to try and hide it. "Thank you." He only nods in response.

For a few minutes the two of you stand there being wallflowers, simply people watching the party guests in a comfortable silence. "This is nice, I'd do this again."

You lean your head on his shoulder, "We haven't even done anything yet."

You spot some couples grinding on the dance floor and quickly avert your gaze back to your boyfriend. "Sure, but I'm at a party with my girlfriend." His smile is filled with pure glee, a shining beacon of love entirely directed at you.

You laugh in response. "You hate parties, I was really shocked you even asked me to come. I'm starting to think you'd be happy in a dump site if it meant you got to be with your girlfriend."

He chuckles but nods anyway. "I'm happy anywhere if you're there."

At that you roll your eyes, by now you've finished your drink and you opt to set it on the counter. Seungmin goes to grab with a bit of panic in his movements but you hold up a hand to stop him and then grab his hand with the other. You're not having another drink anyway.

"Dance with me?" You ask softly, trying not to say it in a tone that makes him feel like he has to.

Not that you need to worry about that, because to your surprise your doting boyfriend lights up at the suggestion. "Yeah? I wanted to ask myself but I didn't think you'd be up for it and I didn't wanna pressure you."

"I'm not much of a dancer but you and I have never danced together." Seungmin seems to come to the same realization as you then, and he bounces slightly in excitement. "Another first for us."

"I'll make it a good one." He assures, guiding you across the dance floor to a relatively unoccupied section. One of his hands slowly wraps around your waist and the other continues holding your hand. He looks down at your feet and guides you to step in time with him. The movements are awkward, after several moments you trip and the two of you burst into laughter.

Instead of proceeding with the awkward stepping he wraps both arms around your middle and lifts you into the air. He spins around with a wide grin and keeps you in his arms as he sets you back down, this time with your feet atop his own so that his steps are yours. You're so close your chests are pushed up against each other and Seungmin looks at you like you are the only thing in the entire room.

Your arms naturally wrap around his neck and he begins moving side to side with you embraced tightly in his arms. You take a cursory look around you and see that a few people are looking at the two of you funny but you pay them no mind and look back at your boyfriend. His eyes never stray, he takes in your every change of expression as though he may miss something precious if he doesn't.

It feels as though the two of you are in your own little world, separated from everyone else. He holds you tightly for the majority of the duration of the song, dancing slowly as he bears the weight of your body on his feet. You wonder if they hurt by now and step off, and just as you do the music picks up a little and Seungmin grasps your hand with the gentleness and grace of a man who does not belong in the era you live. You find yourself melting a little as he guides you to twirl and pulls you back into his chest.

He dips you down like you've seen in movies and it makes you feel like a princess. It's not very fitting, but for this moment you can let yourself enjoy it without care. You even find yourself imagining another life in which Seungmin is your prince. He'd suit the role quite well.

As he guides you back to stand there is an affection, a heat, to his eyes that deepens as he pulls you near. It's unlike him, he's never been one for public affection, but suddenly he's leaning in with a look of desire that is enough to shake you to your core. It fills you with an almost unnerving excitement.

The half of you with far better judgement puts a hand to his chest, an aim to stop him knowing he will be embarrassed about it later. The other half wins however, and the hand meant to stop him instead curls into the fabric of his button up shirt pulling him in closer. His lips meet yours in a kiss dreams are made of, one you won't be forgetting any time soon. It should feel embarrassing, but the kiss steals your attention like no other and you find yourself not caring if others are watching. In the end all they'll see is how lucky you are anyway.

The song comes to an end, the music fading. And with it you know the moment, no matter how beautiful, must come to an end too. You reluctantly pull away first, a pain stinging your chest at how Seungmin unconsciously chases you for a moment before coming to his senses. As he pulls back a beautiful shade of red is visible only to you in the dim lighting and you press a kiss to his cheek, allowing yourself but one more moment of indulgence.

You find yourself a little sad that the moment is over, and your face must have shown it because Seungmin immediately seems to pick up on it. He grabs your hand and sends you a reassuring smile as he gently squeezes your hand in his own. It tells you that he feels the same. It tells you that even though the moment is over there is no need to be sad because being with Seungmin means there will always be more of these moments. It reminds you that the downtimes are what make those moments special.

Seungmin just begins to walk you off the dance floor when someone calls to him from nearby. Only a few seconds later a shorter man comes jogging over. He's got a few tattoos, cute chubby cheeks, fluffy hair that no doubt is constantly getting in his eyes, and a woman's blue purse on his arm that clashes hard with his purple attire. There's also an oddly placed pink cat clip in his hair. It makes you wonder if it's there because he is a father, someone pulled a prank on him and he just hasn't noticed, or he just has terrible fashion.

Regardless just looking at him is enough to tell you he's another one of Seungmin's friends, even though you've never seen him before. He comes right up to Seungmin and immediately starts talking. "Hey Seungmin, this the girl you're always talkin' about?" His way of speaking is a bit awkward, but kind, and so you smile at him.

He looks you over and his eyes widen in what you can only assume is bewilderment at your hair and you immediately feel awkward. However, the man continues to surprise you and instead of pointing out its childish appearance exclaims "Woah nice hair!" He sounds like a typical college skateboarder as he says it and it makes you laugh, you should have seen that coming.

You look back over to Seungmin and catch him immediately beaming, though he quickly covers it up with a cough and a hand to his mouth upon realizing he's still in public. "Yeah, did a pretty good job didn't I?" His tone is smug, filled with pride and accomplishment. You find yourself falling even more in love as you roll your eyes at him.

His friend seems pretty shocked at what he said, though you struggle to see how it might be surprising. "Holy shit you did this?" He emphasizes it like it's completely absurd that Seungmin would be able to accomplish such a hairstyle, which is totally fair all things considered but this hairstyle is a total mess. Loving it anyway doesn't make you blind to that fact.

Despite this you don't chime in, Seungmin nods and smiles at you like you're his very own work of art and that's enough to remind you that it doesn't matter what hairstyle it is, Seungmin did it for you and that makes it a masterpiece. Any shame you could have felt fades at that thought. 

The friend continues in his fanatic rant of your hair, "Damn you've gotta show me how you did it. My girlfriend never lets me do her hair but man I'd love to see her with that look, she'd be so cute. Here let's take a selfie maybe it'll convince her when she sees how good it looks!"

The man pulls out his phone and worms his way between the two of you like a fan at a convention. You already know before he takes it that the photo will be a disaster. The man seems a little uncoordinated (and maybe a little drunk) and his hand grabs Seungmin's waist to hold him from sprinting away as he snaps the picture. You can't stop yourself from laughing the entire time because it is all so ridiculous, there is literally no way the woman is going to want this hairstyle and it's too funny that he genuinely seems to think his plan will work.

Not that you have any plans to ruin their fun, the whole thing is just so sweet you can't bring yourself to. "Thanks dude, I'm gonna go show her right now. I was supposed to get her a drink like five minutes ago so I gotta go!" The man casually waves as he runs off, slinging what you can only presume is his girlfriend's purse over his shoulder with a naturalness that suggests he must carry it often after he slips his phone in it and it starts to fall off.

Seungmin laughs an airy, exasperated laugh and immediately goes to apologize, re-grasping the hand the silly man nudged apart with the photo. "Sorry about that airhead, he totally forgot to even introduce himself and he's already gotten all up in your bubble like that."

"It's fine, I gathered you guys were friends from the start. I'm sure he just has a lot on his mind, he seemed really nice." He relaxes at that. Though he made no effort to show it, it is clear to you that whoever the man is he is important to Seungmin and he'd secretly wanted you to like him. You smile and swing his hand a little, and he continues leading you off the dance floor.

You almost make it too, but just as you're about to reach your corner a woman steps in front of Seungmin and grabs the arm opposite to the one you are holding. You watch in shock as he immediately flinches and goes to pull his arm away but she clings, his face pulling into a grimace as her nails dig into his skin. "Heyyy~! I've been watching you for a while now and think you're real cute. If you come home with me I can show you a really good time." She runs her claws up his arm and you internally seethe at her audacity, but you want to give Seungmin a chance to stand up for himself first.

"I'm not interested and I very clearly have a girlfriend. Get off." Seungmin's hand leaves your own to push her gently away, not wanting to hurt her, but she doesn't really budge. You can feel Seungmin's mood souring as you watch and you opt to give her thirty more seconds to release his arm and accept his rejection.

She doesn't, instead pressing her chest against his arm and whining like a petulant child. "Come onnn, you'd be way better off with me than this chick. I mean look at her she can't even style her hair right! She looks like someone you'd find digging in trashcans at night. It should be a crime she even left the house like this let alone going to a party."

Seungmin deflates, confused, and it's clear that he wasn't expecting her to react that way and doesn't know what to do. That pisses you off, and so you lash out a little. "That's enough, get lost." You yank her away from Seungmin by the arm before continuing. "If he wanted me to look differently he wouldn't have styled me so pretty, take your jealous ass and plop it on someone who consents to it you leach."

The girl scoffs, embarrassed, and flips you off before sauntering away and up to a dark haired man with eyes that twinkle like stars in the dark lighting. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, looking about as bored as a man can possibly be at a party. He doesn't look at her as she walks up to him, his eyes trained on a random spot in the room and an air of complete disinterest about him that even makes you shiver. His shirt is red, shiny and breathable silk fabric and low-cut, tucked into tight heavily flattering black jeans. A full course meal, really. Though far too much for you, and not particularly your type. 

Much to both your and Seungmin's surprise, who visibly jerks and pulls you against him, as soon as the woman brushes her hand seductively up the man's arm he lets out the most cat like scream you've ever heard out of a man and jumps away like she just burned him.

Immediately, a rather muscular man comes running over from seemingly thin air. He is familiar, one of Seungmin's friends you met at the start of the party. His name's Chan, the one who owns the house. He's in a white fitted tank and some loose jeans, a low hanging necklace bounces on his chest as he runs over and his face holds the expression of a mother who cannot find her child. "What the fuck is going on?!"

The cat man isn't the one to respond. Instead his friends, a taller one with a buzzcut and another with star-like freckles littered across his face respond in his place. "This girl just walked up to him and started touching him." The tall one starts, a menacing glare directed at the girl as he pulls the cat man away, who follows as if pulled by a leash, frantically rubbing his arm as if to try to get whatever germs the woman left off of him.

Chan furrows his brows, "Touching him?" He looks at the woman who instead latches on to him with pleading eyes as if that may save her from his wrath. He doesn't react. "Do you know her?"

Again the question is directed at the breath taking feline-esque man but he doesn't seem to notice they're even talking to him because he's too focused on his sleeve and his now heavy and seemingly annoyed breathing. Instead the freckled one responds, "Definitely not, I literally just saw her do it to Seungmin right in front of his girlfriend. She got pissy when y/n told her off so she came over here instead."

More friends of Seungmin's then, you figure. Given that he knows your name it only makes sense that he's told them about you. With the exception of the panicked cat man they all turn to look at you and you just smile and wave. Seungmin nods to them and pulls you closer.

Chan then sighs, and pries the woman off himself. "Get the hell out of my house. Right now." She looks at him in shock at the anger in his voice, unmoving. "You better figure out what 'right now' means before I call the cops." He finishes, the woman scoffs and runs out the door. Justice.

As soon as she's gone Seungmin leads you by the waist to his group of friends. "Thanks for getting her to leave." He says, looking at the exasperated Chan who'd got her to leave.

The man shakes his head, "No, I'm sorry she was here at all. Though I have no idea who invited her or how she got in." He sighs again and takes the hand of his dark haired friend who looks about ready to start hiding under furniture or spitefully pushing glasses off tables. "And the one time I get the two of you to come too, damnit." He says regretfully, you infer he is referring to both the owner of the hand he's holding and your boyfriend. Chan then waves at everyone and begins walking the aforementioned silk-shirted man who'd make Aphrodite herself jealous off to god knows where.

You and Seungmin continue the party with the two men who you eventually learn are named Hyunjin and Felix. However despite the three of your best efforts Seungmin's mood does not improve. And the fact that it is obvious to even them when your boyfriend is typically one to hide his emotions tells you it's time to leave.

You smile at the two of them meaningfully, and they seem to catch what you're trying to convey as they nod. You pull Seungmin aside by the arm gently and speak with a firm voice. "I think we should go home now." He looks sad at your words but nods anyway, silently saying goodbye and leading you to the car.

The car ride itself is quiet as well, and you allow your boyfriend his space and simply enjoy his presence. It gives you time to think about the night as a whole, you don't want it to be an unhappy memory just because one girl happened to decide she wanted to be one with the devil today.

Seungmin finds himself thinking he's failed you. He should have been better about defending himself and your relationship, instead of letting shock get the better of him. He let the night get ruined even after being so confident he'd make it perfect. He feels frustrated, and a little worried.

The moment you walk into the apartment Seungmin takes off your coat and shoes the same way he had put them on as you left, and then upon removing his own he lifts you up and carries you to the bedroom, setting you with a practiced care upon the bed. He then quickly pulls the covers over you and burrows himself under them beside you, hugging you to him with all he has.

"I'm so sorry y/n." He says as soon as he gets comfy, voice filled with sincerity. "It was such a nice evening and I really screwed it up."

You pause and look at him somewhat baffled, "What do you mean? What happened?" Obviously you know what happened, but you don't understand why he's apologizing. It's pretty obviously not his fault. Your voice conveys the shock you feel and he looks back at you in equal surprise.

"You..." He pauses as his brows furrow, "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" You're more confused now, what could he have done to have made you angry? If anything Seungmin's the one who should be mad, he was the one being harassed.

"I thought you were mad at me, that's why we went home." He reasons, taking one of your hands softly in his and enclosing it with his other.

"Uhh? No, we went home cause I thought you were uncomfortable." You counter firmly, not willing to let him stew in guilt any longer.

"Me?" His eyes widen, and he just stares at you like you said something completely absurd.

It makes you sigh, "Yes, you. You obviously didn't like that girl making moves on you. Not to mention she blatantly insulted the hairstyle you were so proud of. You seemed upset after that so I thought it better to leave. That's all."

"Oh..." He looks down at the blanket with a slightly disappointed expression.

"What's wrong? Talk to me." You lift his head back up by his chin to meet your eyes once more. "I really did think it was cute you know? It may not be what other people think is pretty but I was happy to go out being styled by you. Not only did I love the effort you put into it but it was special because it was you who did it."

"It isn't really that... though it did make me a little sad to hear someone say that, all that really matters is that you liked it. I'm just a little... well.. it's not that I wanted you to be jealous or anything, but I just kinda assumed you were when you stepped in." He sighs and shakes his head. "It's stupid but I feel a little sad knowing it didn't bother you at all."

"I never said it didn't bother me." You chide. "It's just that the idea of you being uncomfortable or upset is a lot more important to me than any feelings I may have felt. But even so you're right that I wasn't jealous."

"....Why?" He inquires softly.

You smile warmly at his sensitive side most people don't see, "Cause I know you. It's not as if seeing her do that made me happy, obviously it sucks seeing a girl hit on your boyfriend. Especially in such a rude way like she did. But at the end of the day I know how you feel and I know you're not the kind of guy to humor another woman when you're in a committed relationship. No matter what the circumstances are." You tighten your hold on his hand, "I wasn't jealous because I trust you and have faith in our relationship."

He relaxes finally and leans his head against yours, closing his eyes. "Thank you, I needed to hear that. You're perfect."

"You're welcome baby. For the record though, I'm no saint or anything I totally wanted to punch her in the face. It just wasn't because I was jealous, I was mad she couldn't respect you enough to drop it when you said no and were visibly uncomfortable." You mean it too, few things piss you off more than people disrespecting your boyfriend and his free will.

"No, you're definitely perfect." His smile is slightly mischievous as he pulls away, reaching up to pet your head like an animal a moment later. The clumsy up-do is in the way and he messes it up even more while petting you.

Rather than fixing it you simply leave it alone and roll your eyes playfully at his words. "Perfect for you, maybe."

He laughs both at the nest he's made on your head and at your playful flirting, but despite the playful atmosphere he's genuine in his reply. "I love you, I'll only ever have eyes for you." His hold tightens around your waist and a soft laugh tumbles past your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Your response is paired with looking into his eyes adoringly, "I already knew that, but it's comforting to hear you say it out loud." As soon as you end your sentence you playfully rub your nose back and forth against his like a bunny might, a habit you've picked up as a method of dealing with your overflowing affection for him.

He giggles cutely, blushing when he can't stop the sound from escaping. "God I love it when you do that."

"Mm?" You pull back only slightly to look at his sweet blushing face. "Why?"

"It's cute." He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, then leans down. And just before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, he whispers. "You're cute."

SKZ Works

Taglist: @my-neurodivergent-world @possum-playground @m-325

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 2)

summary: with the stakes of your relationship on the line, can rafe pull off the impossible to win you back?

word count: 6k 🫣

a/n: i love you all for the love on this lil' series!! ♡ toxic hockey rafe has me in a chokehold, so i promise this will not be the last you see of him!! apologies in advance, you will basically be attending a full hockey game here, i tried my best to explain all the lingo!

(part one)

The arena was packed even though you were there early, arriving alone because the other girlfriends and wives were always late, which simply wasn't in your DNA.

Your dad was a coach growing up, so you spent countless hours in empty rinks, arenas and stands; his rule for games was that you were in your seat early enough to see the starting lineup and the national anthem, no exceptions. Truth be told you liked being there when the lights went down, when the music amped up, you loved the anticipation of a new game.

You didn't mind sitting in the cold seat, hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that you got from the same concession stand every time. Hockey players were notoriously superstitious and by extension now you were too; just like they had their pregame rituals, so did you: same parking spot in the VIP lot, same hot chocolate from the same concession stand, same seat in section 106. You were in the lower bowl of the arena, a few rows back from the ice, facing the bench, nearly eye-level with the team.

You let your mind wander and tried not to think about Rafe but it was impossible, this place was Rafe to you; from the feeling of the cold air on your cheeks and fingers, to the damp and crisp smell of the ice and the sounds of the fans and ambient pregame music, all of it was a part of your love story, all of it was him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt like you thought it would, rather it felt like coming home after a semester at college, foreign but familiar.

You swiped at your phone, a nervous tick, even though you knew there wouldn't be anything there, which was a good thing, Rafe needed to be focused on the game, so you slid your phone into the cupholder next to you and resorted to tapping your heeled foot nervously.

The seats around you filled quickly and sure enough the other girlfriends and wives arrived just as the lights were dimming, offering cheek kisses and sympathetic hugs, well aware of your situation. Your best friend Morgan slid in next to you, pulling you into her side.

"It's selfish, but I'm glad you're here" she said, loud enough to be heard over the music and the announcer as her brown eyes traced your face sympathetically.

"I'm fine" you lied with a forced smile. Totally fine you thought. Not the love of my life who broke my heart then skated over it trying to win me back in the middle of the semifinals.

You decided to keep all of that to yourself, because truthfully it was ridiculous. It was juvenile. And it was never going to happen. And you didn't want it to happen anyway, you reassured yourself. Right?

You shook your head as you turned your attention to the starting lineup as Rafe's name boomed over the loudspeaker, the cheering noticeably louder from the crowd. He was a fan favorite, beloved for his fast and aggressive style of play. He wasn't afraid to two-hand someone when the referee wasn't looking, to stand up for his team, to battle for the puck. He was chippy, gritty, and he's on the first line tonight you thought to yourself, a spot reserved for the very best players, putting them in the best scoring position. But surely that's not in any way related to our deal... you mused.

You stood on your tiptoes to see him over the crowd in front of you. He was standing at center ice under the spotlight, his helmet tucked under his arm as he shuffled side to side on his skates, face unsmiling, focused as he looked between his feet and the empty ice in front of him. Your heart leapt uncontrollably at the sight of him; God he's beautiful you thought as your body hummed in recognition and longing, completely betraying you.

The tension and animosity in the arena were thick. You had faced the opposing team a few times in the regular season and it did not end well.

As in, you'd lost every time.

As in, Rafe left the last game with a five-minute major penalty and a black eye after an all-out brawl.

Now the fans were itching for a rematch and you were simply hoping for everyone to leave in one piece. That was the difference between being a fan and being someone who cared deeply for the boys on the ice, it wasn't a spectacle to you anymore. You watched as Rafe's wingers Nick and Andrew stood beside him, followed by two defensemen and your goalie as the national anthem wrapped up.

Everyone took their seats as the lights came back on and the music came on again too, urging the fans around you to cheer, and for you to resume the incessant tapping of your foot as you leaned forward in your seat, laser focused on the guys lining up for the faceoff.

"Girl, you good?" Morgan asked, taking in your nervous energy.

"Hmm?" you responded distractedly, barely glancing at her. "Yeah, yeah m'fine" you said.

You were always more into the game than the other girls, but that didn't account for the clear tension and anxiety rolling off of you in waves, nor the way you were immaculately dressed, which didn't go unnoticed either.

Rafe skated to center ice, equally sized with the opponent at faceoff as the referee dropped the puck. It had barely clattered to the ice before Rafe had gained possession, shouldering his opponent out of the way and barreling towards the offensive zone with a burst of energy like a gunshot that had the crowd almost immediately back on their feet, pulling you along with them.

"OK, I'm sorry, what is happening here?" Morgan said as she watched him.

He was a man possessed, head down, focused, ignoring his teammates as they called for the puck to set up a play, like he was trying to do it all himself. Like he was trying to score. He flipped the puck towards the goalie, who blocked it and possession shifted as he skated backwards on defense, your heart settling in your chest.

Rafe always played with intensity, but with the way he was playing now, he wouldn't make it through the first period. You thought there would be a reprieve on defense, but he was diving for the puck, playing to steal rather than defending his zone. He looked like a maniac.

Until it worked.

The crowd was back on their feet as he and Nick had a breakaway two-on-one, both of them racing towards the net together with only one defender standing between them and the goalie, the rest of their teammates striding to catch up with them. Nick called for the puck, slapping his stick on the ice, but Rafe deked the defender, faking him out before approaching the goalie and tipping the puck into the small pocket over his shoulder, swishing it effortlessly into the net.

The arena erupted as the goal horn blared and you found yourself jumping up and down, overcome with excitement and emotion. You could physically feel your heart beating. This is totally normal you thought. It's totally fine to score a goal in the first two minutes of the game, on his first shift, against the toughest team in the league.

You watched players pile on him in celebration before they all skated back to the bench, bumping fists with their team before taking a seat on the bench. Your eyes were glued to him, and his were on the jumbotron above center ice, watching his own replay before the coach approached him, grasping his shoulder angrily, and you could imagine why. He had been reckless, he had been lucky. Rafe nodded, but ultimately shook him off and refocused on the resumed play. Players zoomed in front of you and your eyes zipped to follow them before you glanced ever so briefly back at Rafe, who was unmistakably looking at you and smiling.

You swallowed to hide the emotions on your face, not giving him a single inch as you focused on the play.

You loved watching hockey, but it felt different when Rafe was on the ice, like he was a magnet, the only thing you could focus on, and his next shift was no different. He was playing like a madman and within seconds you could hear the coach shouting. Rafe turned up emptyhanded this time and the coach was visibly angry as Rafe skated to the bench, going so far as to yell back at him, which had you holding your breath; you had never seen him do that before.

Nick reached for Rafe's shoulder to calm him down and then they started bickering back and forth. Your attention was now split between the two of them and the action on the ice when you saw Nick physically rear back at something Rafe had said, the motion grabbing your full focus. Nick covered his face with his gloved hands, looking back at Rafe and then repeating the motion before he glanced up at the stands, at you, and shook his head, resigned. Were they talking about you!?! you thought. Had Rafe just told him what's going on?

You were so caught up that you missed the play as the other team scored. The game was tied 1-1. The arena echoed with boos as their bench erupted in cheers. You looked up at the clock: 2 minutes left in the first period.

Rafe and Nick got onto the ice for their last shift and the second the puck dropped, they were off as a duo, Nick's intensity now matching Rafe's own; they were bodying guys, tag-teaming as they raced into the offensive zone. Nick had the puck and passed to Rafe, and almost immediately Rafe was cornered by two extremely large defensemen who pinned him to the boards as they tried to steal the puck. But he wouldn't relent, throwing his elbows and trying to wiggle free, desperate and angry as the buzzer sounded for the end of the period.

And yet they didn't let him go. The crowd started shouting and everyone was on their feet as Rafe dropped his stick, turned and grabbed them both by the front of their jerseys, shoving them as the benches emptied and other players joined in, piling on top of one another until you lost sight of Rafe in a mess of limbs, equipment and jerseys. You were craning to see over the ecstatic fans, egging on the fight as the referees raced to break it up, pulling bodies off of one another until they reached Rafe.

His helmet had come off and as the referees skated him towards the locker room, he was shouting at the opposing team who skated after him, riling each other up before he yanked himself out of the ref's grasp and marched off the ice through the tunnel.

Period 1: Game Tied. 1-1.

You let out a deep sigh before collapsing back in your seat. You took a shaky inhale before exhaling and you felt a set of eyes on you.

You turned to see Morgan looking at you with an eyebrow arched.

"You're really going to sit here and act like you don't know what's going on? I know that boy texts you his every thought."

You opened your mouth, an excuse, a lie ready before she interrupted you.

"-- And I KNOW you didn't block him like you said you were going to, so don't try me. What the hell is going on?"

You bit your lip at that, glancing between her and the ice where the zamboni was running clean lines across the cold surface.

You gave a halfhearted shrug, "You know how much he wants to win, how much this means to him."

She doubled down her glare.

You sighed, avoiding her gaze before looking back to her.

"I made a deal with him" you nearly whispered.

A few of the other girls snuck by you both, causing you to shift in your seats as she leaned in and whisper-shouted at you:

"I'm sorry what!"

"If he scores four goals tonight, I said I'd get back together with him."

"You're joking" she said flatly. "Please tell me you're joking."

You pursed your lips with a small shake of your head.

"The two of you" she said as she let out an exasperated laugh. "Unbelievable. You can't stay away from each other and yet you’re willing to bet the stakes of your relationship on a game. I can't" she said, throwing her hands up in defeat.

She paused, getting serious for a moment.

"Are you sure you even want to get back with him, is that really such a good idea hun?"

"Morgan, he's never going to score four goals, it's like, impossible."

"Are you watching the same game I am?" she said emphatically. "Cause your mans sure is gonna try and you better ask yourself what you're going to do if he does."

There was a whisper of truth to what she was saying. It was probably impossible, but not completely out of reach. And what would you do? Your heart trilled. You would be ecstatic the devil on your shoulder said. You would be screwed said the angel.

Your phone buzzed in the cupholder next to you and swiped it open.

You grasped at your phone. Rafe never had his phone between periods, none of the players did, it was basically sacrilegious. They had just enough time to get treatment, catch their breath, hydrate and listen to their coach and he was on his phone!? You put yours down and tried to rearrange the smile creeping onto your face as you saw the teams rejoining the ice for the second period.

Just like before, Rafe was off like a rocket, but the other team was on to him this time, doubling his defensive coverage, making it nearly impossible for him to skate, let alone make a play. He had put a target on his back with the fight at the end of the first period, so even when he didn't have the puck, you could see the other players go after him, a stick in his skates, a slash at his side, heads turning to chirp at him as they lined up for faceoffs. But he didn't slow down for a moment, battling twice as hard now, coming back to the bench after each shift uncharacteristically exhausted, heaving with his elbows on his knees.

You watched him and felt overcome with emotions as the realization hit you: Rafe wasn't good at expressing himself, he wasn't a 'feelings' person, he didn't always know what to say, which is why sometimes words came better to him over texts when he had more time to think about it. But hockey? Hockey was his language. He couldn't tell you how sorry he was, how much he wanted to fight for this, but he could show you. He could play for you, he was playing for you, putting his body on the line, trying his all-out hardest, not a single person in the arena could deny that as they watched him tonight. He wanted this. Badly. Which meant he wanted you, badly. You felt a flush of warmth in your cheeks that had nothing to do with your lukewarm hot chocolate as you watched him slide up the bench for his next shift.

You looked up at the jumbotron. There were only 12 minutes left in the second period, and the game was still tied at 1-1.

What were you going to do if he scored four goals?

What were you going to do if he didn't? felt like the more pressing question. He was running out of time. If something didn't happen now, he would have one period left to score 3 goals, and that was simply not going to happen. I shouldn't have made the number so high you thought guiltily.

Your eyes glanced back to the ice as he clambered over the boards in the midst of a shift change. He was skating methodically, not slower, but maybe more strategically and you were sure his energy was waning even if it didn't look like it.

Suddenly, Nick picked the puck off an opponent and Rafe raced to skate with him, crossing into the offensive zone with several of their teammates. Nick had a wide open shot, and he brought his stick back for a slapshot before turning at the very last moment and passing to Rafe who had positioned himself near the goalie. The puck banked off his stick and ricocheted into the goal.

You were on your feet again, jumping up and down in Morgan's arms as the boys piled onto each other. The crowd was alive again as the team took a 2-1 lead, 5 minutes left now in the second period.

Morgan looked at you, shaking her head before shouting something you couldn't hear over the crowd. You shook your head back before she leaned in closer.

"Is Nick in on this shit?" she yelled.

You looked at her, confused.

"Why else wouldn't he take that shot? It was wide open."

The idea of Rafe recruiting his best friend and linemate into this made you lightheaded and giddy. As you looked back at the bench, the two of them were shoulder to shoulder, looking right at you and Nick waved, a goofy little smile on his face for the briefest of seconds before his attention returned to the game.

Period 2: Eagles winning. 2-1.

The period ended and you spent the last intermission glued to your seat as everyone around you got up to get food and drinks, your mind spinning.

One period. Twenty minutes left for Rafe to score 2 goals. It was still nearly impossible, but didn't feel as insurmountable as before and you still weren't sure what you wanted the outcome to be. You were staring into middle space, questioning your entire relationship when your phone buzzed again in your cupholder. You swiped it open.

Two hearts.

Two goals.

You smiled widely, rolling your eyes before giggling like a little girl. You wanted to respond, and your fingers lingered over your screen, but he still had no business being on his phone, and what could you possibly say anyway?? "Nevermind!! Let's get back together despite all the shit you put me through!"

Ugh.

The third period was simultaneously the slowest and quickest 20 minutes of your life.

Rafe was battling, and the other team battled back, getting chippier and chippier as the teams exchanged penalties and breakaways, but the score stayed the same. You could feel the crowd's excitement at the prospect of scraping through this game with a one-goal lead; a good enough result to make them happy, but you couldn't deny the disappointment you felt as you were playing an entirely different game.

As time whittled down you felt yourself getting emotional as the odds were stacked against Rafe, stacked against both of you. Ten minutes. Eight. Five. Three. You could feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes as your foot continued to tap, eyes glancing anxiously between Rafe, the bench, the players and the jumbotron that counted down the time unceasingly.

Morgan reached for you, winding her arm around yours and grabbing your hand, a sad smile on her lips. You both knew this wasn't going to happen. There was just no way. You could sense that Rafe could feel it too, he was getting more and more desperate, scrambling after the puck, making sloppy mistakes that made you feel guilty, the most so when the other team scored… tying the game.

And then what felt like the final twist of the knife: with less than 1 minute left, they scored again, capitalizing on the dashed morale of the Eagles to take the lead 3-2. It was like someone sucked the air out of the arena. Rafe was on the ice, on his knees and all of the players looked so defeated.

Fuck fuck fuck was all you could think as they regrouped with their coach to come up with their last play, their last chance to tie the game. You leaned forward, desperately trying to read lips as if you could somehow decipher the plan. The ref blew the whistle and the coach sent guys on the ice, leaving Rafe behind, and your stomach dropped: he wasn't even going to get a chance.

Rafe argued and you could see him yelling and gesturing wildly as the coach yelled back. The ref blew the whistle again and you knew they were dangerously close to getting a delay of game penalty. A ripple of confusion went through the crowd as they watched the argument unfold and you wished you could sink into your seat and disappear.

The coach shouted something that seemed final before Rafe took one look at him, ignored him and skated onto the ice, swapping with Nick who slid onto the bench, head bowed, ashamed, as the coach berated him.

At this point, Rafe had been on the ice way longer than he should have, he was making mistakes, and now he was putting his career, his contract on the line as he stepped up to take the faceoff.

The puck dropped and the battle ensued as the teams fought back and forth. Their team took a shot on goal that had you holding your breath as the time ticked down.

There were less than 20 seconds left as the puck rebounded towards Rafe and he guided it with his stick, taking off down the ice faster than you'd ever seen him skate; in just three strides he had nearly covered the length of the rink, leaving all of the other players trailing behind him as he squared off with the goalie.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" the crowd shouted.

You were on your feet, grasping Morgan's arm for dear life, certain you were leaving a mark as you continued to hold your breath.

Rafe shot the puck and it hit the goalie's leg pad, but bounded right back to him.

"Three! Two!"

He shot again and the goalie fell forward, but the crowd behind the goalie erupted and the official lit the lamp behind the goal - he had scored.

The puck had slid between the goalie's legs and Rafe exploded with energy, ripping down the ice and jumping into the glass in front of you as his team piled on top of him and the crowd went ballistic as fans threw their hats onto the ice to celebrate his hat trick - three goals scored.

You were jumping and screaming with the other girls, a few tears escaping your eyes in relief and excitement, overwhelmed at the entire situation.

Three goals.

He'd scored three damn goals, a new career record for him. And now they were in overtime.

Period 3: Game tied 3-3. End of regulation play.

"Wait! Wait! What the hell happens now!?" Morgan asked breathless, looking to you as the only girl that knew a thing about the rules.

"Overtime" you huffed, trying to calm yourself. "Another 20 minutes, first team to score wins."

"Was that part of the deal?" she asked.

"It wasn't not part of the deal?" you said. "We didn't really get into specifics" you laughed, rolling your eyes.

You glanced at the bench as both teams hydrated and listened to the coaches. Rafe's teammates were still all over him, smacking his helmet, arms slung around him. The coach said something to him and he put his hands up in surrender as he sat on the bench and his teammates took the ice.

Your eyes were glued to Rafe but unlike before his didn't meet yours and for a second, you didn't know how to take that. You craved that acknowledgement from him, but you also recognized the look on his face; he was totally 100% focused, eyes fixed on the action on the ice. He wants to win you thought. Or maybe his focus was for something else.

Within a few minutes, his line was up and they jumped on the ice. He was playing smart now, conservative, concentrated and gathered, a stark difference from before. He was strong on defense, backing his team up as they played perfectly off of each other, which paid off when Nick stole the puck and shouted as he passed the puck up the boards to Rafe who sprinted after it, just a stride in front of a defender.

"Oh my god" you heard Morgan mutter as everyone stood to their feet and even though the roar of the crowd was deafening, you swore you could hear every scrape of Rafe's skate against the ice, the clatter of the puck as the play moved in slow motion to the beat of your heart.

Another stride and Rafe was alone in the offensive zone, the defender just a hair behind him.

Was this really happening? Was he about to end the game, to score a fourth goal?

Another stride and he was eyeing the goalie, lining up his shot.

He maneuvered his stick and just as he was about to shoot, the defender dove, thrusting his stick in Rafe's path, causing them both to tumble onto the ice and into the goalie, the puck sliding away, abandoned as the refs blew their whistles. No goal.

Rafe was down for only a second before he stood up, grabbed his stick and swung it with full force, snapping it in half over the boards in front of him in rage and frustration, causing the fans behind the glass to jump and spill their beer on each other.

Two of the refs were frantically skating towards him, waving their arms and blowing their whistles, but your eyes drifted to the head referee who was standing next to the officials box, watching a small computer screen, a replay. Almost immediately he nodded, handed back the screen and raised his fisted hands over his head and crossed them and you let out an uncontrollable shout of excitement as you grabbed for Morgan.

"What! Oh my god! What is going on!!?" she shouted back, and all you could do was laugh and shout as you jumped up and down and pointed to the referee.

"You are the ONLY ONE HERE who knows what that means!" she shouted. "What does it mean!!!?"

"A PENALTY SHOT!" you shouted back.

Your eyes shot back to Rafe who had clocked the same thing and was skating back to the bench. The equipment manager handed him a new stick and now the arena was abuzz with the same information as the announcer explained that Rafe would have the chance to score one on one against the goalie, with all of the other players off the ice. A golden opportunity.

The fans were ballistic. You could barely hear yourself think, could barely process your emotions as you struggled onto your tiptoes again to see over the raised hands and jumping fans as Rafe skated methodically to center ice, alone.

He skated back and forth, side to side with crisp turns like a predatory shark before he stopped at center ice, hands on his stick on his knees, eyeing the goalie before his head turned slowly and he looked right at you. Even amidst the chaos, you could see his signature smirk before he refocused and gathered the puck in his stick.

He was going to score.

You just knew it. You knew by the look on his face, by the stride of his skates, by the confidence in his gait.

"He's going to score" you said out loud, quietly, to yourself, a revelation before you turned to Morgan who was solely focused on the scene unfolding on the ice. You tugged on her sleeve, desperate for her to understand the weight of what you had just said.

"He's going to score, Morgan" you said, louder, matter-of-factly.

"Well SHIT I hope so!!!!" she shouted back without looking at you, now completely wrapped up in the game.

She didn't understand.

He was going to score.

And that meant he was going to be yours again.

Your eyes found the ice and you watched as he approached the goalie, goading him out of the goal, faking him out before wrapping the puck around his leg and tipping it upward.

The goalie dove backwards at the last minute and 15,000 fans held their breath as his gloved hand extended, brushing the edge of the puck, causing it to wobble, but without enough force to change the course of fate as the puck swooshed into the net.

The goal lamp lit up.

The goal horn sounded.

And if you thought the arena was loud before, it reached a new level as fans screamed, shouted, jumped up and down and embraced each other.

You felt realization ripple over you, your gaze stuck on the ice. Stuck on the image of the goalie flat on his back, defeated. Stuck to Rafe who had ripped his helmet off, discarded as he let out a roar of victory before getting bombarded by his teammates who piled on him in celebration.

End of OT. Eagles win 4-3.

Morgan yanked you into her by your shoulders, hugging you and jumping up and down, but an unexplainable calm had settled over you, gluing your feet to the ground.

You should be excited, you were, but instead you felt like you were having an out-of-body experience. What the hell had just happened? Rafe had scored four goals, had led his team to the finals. Had he done it for himself? Of course. But wasn't a part of it for you too?

You turned and looked back at the ice, desperate to catch his eye, to talk to him, to figure this out as chaos rained around you. The players skated to center ice with their sticks raised to salute the fans before skating away, Rafe leading them quickly into the tunnel without so much as a look at you. Not even a cheeky smile or a blown kiss, which you used to get after every game. What the fuck.

Morgan shook your shoulder.

"Babes, now what?!" she asked, excited, curious, anxious.

You looked at her, lost. You had no idea. Did you text him? Were you just back together again? How did this work?

The lights dimmed as the announcer drew the crowd back in to introduce the three stars of the game - recognizing the three standout players of the night. The third star was your goalie, who stopped an unimaginable number of shots and you cheered for him as he skated solo onto the ice in a spotlight, taking a spin around the ice before tossing a t-shirt into the crowd to an excited fan.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, your mind incapable of thinking of anything but Rafe. You grabbed your phone. No new texts. The players were all in the locker room by now. Sure, they were partying and celebrating, but if he had time to text you in the middle of the game, couldn't he text you now??

Nick was the second star of the game and you glanced up from your phone to see him doing the familiar skate around the ice, waving to Morgan who blew him a kiss back, but you glanced back at your phone, willing a text to appear, opening and closing your texts, refreshing the app, messing with your wifi. Surely it was the internet connection you thought, now desperate to hear from him.

"Come on Cameron" you murmured to yourself.

"Okay, what is he doing?" you heard Morgan laugh and you looked down to the ice to see Nick still circling around, backwards, forwards, pumping up the crowd who roared around him as he gathered a t-shirt to throw. You were thrilled for him, really, but you resumed your focus on your phone. Should I turn it off and turn it back on again? you thought.

The lights dimmed further and the deep voice of the announcer reverberated, "Ladies and gentlemen, your first star of the game, with an unprecedented four goals, including your game winner--"

"Uhhh YN" you heard Morgan say.

But you were too distracted, too afraid to look away from your phone in case you missed a text coming through.

"--Rafe Cameron!!!" the announcer said, the spotlight shining on the tunnel, and your eyes shot up at the sound of his name, only to find the ice empty.

You felt Morgan tug harshly on your sleeve and when you finally looked back to her your stomach barrel-rolled and your heart shot into your throat.

Standing unmistakably next to her in the aisle was Rafe, still fully suited in his gear and pads, towering over everyone like a giant, his skates traded for his training shoes. Pieces of his hair were clinging to his forehead and his face was rosy with exertion, sweat dripping down his temple in rivulets.

He was smiling confidently at you, and unlike the last time you had seen him in your car, his eyes were unwavering and transfixed on yours, even when the fans around you turned around and noticed he was there, even when phones were whipped out and shouts and cheers went up, he ignored them; he only had eyes for you.

"How--" you started to say, your phone completely forgotten as he started to nudge his way past the people at the end of your row to walk fully into the seats next to you.

"Ohmygod, ohymgod" Morgan was saying as she clambered out of the way of his bulky frame and suddenly he was towering in front of you.

He was breathing heavily; with how quickly he made it up here it was no wonder he had been sprinting off the ice and into the tunnel. His face searched yours, eyes twinkling, flitting over your lips, searching for a sign, a signal, a hint of how you were feeling. And you weren't sure you could have expressed it even if you could form words.

He leaned down next to your ear and you could feel the sweat and the heat radiating off of him.

"That was four" he said, breathless and husky before pulling back, but not as far as before, his nose brushing yours.

The spotlight was sweeping the empty ice, looking for him as the announcer tried awkwardly to fill the air time, wondering where he was.

All you could do was meet his gaze, staring into his crystal blue eyes.

And all you could see was your Rafe.

Sure, he had his issues, but you knew he was sincere, you knew he was trying and you acknowledged that despite everything he was probably the love of your life.

"We didn't agree on overtime goals" you said loudly back at him to be heard over the crowd.

For a moment you could see fear, panic and a hint of hurt cross his face; if you didn't know him as well as you did you wouldn't have seen it, it was nearly indetectable. But he took one look at your sly smile, your blushing cheeks, your eyes rimmed with tears.

"C'mere" he said roughly, ignoring you as his warm and sweaty hands that smelled unmistakably like his gloves grabbed your face and pulled you towards him as his lips enveloped yours, engulfing you, bold, brazen and completely unabashed as he full on made out with you, chaotically, his tongue slipping into your mouth, even when you tried to wiggle away, more out of a sense of decorum than anything as a feeling seeped through every inch of you like he was mending every wound in your body.

He was sweating all over you at this point, but you didn't care. You could feel it dripping on you. You could taste it in his kiss, mixed with the tang of yellow gatorade and your fingers grasped for purchase on his jersey as you tried to balance yourself against the force of him pressing into you.

The crowd around you erupted, as the flash of pictures being taken lit the two of you. He was unrelenting and you could feel yourself flushing as much from his attention as from the heat radiating off of him. It definitely went on longer than it should have, longer than any right-minded couple would have made out in front of thousands of fans before he paused just long enough, his lips still hovering on yours and said through a growl, "You're mine, baby."

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444, @rafescurtainbangz, @romiiq, @dkjndfnmdfmdmnd, @warriorblu, @ietss, @tiaamberxx, @zyafics, @maybankslover, @saintchxx4, @akirkland, @cameronspecial, @f4ll-for-you, @diduzzula, @user123453226780536, @zizuras, @imabigback, @rowans-posts, @mymultiveres, @drewsphswife, @fangirlwithlou

[chrysalind]

last chance

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader wc: 860 tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying

"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.

"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."

"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...

"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."

You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."

"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"

The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.

"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.

"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."

"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."

Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.

He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.

His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.

"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.

Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"

"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.

"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."

"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"

"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.

Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.

From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.

"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."

Your eyes flash up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He straightens up.

"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.

The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.

You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.

And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.

Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?

He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.

"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."

Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.

"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."

[nightshade962]

Late night ramble is like 1:00 a.m. for me I am tired but I can't get this off my mind

Of course it is dcxdp what else is new I'm still on that kick just during a bit more bat family in there lately but I'm still on that kick just kind of swapping between several other ones haven't touched really any other fandom as of lately so hyper fixation for the win man I guess anyway this one's kind of a play on one of the other ones I already posted the one about soulmates but this isn't a soulmate AU it's just kind of I want something sad I had a long day at work and I've been reading quite a bit of a sad bat family fix lately but like I said this one's quick so let's go

Okay so I kind of want it where Maybe Sam and Tucker aren't quite agreeing with how Danny is handling everything becoming ghost King and all that they're stressed about it I'm kind of blaming all their problems on Danny and he's at this point trying to like help them( once again I don't think they would actually do this but I kind of just want it) where I don't like a lot of teenagers do blame others it's never their fault type deal but this gets out of hand and they're just blaming Danny for absolutely every problem they have in their life while Danny is just trying to be a supportive friend even though they're not being supportive back eventually Danny has enough and let's say maybe in the last years of high school plus being ghost King he had more free time to get his grades up so he graduates early from high school just like a semester early thank you he worked his butt off for that jazz this is just so supportive of her baby brother well their parents don't even realize Danny even lives at home anymore and when they do they're not great if you know what I mean with jazz being gone for college in Gotham there's no buffer and Danny should get like a brunt of horribleness and once again I just want glad to be a creepy guy (don't get me wrong I do like those few fix that he actually gets Redemption Ark this just ain't one of them) so with him graduating early he actually just goes to Gotham to be with his sister and get away from his s*** life in Amity and he decides to apply for Gotham University he does get in but not until the fall semester so he and Jazz have an apartment and got them together jazz is more than happy to welcome her baby brother in her apartment

Let's say over the summer he decides to get a job at I know this is a cliche and a thing that happens a lot in this fandom but a cafe where I'm going to let you guys shoes like I said before in previous posts I hop between Tim X Danny and Danny X Jason you can choose or really any other pairing you really want glorious thing about fandom and fix you can read whatever you want but he meets one of the bad boys I'm going to go with Tim cuz I'm still kind of a on a kick of that one and they hit it off because they both have Unholy amount of caffeine in their drinks

And let's say they start dating pretty quickly not too seriously you know but by the time it's fall they're a little bit more serious and didn't actually starts going to college as well and let's say it's actually because of Bruce Jason Jazz and Danny all convinced him to go yes I'm going to have Jason starting on like online classes he doesn't feel quite comfortable enough yet to go in person so he's going to slowly like make his way up there Bruce is just happy to if his sons are going to college and actually Tim actually deciding to go encourages Jason a bit more as well I know Jason is like a really independent guy but I think he would be nervous after being Resurrected going back to school Bruce already helped him get his GED or full on diploma you can choose I like both

Let's say maybe Tucker and Sam who haven't spoken to Danny for like 8 months at this point if not more go to Gotham University to study whatever field you want maybe you can go with the certain kick that Amity Parker's need more ambient Ecto so they have to go to cities that have more of that and Gotham has a decent amount so good portion of Amity Parkers go to Gotham for college

They run into Danny maybe he's walking to a on-campus Cafe with Tim to get some in between Class coffee and getting to see each other and talk and just or just be in each other's presents cuz they're both quite busy Sam and Tucker try to go talk to him like nothing happened between them Danny is mad at them he is not forgiving him that easy he forget forgiving him for a while there but they kept hurting him and him being with jazz she actually helps him talk through it and make him realize that yeah we shouldn't be around each other at least for a while if ever again

So a few months go by and Sam and Tucker are getting fed up with Danny ignoring them walking away whenever he sees them and Tim glaring at them to eventually it comes to a head where they actually start arguing Tim's there unless they actually Jason and Jazz are there as well you could even have dick and Damien there if you want like maybe they were picking up their brothers or you maybe have dick dating jazz maybe if you want to do it that way that's how Tim and Danny meet whatever but they just come in hot at Denny just pissed off and Danny just snapped at them and goes I was there for you and all of your darkest times when you couldn't be there for me I would have lost my mind without my sister and they just get into a full on argument I want to say that jazz got Danny into some therapy with the help of the Wayne's Lake maybe Jazz was talking to dick or Tim that or even Jason that Danny needs more help than she can offer but they can't afford it so the bat boys go and talk to Bruce and Bruce was more than willing to help because let's say maybe he read the files of his mom being in Arkham( I think that's right I don't quite remember I can't remember if she's actually ever been in Arkham I thought she was locked up at some point and like an institution but I could be misremembering or just straight up fan on) but he helps them and gets them help so Danny starting to heal from the horrible life he had before well Sam and Tucker are just yelling Danny's actually keeping a pretty even tone you can tell he's getting worked up and he's getting upset but he's not yelling Jazz can't be more proud of him eventually Tim and Jason step in Danny is their friend and boyfriend respectively and defend them against these people eventually they walk away

Okay this was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be like I said though I am quite tired but I had to get this off my brain cuz it's been gnawing at me and so horrible grammar and pretty much zero punctuation but like I said it's 1:00 a.m. when I am doing this and I'll be honest I am using speech to text and I know this is real rambly and kind of all over the place I did warn you at top should not be new anyway feel free to add on if you wish

[anyarose011]

Such an Old Fashioned Word {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: The rest of your winter break is spent at Barton, though not completely uneventful. Last minute secrets are shared to ring out the new year, and all seems well for the next semester. Yet, even on the first day, that's not all true.

Part 10 of 10 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, unserious injury, mention of past child abuse, and the return of Teddy Kountze.

Welp, we've reached the end (of the movie) you guys. Don't worry, I'm making a small epilogue, but just wanted to give this first. Before it's officially over though, I just wanted to thank all of you SO much for all of your support. I am truly forever grateful for all of you guys' enthusiasm. Also, everybody say "Thank you, Anya" for putting the original Queen audio of "Under Pressure" when I was this 🤏close to making it the Aftersun version 🥰🥰

Word Count: 7.5k

The car ride back to Barton was mostly silent. Not a nasty, bitter, awkward silence; no, this was a mix of exhaustion, but also content. Even though it was just an hour and a half drive from Boston, your father and Mary still thought it was best to leave a little bit after dawn; that, and the hotel was kicking you out around that time.

You had no shame either as you laid sideways in the backseat, feet draped over Angus’ lap. He kept his hands glued to his side, but he didn’t look uncomfortable either. You know that there was a hint of it though; it’d be bad if there wasn’t as your father and his teacher drove the car.

It was December 28th when you had returned from your little ‘field trip’. Two more weeks until the spring semester started back at the school…there wasn’t much else to do. So, the five of you, now with Danny deciding to join more days than less, decided to make the most of it.

There were a few, eventful days; you and Angus decided to cook for everyone instead of having Mary do it one night.

(“Alright, a tablespoon of salt.” You poured it into the pot.

He was silent for an odd amount of time, before saying your name. “That was a cup.”)

Perhaps it wasn’t a smart idea to stay up until four in the morning, reading. You didn’t risk sneaking into Angus’ room at night after Boston, considering the conversation you both had to have with your father.

(It wasn’t the first day back in Barton, but the next. It was after lunch that you and Angus were simply sitting on opposite sides of the couch in the large study, reading separately. The door opened, and you both looked up to see your father, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen on a normal day.

“Are you alright, papa?” You sat up, asking him with a hint more affection.

He nodded. “Yes, I just wanted to speak to you both about something.”

You already knew what it was, yet you still hoped it wasn’t it. You and Angus leaned forward in anticipation

Your father took a deep breath. “I noticed that you both have become close over the winter break, especially after Boston…I feel as if I have t know if the two of you are-.”

“-Yes.” Angus nodded. “We’re…together.”

“Ah,” he nodded, exhaling.

“Is that alright?”

“Yes, it’s just,” your father huffed a laugh. “frankly, I didn’t think I’d have this conversation for quite some time.”

“Why,” you jested. “you thought I wasn’t desirable to boys my age?”

“No, you just knew your worth, and we both assumed no boy was capable of amounting to it.” He turned to Angus. “I don’t believe in miracles very often, but perhaps I will just this once. We would not be having this conversation a week ago. Yet, in this short amount of time, you have shown me that you are a respectful and selfless young man. If any one of my students had the privilege of courting my daughter, I’m glad it’s you.”

Angus smiled at the sentiment, no matter how strangely it was worded. “Thank you, Mr. Hunham.”

He nodded. “Now, I will say that there’s a matter of how physically affectionate you two are together-.”

“-Papa,” you stopped him. “out of the three of us in the room, you’re the last one to be scared of me getting pregnant.”

Angus and your father didn’t make a sound; they didn’t need to, their eyes said it all. Still, you said it without a hint of discomfort. Even if you felt it, you didn’t show it; it was a true statement. It was almost as if you would be dealing with the brunt of pregnancy, and Angus would face the other part of it.

“Well…” Your father cleared his throat. “I wasn’t going to say it outright, only allude. Still…just be respectful; in public and not.”

“Okay.” You audibly responded, while Angus kept his head down to hide the pinkness of his skin, nodding.

“Alright.” Your father sighed, then moved swiftly to exit the room. “It was lovely having this talk; one I will go and pretend we never had unless one of us brings it up.”

“Love you, dad.” You said once he left. When the door was shut, you glanced back at Angus. “You good?”

He pursed his lips. “Ask me in an hour.”)

The most notable thing to happen after that talk was New Years. You, Mary, and Angus, had prepared a feast for supper; Angus finally joined to cook simply because he didn’t trust you the last time you held a cooking utensil. Danny joined that night as well as all of you were in the teacher’s lounge, watching Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians, waiting for the ball to drop.

(“Man, I sure do wish we had some noisemakers.” Mary commented, sitting in between you and Angus.

“I’ve got one.” Angus pulled one out from his back pocket without missing a beat.

Danny huffed from beside you. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “found it.”

You and he went on another “adventure” through the tunnels, broke into the dormitories, and snooped around.

Your father shook his head, taking it. “Well, you’re not deploying that in here.”

“You know, you weren’t so uptight in Boston.” You teased, then turned to Danny. “As the head janitor-.”

“-I’m the only janitor.” He elbowed you.

“Where do you stand on indoor fireworks?”

“About as far away as I can.”

Mary nodded. “Very wise.”

The countdown on the TV began, and all of you stood up. To everyone’s concern though, you and Angus dashed behind the couch.

“What’re you doing?” Your father laughed.

You took the bowl of grapes off the table. “Tradition.”

It was something you yourself started when you were seven after befriending a girl from Puerto Rico in the second grade. You told your parents about it, and your mother took part happily; although, she had you eat half the grapes, and she’d eat the other half so you wouldn’t choke.

You brought it up to Angus one night, and he wanted to do it too. You didn’t even have to suggest it.

As both you and Angus crouched under the table, the three adults counted down in excitement, and you joined them.

“Happy New Year!” You all screamed, and after giving Angus a peck on the cheek, you started devouring the grapes. He soon followed.

It was clumsy, and as you both fought over a grape or two, you had to force yourself not to laugh as you simultaneously ate. Angus would sit up and hit his head on the table, and all you could do was smother your laughter and run your fingers over the spot in an effort to soothe him. You swallowed your last grape just as the clock hit 12:01.

“Shit!” Angus snickered, seeing that there were two more in the bowl.

“Damn.” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have two months of bad luck.”

“Is it January and February, or November and December?”

“I don’t think you get to choose.”

“Children.”

You and Angus perked your heads up at your father’s calling. He held the noisemaker high in his hand. “Would you like to light this sucker off in the kitchen, or outside?”

Angus grinned from ear to ear. “Considering it’s like minus ten outside…”

“The kitchen it is.” Mr. Hunham huffed.

“What?” Both Danny and Mary gasped.

You giggled, crawling out from under the table and helping Angus stand as well. Your father and boyfriend rushed to the kitchen like excited children, Angus holding the firecracker, and your father striking a match. You, Danny, and Mary simply stood outside of the kitchen in a mix of terror and amusement.

Once the noisemaker was bursting with light, Angus threw it down the end of the kitchen where there was nothing else in sight. You didn’t see the explosion but heard it for a second before then a slight ringing entering your ears.

There were three things you heard once your hearing returned: Uncontrollable laughter from everyone around you, Mary playfully scolding everyone, and the echoes of Auld Lang Syne from the TV.

You always thought nostalgia was only something you’d feel as an adult, remembering what it was like to be a child. You never thought you’d feel it all at once as it was happening to you.

It was a joyful day for the most part, but that moment had struck a strange feeling within you.

You told Angus about it that night before you went to bed, and he was honest with you; he hadn’t shared the same feeling, but could understand it.

He kissed you goodnight, and that was that.

You felt a little better.)

The only other interesting thing you did was invite Elise over to Barton on her last day before she’d go home for school.

(You, Elise, and Angus finished building a family of snowmen when you decided to scale up the hill of the chapel with your sleds. After going down a few times, Elise turned to you once you were all back up at the top.

“I dare you to stand while sledding down.” She smirked.

“Done.” Was all you said, setting your sled down.

Angus could only say your name before you took the dare. In short, you ended up falling halfway down, and rolled the rest of the way, twisting your ankle and gaining a fresh set of bruises.

It was actually quite funny the differing reactions in the two as they stood on either side of you, your arms draped around their shoulders.

“I give that an eight out of ten.” Elise teased.

“Why?” you grunted as you hobbled on your feet.

“You didn’t eat enough shit.”

“She’s eaten too much!” Angus stressed.

You cackled. “I did fall in some yellow snow. It was lemony.”

In all honesty, the earful your father gave you for being hurt was less than what Angus gave you for the joke you made).

Everyone except Mary hovered over you after that. Even though all you needed was to wear a brace and wrap your foot for a week, they acted as if you had that foot in the grave. Especially Angus, which actually surprised you.

Still, three days before the end of winter break, and one day before students could show up back on campus, you hobbled out of your bed.

It was half an hour before sunrise, and you had made it a last-minute goal to watch it with him. When winter break was over, you’d return back to the faculty housing; back to your own room which you appreciated, but you’d see Angus far less.

So, just like old times, you tiptoed into his room to wake him up.

Yet…he was awake; for the very first time, he was awake. You saw as how the light of the moon bled into the room, and you watched as he sat up, his knees to his chest, and rubbing his nose.

“Angus?” You whispered. He snapped his gaze over to you but didn’t flinch upon hearing your voice. As you got closer, you saw the unmistakable sight of tears upon his face. “Why are you crying?”

 He swallowed thickly. “I-I had a dream about my dad.”

Your face fell, and you sat beside him on the bed. “Bad?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It was good.”

Where Angus was confused at your feeling of bitter nostalgia on New Years, you were completely bewildered at that moment. Still, you did your best not to show it.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

He inhaled, trembling. “I just…it was weird, but it wasn’t? I was at home, I don’t know if I was ten, or seventeen, but I woke up and felt normal. I was in my childhood house, I went downstairs and saw he was reading the paper and-and my mom was making bread. I thought I woke up and the rest of my life had been a dream. I didn’t know what was real.”

Your heart crumbled at his recounting; not just from how he’d weep over something he described as good, but from it hitting too close to home.

“I had dreams like that.” You confessed in a whisper.

He dropped his gaze from yours, only to then lay fully down on the bed. You followed, draping an arm over him.

“He said sorry.” Angus said, not looking at you.

“For what?”

He didn’t respond right away. “He pushed me off the porch after when I was thirteen…I kind of deserved it, I was being a little shit. I’d gotten into a fight at school with this asshole kid who stole my backpack, and my dad was trying to talk to me about it. I yelled at him when trying to leave the house, and…yeah, he pushed me. He felt bad right away and patched me up; I just got a bruise and a scratch, it wasn’t bad. Mom found out and…we’d already known about his condition, but she called Pinehills as soon as she got home, and he was taken away that night.”

You wanted to say a lot. Say how it wasn’t his fault, how there was no excuse to push him when he was so much younger…but you couldn’t, you know it wouldn’t help. Instead, you brought your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek and forcing him to look at you.

“Do you want kids?”

He furrowed his brow. “I-I…what?”

So, you said it again. “Do you want kids when you grow up?”

“I…” he wiped his face. “I don’t even know what I want in the next year.”

“Would you ever push them?” He sighed your name, but you didn’t stop. “Even if they were being an asshole?”

He shook his head. “I know what you’re doing.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m serious-.”

“-So am I.”

Angus took a deep breath, leaning into your touch. “No. No I wouldn’t.”

You pulled him into you, and immediately his arms wrapped around your waist. He didn’t make a sound, but his body shook with repressed sobs. All you could do was run your fingers through his hair.

When all was said and done, he was the first to pull away from you, only to kiss you with a gentleness you hadn’t felt before from a man.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Smiling, you shook your head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Now, get up.”

He hummed, sitting up once you stood. “Why?”

You took his hand. “I wanna see the sunrise.”

“It’s too cold out-.”

“-I don’t care.”

“Your leg’s bad.”

“So, carry me.”

He snickered, getting out of bed and slipping his shoes and jacket on. He turned away from you, crouching down.

“Come on.”

You shook your head. “It’s actually not that bad, I was just kidding-.”

“-I’m not.”

So, you let him. Well, you both waited until you were outside to get on his back, then saying it was so you wouldn’t get your feet cold. He carried you through the snow for a few minutes until he stumbled, realizing he wasn’t as strong as his ego.

But you both sat at the top of the hill of the chapel, seldomly speaking and just waiting for the sun to rise up from the east. You’d never experienced a twilight so beautiful than in early January of 1971 at Barton. The shade of purple in the sky reflecting off the snow seemed to be more memorable than the sunrise itself.

Still, as the sun peeked up through the trees, and a new day was born, your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

That was the last day of your own personal winter break.

Even though the semester didn’t technically start until two days after that, you and your father had still gone back to the faculty housing, as some teachers had also returned early to prepare for the remainder of the year.

You didn’t notice how lonely you’d been until you step foot back into your room, which you had deemed your sanctuary. While it still served as such, you found yourself missing Angus.

Despite the fact he was just a short walk away, you wanted to take some time apart. You…adored him (it was too early to call it love), but you still needed some space. It was fitting that your father invited you to come in on the first day back.

“Brush up on the Peloponnesian War.” He said at dinner the night of January 10th. “I wanna give the pubescent boys a warmup before their exam retake.”

Not even the Cheshire Cat could form a grin wider than yours.

He didn’t teach Angus’ class until eleven, so you thankfully had time to sleep in and review. It felt strange to enter the school as boys your age and younger rushed past you, either getting to class or fooling around with one another.

The stares were strange too. Although, where you once would shrink into yourself as you walked, every step now had a surge of confidence while they gawked at a girl their age walking the same halls they did.

When turning a corner, you quite literally almost ran into a boy.

“Oh shit, sorry-.” He looked up, and you recognized his voice, but his face and most notably his hair took you by surprise. He smiled upon seeing you. “Miss Hunham.”

You blinked before chuckling. “Jason. You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Figured it was time; it was getting in my face.”

“Not your dad?”

He didn’t say anything, only smiled before chuckling and giving himself away. “So uh, how was getting stuck over here for Christmas?”

You shrugged. “Not bad, actually. How was skiing?”

“Oh, you know, fun and stuff. I do it every year, so it was nice, but I don’t think I actually would’ve complained a lot if I stayed here.”

Thinning your lips, you still smiled politely. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, would’ve been different.”

It quickly was awkward, but not in the worst way. So, you decided to end it. “Happy New Years, Jason.”

He wished you the same sentiment, and you both were on your way. The second you entered your father’s classroom, all fell silent. Ten boys in that room all stared at you as if you’d grown a second head, and only one of them smiled before glancing back down at his notebook.

“Ah shit.” One of the boys awestricken said perhaps without meaning to.

Still, you walked to your father’s desk, sitting down. “Sorry.”

“We seriously have to deal with you? On the first day?”

You looked over at the aggravating voice you didn’t miss, and promptly nearly fell out of your seat. “Jesus Christ, why do you look like that?!”

A few chuckles were heard as you stared at Teddy Kountze, whose entire face, save for his eyes, was redder than the 1968 presidential election.

He glared at you before smirking. “I was gonna ask you the same thing, Hunham. How was being stuck here with Tully and your shitty dad?”

“It was lovely, thank you.” You decided to do a more “lady like” approach to throw him off.

“Really?” He asked. “You take any pictures?”

You glanced at Angus, whose once lighthearted eyes soon turned dark at the comment. Still, you smiled at him and pondered the question. You actually didn’t take any pictures with him, or anything of that winter break.

“No, actually.” You said. “I should have though.”

Teddy huffed. “Didn’t know you were that much of a slut-.”

“-That’s rich coming from the same species of human that fucked animals and blessed us with STDs.”

The room howled in laughter, even though it was technically a jab at the entirety of the male gender. Still, no one cackled louder than Angus Tully diagonally from you. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself; you’d written that comeback down a few years back, happy that you could finally use it.

All Teddy could do was glare daggers into your skin because soon your father entered the room with. “Welcome back, you snarling Visigoths. I trust you all enjoyed a refreshing holiday.” He walked to the front of the room, eyes falling on you. “Ah, you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“Quite so.” You smirked.

He then looked at Teddy, flinching. “Oh, hello, Mr. Kountze. Or should I say Icarus? Fly a little too close to the sun, did we?”

The boy furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Yeah, all right. Along with your skiing and swimming, I hope you found time to enlighten yourselves about the Peloponnesian War and its implications for today. Just to check, I brought my lovely daughter you all know to test your knowledge before we retake the final from last semester. Omnia ex scrineis vestris praeter stilum.”

All of the boys in the room except for Angus groaned heavily. You stood up and walked to the front of the room with a pep in your step and so begun the third round of your trivia competition.

You were kinder this time; you didn’t immediately ring in your answer as soon as your father finished the question. Except for Teddy; in fact, it was in the middle of a question you decided to answer it.

Of course, the final question was between you and Angus.

“What did Sparta do after the Sicilian Expedition which ultimately helped it win the war?”

Neither of you spoke. Of course, Angus was wondering if you were going easy on him, and you were wondering the exact same thing.

The silence in the room only caused your mind to run into overdrive, going over every page you read in preparation just for this silly little game. Then, it hit you.

You smacked the desk and opened your mouth, but only a strangled syllable escaped before a woman’s voice entered your ears.

“Angus Tully?”

Lydia Crane poked her head into the classroom, and all eyes fell onto her. Angus, in somewhat of a shock, asked. “Yes?”

“Dr. Woodrup would like to see you.”

A chill entered the room, not from the cracked window in the corner of it, but from seven words alone. Angus, after taking them in, glanced at your father.

Keeping his cool, but also tension growing, he nodded. “You can retake it on an off period.”

The last thing Angus did was look at you. He didn’t even need to speak to tell you he was worried beyond compare. Yet…you didn’t know why.

He followed Miss Crane out, and the second he left, Teddy snickered. “One day back, and the basket case is already in trouble.”

“You shut your mouth, Theodore!” You spat.

“Hey!” Your father put his hand on your shoulder. “None of that here, this is a classroom, not the Colosseum. And as for you, Mr. Kountze, we’ll not talk like that any further.”

He shrugged, sheepishly. “Of course, Mr. Hunham.”

Your father said your name gently. “You’re excused. Thank you for attending today.”

Nodding, you marched out of the room and immediately rushed down the hall. You entered the bustling kitchen, half of the cooks cleaning up from breakfast, the other half preparing for lunch that was next period. It wasn’t hard to find Mary, who was the ringleader of the entire operation.

She sighed upon seeing you. “Miss Jane Bennett, I don’t have time for-.”

“-It’s Angus.”

There was a franticness building within your eyes, and it was only then she knew you were serious. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just got called to Woodrup’s office and that’s it.” You huffed. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but it feels wrong.”

“Okay.” She soothed, taking your hand, then turned to a woman beside her. “Clara, hold down the fort.”

Clara nodded, and both you and Mary left the kitchen. Despite being stuck in the school for weeks, it felt like a labyrinth to you once everyone came back. It was Mary who had to lead you through the halls until you were finally at the office. Just as you an Mary were approaching it, you watched as both Miss Crane and Angus left.

Their gaze met yours and Mary’s, and time seemed to stand still. It was Miss Crane who broke it. She squeezed Angus’ shoulder comfortingly.

“Go sit down.”

He carried himself over to the bench by the window as if he was a dead man walking, and he sat down as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. Before you could say anything, Miss Crane walked past you.

You sat beside Angus, looking at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. “What happened?”

“My mother and Stanley are here.”

No build up, no fear before the reveal, he said it like it was.

Yet, while there was no emotion behind his words, his face was the spitting image of one you saw in a history textbook. One that showed a soldier suffering from shell shock.

“I think I’m gonna get kicked out.” He said. “That means military school.”

You wanted to hug him, you wanted to take his hand and run away and move to Boston, New York, Chicago, hell, a little house in Nebraska of all places…but you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t even open your mouth to say something.

So, you just took his hand and placed your head on his shoulder. Mary stood in front of you both, leaning against the wall, and combing her fingers through Angus’ curls.

It felt strange seeing your father walk up to the principal’s door and not saying anything. He glanced at the three of you in confusion before entering the room.

You wanted to ask why, oh why, they were here? What made them of all days return for something so horrible and not to be warm to their son? Still, it didn’t feel right to barge him with questions, so, again, the three of you were there in silence together.

A few minutes passed, and the door opened. Out came your father with a look so solemn you felt like you could cry. He looked between the three of you awaiting his answer for whatever went on in that room.

“It’s this one.” He pointed to his right eye. “This is the one you should look at.”

You all looked at one another in puzzlement, yet even in that, there was a hint of humor in your slight grins.

The door opened, and Dr. Woodrup looked at Angus. “Angus, step inside, please.”

He followed, waiting until the last possible second to let go of your hand. When the door shut, your father looked at you, saying your name softly.

“Would you come with me, please?”

You know he wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t serious. The pain in your had left for just a moment, but then it found its way back when you heard those words. Still, you stood up and followed him.

Your father led you into a hallway that led to nowhere, crossing his arms.

“This…I will not lie and say that this is an easy thing to hear.” He began. “Angus had stolen a snow globe from Miss Crane’s house and gave it to his father at the sanitorium when we visited. It caused his father to have an episode, and he told the orderlies, who then told Angus’ mother. They came here with the conviction that Angus had manipulated us, and that sending him to military school would ‘straighten him’ out so to say…I told them it was solely my idea. I told them I encouraged him to visit his father…and for that, I am being asked to resign.”

“What?” Was all you could choke out.

He took a deep breath, placing his hands on your shoulders. “We’re leaving tomorrow. I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, they can’t do that. He-he, you fucking taught the asshole who’s headmaster!”

“I did, but you know that’s not how this works.”

“On-on the first day, are you serious?!” You laughed.

He said your name gently. “I know this upsets you, believe me, I am too-.”

“No, just,” you sighed, pulling away before walking down the hall. “I’m gonna go home.”

Your father shook his head. “You should start packing. We can figure out where we can-.”

“-I’ll see you after school.” Was all you said.

It didn’t feel real. Your father had just told you in less than a minute that you were leaving. Leaving a place you had essentially grown up in but not at the same time. Leaving a friend, a boyfriend, your very first one, leaving Mary…

Oh god…Mary.

You pushed yourself out of the school and rushed back to the faculty housing, doing your best to avoid anyone before you finally entered your room.

You didn’t cry…you felt the pain and sorrow fester within you, yet you didn’t cry. You wanted to break things, wanted to toss your entire desk out the window, but you didn’t.

There was nothing you could do, and that made it worse.

Your father ordered pizza for both of you that night, explaining more about the situation you were in. He had already packed most of his room up, but you hadn’t even started. He said that you’d drop all of your heavy belongings off at an old coworker’s house in Syracuse and then leave.

“I was thinking Carthage sounds nice.” He chimed in. “Then after that, perhaps Egypt? Or Rome even, I remember you said you always wanted to…”

You only nodded along, and you felt like you were out of your body as he helped you pack up a majority of your bedroom in just a few hours. It felt strange; you knew you were going to leave that year, with your unofficial graduation…yet there you were, leaving in the first month unexpectedly.

With a kiss upon your head, your father wished you goodnight, but you only tossed and turned in your bed.

You were nowhere close to drifting off when you heard something at our window. Sitting up, you pulled the curtains back, revealing Angus Tully standing outside below. You opened the window.

“What are you doing?!” You whisper-yelled.

“Come down here!” He responded.

 “It’s freezing, you come up here!”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“You climb a rope in gym, climb the gutter.”

His eyes drew over to it, and with a heavy sigh, he latched his arms around it. He clumsily climbed his way up, using the house as a crutch. Thankfully, it wasn’t that far of a climb, and you pulled him into your room.

He landed on your bed harshly, nearly letting out a yelp if you didn’t cover his mouth in time.

“I beat you.” Was the first thing you said.

Angus took your hand, furrowing his eyes. “What?”

“The stupid trivia.” You swallowed thickly. “The Spartans started their own fleet and allied with Persia after the Sicilian Expedition. I was going to say that, and I was right. If you let me win, I’ll throw you out the window, I swear to God.”

He sat up, his gaze softening the longer he looked at you. Then, with a tenderness that pained you, he pulled you into an embrace.

That was when you finally cried. You clutched the fabric of his shirt until your knuckles turned white, attempting to muffle your sobs. Angus only held you tighter, kissing this base of your neck and running his hand up and down your back.

“Why’d you take it?” You asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why’d you give it to him?”

“I…I wanted him to have something.” He pulled away only to see your face. “I’m sorry. I know it means nothing, but I really am. I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking.”

You shook your head. “I think we’re gonna leave the country.”

“What?” His voice was strangled.

“Why not? He’s old and hasn’t gone in forever, and I’ve never been outside of America.”

Angus dropped his head, as if it was only then did the gravity of the situation weigh heavy on him. When he finally looked at you again, he took your face into his hands.

“I’m gonna come clean.” He said. “I’ll tell Dr. Woodrup the truth, and that-.”

“-You’re a fucking idiot.”

You never spoke to him like that. Whenever you were angry at him, you were snarky, you were a know it all, but only then, did you say something horrible like you meant it.

Of course, he was absolutely taken aback, but he already knew you had more to say once you pulled back.

“If you get sent to Fork Union, I’m never speaking to you again.” You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter if you write me a letter or a thousand, I will make myself forget everything that happened this Christmas. You’re too smart, no, too fucking brilliant to do some stupid shit and get yourself thrown into Vietnam. Don’t waste it.’

He nodded as soon as you were finished. “I won’t. I…I’m gonna miss you.”

Exhaustion pulled on you as soon as he said that, and you sighed. “I don’t wanna go.”

Angus kissed your cheek, his eyes then traveling around your almost barren room. On your desk sat a familiar book. He picked it up, flipping through the pages. “I’ve never actually read this before.”

“Really? It’s so short.”

“Did you ever find the one your dad gave you?”

“Yeah, I packed that one up.”

He smiled. “How about I read it to you? It’s one of your favorites, right?”

You snorted. “You have school in the morning.”

“I don’t care.”

That’s how you both came to lie down on your bed, and he read The Little Prince aloud to you. It was a memory you wouldn’t forget, even if he landed himself in military school.

You fell asleep nearing the end of the book, and Angus Tully did not wake you to say goodbye.

You thought you’d woken up from a horrible dream, only to then see that your room was still packed, and The Little Prince was neatly set on your desk with a note from Angus.

I put the number and address of the school at the bottom in case you forgot. Thank you for being the best part of my year.

-Angus

You held the note to your chest, falling back down onto your bed. Whether that was God, Allah, Zues, Aphrodite, or perhaps even the spirit of Jane Austen, you were going to beat the shit out of the author to your story once you were dead.

After a moment to yourself, you got dressed and packed up the last of your things, deciding to put the book in your backpack. You didn’t know what time it was, but you were starving, so you’d gone down into the faculty kitchen, flat out ignoring whatever stares or feigned condolences that were given to you from others.

What surprised you was Mary Lamb sitting at the main table.

“And I thought I helped raise you better to come and say goodbye to me.” She scolded you, but with a hint of playfulness.

You sat down beside her. “I didn’t want to cry again.”

“Cry until your eyes fall out.” She said. “It hurts less than holding it all in.”

“I don’t…” You sighed. “I can’t say goodbye. I think I’ll die the second I step out of this house.”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m not!” You whined dramatically.

She snickered, taking your hand. “You listen to me now; you’re not going to die. You’re going to grow older and do whatever you want. You’re gonna travel the world, and you’re…what do you want to be when you grow up?”

You didn’t have an answer. “I don’t actually know…I’ve always like writing-.”

“-Okay, then you’re gonna be a famous writer, and you’re gonna be taught in classrooms a hundred years from now where the snot nosed brats will be bored. Or you’re just gonna figure it out because you don’t need to know right now. How does that sound?”

Smiling shyly, you squeezed her hand. “It sounds good.”

“Good. Now come on, you have to make me jealous you’re gonna travel the world.”

You shook your head, giggling. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’m staying here until God calls me home. That, and making money to send my nephew to college.”

“Peggy knows it’s a boy?”

“I think it’s gonna be.”

You hummed. “I’m gonna make a lot of money so we can live on the beach for however long you want.”

“And I’m holding you to that.”

She went up to speak with your father, and you began loading your things into the U-Haul trailer connected to your father’s car. As you were picking up your last box, two familiar boys approached you.

“Ah,” you smiled upon seeing Alex and Ye-Joon. “I was wondering if you two survived.”

Ye-Joon gave you a look. “Survived what?”

“Skiing. Sounds quite dangerous.” You set your box into the trailer.

Alex shook his head. “No, it was great! I’m sorry you and Angus couldn’t come.”

“Don’t be. We actually…” you paused, feeling sudden emotion creep up on you. “we became really good friends. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“So,” Ye-Joon asked. “why are you and your dad leaving?”

“Did he get fired?” Alex followed.

You shook your head. “They caught him eating cat shit and saw me dancing naked on the football field while performing a pagan ritual.”

They stared at you with a horror you had never seen in boys.

“No, I’m just messing with you.” You laughed. “They had to make cuts for money reasons and my dad was the first to go. You tell people that if they say something, you hear?”

They nodded, muttering ‘yes’ and ‘of course’. With a final wave and wishing of ‘goodbye!’ they ran back to school. Your father soon came out, hauling out a few more boxes.

“Don’t tell me you scared them before we leave?”

You took one from him. “I made them think I was a witch for a few seconds.”

The two of you laughed, and when you looked up, you then saw one Angus Tully walking towards you. He smiled.

“Hi…”

Your father returned the gesture. “Hello.”

“Look…I don’t know what you said to my mom and Stanley, Woodrup. All I know is that I’m not getting kicked out, and you got fired.”

“I just told the truth; mostly.”

He smiled. “Barton man.”

“Barton man.” The bell rang as soon as the sentiment was spoken, and your father opened the door to the trailer, mumbling. “Fifth period.”

Angus didn’t take his eyes off of you even as you tried to avoid them. You caught a glimpse of red beginning to outline them, as if he was holding back tears. Then, rubbing his face, he said.

“You know, it’s only PE. Maybe I could skip it, and we could head over to the Winning Ticket, grab a burger and a beer?”

“Are you shitting me?” You chuckled.

Your father playfully shoved you. “Language. A Miller High Life, no doubt? You never give up, do you?”

“They already fired you, so I figured it was worth a shot.” He shrugged sheepishly then looked at you. “We never got to play pinball.”

“I would’ve beat you, and you know it.”

“Just because you won trivia doesn’t mean you’ll win everything.”

Your father touched your shoulder to get your attention. “I left something in the house, I’ll be back in a second.”

You had an inkling right away he lied to give you privacy, but he wouldn’t confirm it for another month. Still, you nodded, and he went back into the house, leaving you and Angus alone. He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking down at his shoes.

“I think if I hug you, I’ll start crying.”

“And you can’t look like a sissy in front of the other boys.” You attempted to tease. “No, I get it.”

He still latched his arms around you anyway, and you held him to you like the universe was trying to rip him away. It was unspoken when you would ever see each other again, but it was also unspoken that you would see each other again period.

You were the first to pull away, and you forced a smile. “No tears.”

Angus nodded. “No tears.”

An idea came to mind, and you walked over to the car, opening the passenger door and unzipping the top pocket of your backpack. Searching, you finally pulled out A Little Prince and a pen.

“No,” he shook his head. “I gave it to you-.”

You opened the book to the first page. “I have decided as of this morning that I’m going to be a writer; and when I’m famous, you’ll have my signature before I was, so that if you ever need money, you have something.”

After signing the inside of the book, you handed it back to him. You hadn’t expected him to genuinely smile the whole time, yet there you were. He took it from you. “I’d never sell it, you know.”

“Yeah right.” You pulled him into a kiss. You made sure to not have it last too long, or you don’t think you would’ve stopped. You said when you pulled away. “I’ll write to you first, and I’ll try and call if I can.”

He nodded. “Send me pictures.”

“You too.”

“I’m gonna be stuck here even after I graduate.” He snickered.

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “I should’ve taken pictures during Christmas, but I didn’t. I don’t wanna forget anything while I’m gone.”

He nodded, the realization hitting him harder now. “Okay.”

You turned when your father came out of the faculty house, carrying nothing. Angus gave a sheepish smile.

“Is that still a no for lunch?”

Your father grinned. “Your logic is flawless, but I’m afraid we’ll have to decline.”

The three of you didn’t say a word, as if by saying nothing at all, you would never have to say goodbye. It was a silence you would have wanted to stay in forever even if it meant staying out in the bitter cold air.

“You keep your head up, alright?” Your father said. “You can do this.”

Angus nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, I was gonna tell you the same thing.”

They shook hands despite how much you knew they wanted to hug. When all was said and done, Angus nodded towards you and abruptly started running back to the school.

“See ya!”

You should’ve yelled something back, but you couldn’t find the words. Yet, you smiled. It broke your heart to say goodbye, but it was filled at the same time as the memories of the winter break came back to you.

Taking your father’s hand, he rubbed his teared-up eyes with the other and you both walked to the car. It was all official; you were leaving the last place that held the remnants of your childhood behind.

You were leaving your mother and Curtis’ grave, you were leaving the summer and winter days with Elise, you were leaving the school you could have attended and thrived in if you were born a son, you were leaving a woman who had come to be your new mother…you were leaving Angus Tully.

And yet…you were also leaving behind Daniel and his new family. You were leaving behind the pain and sorrow you had carried within you ever since you were a child. It would still linger, and it had always been known to you that you were still you no matter where you were; abroad or not. Hell, the only thing that mattered was if you cried in a more beautiful part of the world or not.

So, perhaps it was all welcomed.

“What city do you want to graduate in?”

You chuckled at your father’s question. “That’s not until May.”

“No harm at all in deciding now.”

Humming, it didn’t take long for your answer. “Athens. Mom always wanted to go there.”

“So, Athens it shall be. Could you hand me the rucksack at your feet?”

You did so without question. Your father soon stopped before the main road, and unzipped one of the pockets. He reached in and took out the fanciest bottle of brandy you had ever seen.

“Holy shit!” You laughed. “Is that-?”

“-Dr. Woodrup’s? Yes.” He unscrewed it, taking a sip, then rolling down his window and spitting it out.

You giggled as he handed it to you, and you set it back in the bag. He turned left, starting the five-hour journey to Syracuse.

“How does Copenhagen sound for our first destination?” He asked.

Smiling at him first, you looked back to the road. “Copenhagen sounds great.”

[herrscherofinsanity]

Drop-dead Gorgeous

When the new friend you made in college is pretty weird and very obviously hiding something... what is one supposed to do?

Fluff probably.

Twice Nayeon x fem!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Hi! I'm back and very inspired

____________________

y/n hurried across the bustling college campus, dodging groups of students chatting and laughing. It was the first day of the new semester, and she was determined to make a good impression in her biology class. She finally reached the lecture hall, slightly out of breath, and pushed open the heavy door.

Inside, the room was already filling up with students. y/n scanned the rows of seats, looking for an empty spot. Her eyes landed on a girl sitting alone near the middle of the room. She had long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders and a pale, almost ethereal complexion. Despite the girl's reserved demeanor, something about her intrigued y/n.

y/n made her way over and smiled warmly. "Hi, is this seat taken?"

The girl looked up, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp and observant. "No, go ahead."

"Thanks," y/n said, settling into the seat next to her. She set her notebook on the desk and turned to the girl. "I’m y/n, by the way."

"Nayeon," the girl replied, her voice soft but clear.

y/n noticed that Nayeon’s skin had an unusual pallor, almost ashen, and when their hands brushed as she adjusted her notebook, y/n was surprised by how cold her touch was. She filed these observations away, curious but not wanting to pry.

As the professor began outlining the semester’s project, y/n couldn’t help but steal glances at Nayeon. There was something captivating about her new partner, something that made y/n want to know more.

After the lecture, as students began to pack up and leave, y/n decided to break the ice. "So, Nayeon, what did you think of the professor's project idea?"

Nayeon shrugged slightly. "It seems interesting. A lot of work, but interesting."

y/n smiled. "Yeah, I agree. Do you want to maybe grab a coffee and discuss it? It’s always easier to brainstorm over caffeine."

Nayeon hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not."

They made their way to a nearby campus café, the conversation flowing more easily than y/n had expected. Nayeon was reserved but polite, and y/n’s bubbly personality seemed to draw her out of her shell little by little.

As they sat down with their drinks, y/n couldn’t help but ask, "So, where are you from? Your accent is a bit different."

Nayeon took a sip of her coffee before answering. "I’ve moved around a lot. My family is a bit... unconventional."

y/n laughed lightly. "Unconventional how?"

Nayeon looked down at her coffee, her expression unreadable. "It’s complicated."

y/n sensed that this was a sensitive topic and decided to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "Well, I’m glad we ended up as partners. I think we’ll make a great team."

Nayeon looked up and gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Yeah, me too."

They spent the next hour discussing their project, sharing ideas and getting to know each other a bit more. By the time they parted ways, y/n felt a genuine connection with Nayeon, even if there was still an air of mystery around her.

As she walked back to her dorm, y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about Nayeon. But rather than being put off, she found herself even more intrigued.

---------

Over the next few weeks, y/n and Nayeon’s partnership blossomed into a genuine friendship. They spent hours together in the library, coffee shops, and their favorite study spots on campus. Despite Nayeon’s reserved nature, she found herself opening up more to y/n’s sunny disposition.

One afternoon, they were in the library working on their project. y/n noticed that Nayeon was wearing gloves, even though it wasn’t particularly cold.

"Are you cold?" y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nayeon glanced at her gloved hands and shrugged. "I just like wearing them."

y/n chuckled. "Okay, Michael Jackson."

Nayeon smirked. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

As they continued to work, y/n couldn’t help but notice other peculiarities. Nayeon never ate in front of her, always claiming she wasn’t hungry. When they touched hands accidentally, Nayeon's skin was always unusually cold. y/n found these quirks endearing but puzzling.

One evening, they were in y/n’s dorm room, working late. y/n’s roommate had gone out, leaving them alone.

y/n stretched and yawned. "Do you want anything to eat? I have some snacks."

Nayeon shook her head. "No, thanks. I’m good."

y/n shrugged and grabbed a bag of chips for herself. "More for me, then."

As y/n munched on the chips, she noticed Nayeon looking a bit uncomfortable. "Hey, are you okay?"

Nayeon forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

y/n nodded and continued eating. "You know, Nayeon, you’re a bit of an enigma."

Nayeon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

"Well, you never eat in front of me, you wear gloves all the time, and you’re always so cold. Are you a vampire or something?" y/n joked, laughing.

Nayeon stiffened for a moment before laughing it off. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m just really mysterious."

y/n laughed. "Well, I’ll figure you out eventually."

As they continued working, y/n’s roommate suddenly burst into the room. "Hey, y/n! Oh, hey Nayeon!"

Nayeon turned around, startled. "Hi."

y/n’s roommate, Jennie, looked at them curiously. "What are you guys up to?"

"Just working on our project," y/n said, smiling.

Jennie nodded and plopped down on her bed. "Cool. Hey, y/n, can you pass me that soda?"

y/n reached for the soda can but accidentally knocked it over, spilling it on the floor. "Oops!"

Nayeon jumped up quickly, her reflexes almost unnaturally fast, and grabbed some tissues to clean it up. Jennie stared, wide-eyed. "Whoa, that was fast."

y/n laughed. "Yeah, Nayeon’s like some sort of ninja."

Nayeon smiled awkwardly. "Just quick reflexes, I guess."

As the weeks went by, y/n noticed more oddities. Nayeon always seemed to know when someone was coming before they arrived, her movements were often too smooth and precise, and she never seemed to get sick or tired like everyone else.

One day, they were walking across campus when y/n tripped over a loose brick on the path. Before she could hit the ground, Nayeon had caught her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Wow, you’re like my personal superhero," y/n said, grinning.

Nayeon helped her up, looking slightly embarrassed. "Just lucky timing."

y/n laughed. "Well, thanks for saving me."

-----------

(One evening, as they were working in y/n’s dorm room, y/n accidentally knocked over a stack of papers. As she bent down to pick them up, she noticed a small vial rolling out of Nayeon’s bag; it was labeled “Embalming Fluid.”

“Nayeon, what’s this?” y/n asked, holding up the vial.

Nayeon’s eyes widened, and she quickly snatched it back. “Oh, just... a family thing.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “A family thing?”

“Yeah, we’re... in the funeral business,” Nayeon said, clearly uncomfortable.

y/n decided not to push further, but her curiosity was piqued.)

-----------

Despite all the strange occurrences, y/n found herself growing more attached to Nayeon. They spent more time together, their friendship deepening. y/n’s natural curiosity and Nayeon’s guarded demeanor created an intriguing dynamic, filled with moments of laughter and genuine connection.

One evening, they were sitting on the roof of y/n’s dorm, watching the sunset. y/n turned to Nayeon, her expression thoughtful.

"You know, I don’t really care if you’re hiding something," y/n said softly. "I like you just the way you are."

Nayeon looked at her, her eyes softening. "Thanks, y/n. That means a lot."

y/n grinned. "Besides, everyone has their quirks. Yours just make you more interesting."

Nayeon laughed, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. "You’re something else, y/n."

Their friendship continued to grow, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and a bond that seemed unbreakable. Despite the quirks and the mysteries, y/n and Nayeon found a connection that went beyond the ordinary, creating a friendship that would eventually lead to something even deeper.

____________________

Despite Nayeon’s claims of being a very mysterious person, she wasn’t that great at keeping secrets. On various occasions Nayeon was almost caught by y/n.

The ice cream incident

It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and y/n had convinced Nayeon to join her at the campus ice cream parlor. The place was bustling with students, and y/n was excited to try the new flavors they offered.

"Come on, Nayeon! You have to try this!" y/n exclaimed, holding out a cone of mint chocolate chip.

Nayeon hesitated, glancing around nervously. "I’m not really a fan of ice cream," she said, trying to deflect.

y/n pouted. "Oh, come on. Just one bite."

Nayeon sighed and took the cone from y/n, her mind racing. She brought the ice cream to her lips but pretended to lick it without actually eating any. "Mmm, delicious," she said, forcing a smile.

y/n narrowed her eyes. "You didn’t even take a real bite!"

Nayeon chuckled awkwardly. "Guess I’m just not in the mood."

y/n laughed and took a big bite herself. "More for me, then!"

---------

2. The mystery bruise

One day, while working on their project in the library, y/n noticed a large bruise on Nayeon's arm. It was a deep purple and looked painful.

"Nayeon, what happened to your arm?" y/n asked, concerned.

Nayeon glanced at the bruise and quickly pulled her sleeve down. "Oh, it's nothing. Just bumped into something."

y/n frowned. "That looks serious. Are you sure you're okay?"

Nayeon nodded. "Yeah, I heal quickly. It'll be gone in no time."

y/n didn't seem convinced but let it go, deciding not to push Nayeon further.

---------

3. The night walk

One evening, y/n and Nayeon decided to take a walk around campus. The moon was full, casting a silvery glow on everything.

As they walked, y/n started talking about her family. "You know, my mom always told me stories about supernatural creatures. Like zombies, vampires, and werewolves."

Nayeon tensed slightly but kept her expression neutral. "Really? Do you believe in that stuff?"

y/n shrugged. "Not really. But it's fun to think about. Like, what if one of our classmates was a vampire or something?"

Nayeon forced a laugh. "Yeah, that would be... interesting."

Suddenly, they heard rustling in the bushes nearby. y/n jumped and grabbed Nayeon's arm. "Did you hear that?"

Nayeon, sensing it was just a small animal, smiled reassuringly. "Probably just a squirrel or something."

y/n sighed in relief. "You’re probably right. I’ve got an overactive imagination."

----------

4. The temperature check

One chilly day, y/n and Nayeon were studying in the library. y/n noticed that despite the cold, Nayeon wasn't wearing a coat.

"Aren't you freezing?" y/n asked, shivering slightly.

Nayeon shook her head. "I'm fine. I don’t really feel the cold."

y/n, puzzled, reached out and touched Nayeon's hand. As always, it was cold. "You're always so cold, though. Are you sure you're okay?"

Nayeon pulled her hand back gently. "Yeah, I'm just one of those people who has cold hands. No big deal."

y/n frowned but didn’t press further. She made a mental note to keep an eye on Nayeon.

--------

5. The running race

One day, y/n challenged Nayeon to a race across the quad. Nayeon tried to decline, but y/n insisted.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" y/n urged.

Nayeon reluctantly agreed. They lined up, and y/n shouted, "Go!"

To y/n's surprise, Nayeon sped ahead, running faster than anyone she'd ever seen. She reached the finish line in seconds, barely out of breath.

y/n, panting, caught up. "Whoa, are you like an Olympic runner or something?"

Nayeon laughed nervously. "I used to run track in high school."

y/n grinned. "Well, remind me not to race you again."

--------

6. The mysterious sickness

y/n came down with a nasty cold one week, and Nayeon decided to visit her dorm to check on her. She brought a care package and stayed to keep y/n company.

As y/n lay in bed, she noticed something strange. "You know, Nayeon, you’re always around sick people, but you never get sick yourself."

Nayeon smiled. "I guess I just have a strong immune system."

y/n nodded, her eyes drooping. "You’re like... superhuman."

Nayeon chuckled softly. "Something like that."

-------

7. The accidental exposure

One night, during a late study session, y/n accidentally spilled coffee on Nayeon's hand. Nayeon flinched but quickly wiped it off.

"Sorry!" y/n exclaimed, grabbing tissues to help clean up.

Nayeon smiled reassuringly. "It's okay. No harm done."

y/n noticed, however, that the hot coffee hadn’t left a mark on Nayeon's skin. "Wow, that was hot coffee. Doesn't it hurt?"

Nayeon shook her head. "I have a high pain tolerance."

y/n looked at her friend, a mix of curiosity and admiration in her eyes. "You’re really something, Nayeon."

Nayeon smiled, hoping her secret would remain safe for a little longer. "So are you, y/n."

____________________

Even with the countless weird moments exchanged between the two girls, y/n couldn’t exactly figure out what Nayeon was hiding. The younger girl made sure to keep an eye out on her friend, but she really had no idea how to connect these dots. Maybe it’s a problem for the future.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Nayeon and y/n were lounging in the younger’s dorm room. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the room. They had just finished watching a movie, and the atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable.

y/n turned to Nayeon with a playful grin. "You know, if you keep being this amazing, I might just have to make a move on you."

Nayeon’s heart skipped a beat. She had been trying to keep her feelings in check, but y/n's words brought everything to the surface. She knew she couldn't start anything with y/n without revealing her true nature. It wasn't fair to her, and Nayeon valued their friendship too much to hide anymore.

Nayeon took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "y/n, there's something I need to tell you."

y/n's playful smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "What is it, Nayeon? You look serious."

Nayeon struggled to find the right words. "This isn't easy for me to say, but I need to be honest with you. I'm... I'm not like other people."

y/n frowned, confused. "Okay…? What exactly do you mean?"

Nayeon looked down at her hands, taking another deep breath. "I'm not human, y/n. I'm a zombie."

There was a moment of stunned silence. y/n blinked, trying to process what she had just heard. "A zombie? Like, the living dead?"

Nayeon nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. I've been dead for a long time, but I'm still here, living a different kind of life."

y/n's mind raced, recalling all the strange quirks and incidents that now made sense. The cold skin, the incredible strength, the odd behaviors. "But... how? Why?"

Nayeon explained, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "I don't know honestly. I just… I’ve always been this way? I very honestly don’t know how this works, I just know I’m dead. I've been trying to live as normally as possible, hiding what I am. But I couldn't keep it from you, not anymore."

y/n stared at her, a mix of disbelief and shock on her face. She didn't know what to say or how to feel. Part of her wanted to comfort Nayeon, but another part of her was overwhelmed by the revelation.

Nayeon continued, her eyes pleading. "I understand if you need time. If you don't want to see me again, I'll understand, but I couldn't keep lying to you, y/n. You mean too much to me."

y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "I... I need some time to process this, Nayeon. It's a lot to take in."

Nayeon felt a pang of sadness but nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be here if you have any questions or if you just want to talk."

y/n nodded slowly, her mind still reeling. "Thanks. I just... I need to think."

Nayeon gave her a small, understanding smile. "I get it. I'm sorry to spring this on you."

y/n shook her head. "No, you did the right thing. I just... need some space right now."

Nayeon stood up, her heart heavy. "I'll go. But remember, I'm here whenever you're ready."

y/n watched as Nayeon left the room, closing the door softly behind her. She sat there in silence, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. She had so much to process, so many questions to answer. One thing was clear though: her feelings for Nayeon were still there, complicated now by this new revelation.

____________________

y/n paced around her dorm room, her mind still reeling from Nayeon's revelation. She needed someone to talk to, someone who could help her make sense of everything. Her eyes landed on her roommate, Jennie, who was lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

"Jennie," y/n began, her voice a mix of uncertainty and urgency.

Jennie looked up, immediately sensing that something was off. "What's up, y/n? You look like you've seen a ghost."

y/n gave a shaky laugh. "I think I just did. Can we talk?"

Jennie sat up, putting her phone aside. "Of course. Spill it."

y/n took a deep breath and sat down on her bed, facing Jennie. "Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but... Nayeon just told me she's a zombie."

Jennie's eyes widened, and for a moment, she was speechless. Then, she burst into laughter. "A zombie? Like, 'brains' and 'undead' zombie? ‘Like The Walking Dead’?"

y/n nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. "Yeah, that kind. And she's been hiding it all this time."

Jennie stopped laughing, realizing y/n was serious. "Wait, you're not joking?"

y/n shook her head. "Nope. Dead serious. Literally."

Jennie sat back, processing this new information. "Wow. That's... a lot to take in."

y/n nodded, running a hand through her hair. "Tell me about it. I don't know what to think or how to feel. I mean, she's still the same Nayeon, but now there's this whole 'undead' thing. Although, she’s been like that this whole time, right? Oh, what even…"

Jennie gave her a sympathetic look. "I get it. It's a lot to wrap your head around, but you know, Nayeon's a good person... or zombie. Whatever. She's always been there for you."

y/n sighed. "I know, and that's what makes it so hard. I care about her, but this is just... so out of the blue."

Jennie smiled gently. "Well, look at it this way. You now have a friend who'll never be late for class because they 'overslept.'"

y/n couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, I guess there's that."

Jennie continued, her tone more serious. "But honestly, y/n, if anyone can handle this, it's you. You're one of the most understanding people I know, and Nayeon clearly trusts you a lot to reveal something this huge."

y/n nodded, feeling a bit more grounded. "Thanks, Jennie. I needed to hear that."

Jennie grinned. "Anytime. And hey, if she ever tries to eat your brains, just remind her I’ll kick her ass."

y/n laughed again, feeling a bit lighter. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jennie stood up and gave y/n a supportive hug. "You got this, y/n. And if you need any more zombie jokes to lighten the mood, you know where to find me."

y/n hugged her back, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Jennie. You're the best."

Jennie winked. "I know. Now, go get some rest. You've had quite the day."

y/n nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. She still had a lot to process, but with Jennie's support, she felt more ready to face whatever came next.

--------

(“She doesn’t look like those from ‘The Walking Dead’ though… maybe she’s like those from that one Disney movie?”

“Jennie, be so for real…”)

--------

A few days had passed since Nayeon’s revelation. y/n had spent those days reflecting on their friendship, Nayeon’s secret, and her own feelings. Jennie’s constant stream of zombie jokes had kept things light-hearted, but y/n knew she needed to talk to Nayeon.

On a sunny afternoon, y/n decided it was time. She made her way to Nayeon’s dorm, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. She knocked on the door, and moments later, Nayeon opened it, looking surprised and a bit apprehensive.

“y/n,” Nayeon greeted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Hi.”

“Hi, Nayeon,” y/n replied, giving her a small smile. “Can we talk?”

Nayeon stepped aside, letting the younger girl in. “Of course. Come in.”

They sat down on Nayeon’s bed, a palpable tension hanging in the air. y/n took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

“So,” y/n began, trying to keep her tone light, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything. And I have to say, Jennie has made it her mission to educate me on every zombie joke ever made.”

Nayeon chuckled, a bit of the tension easing from her shoulders. “I can only imagine.”

y/n grinned. “Yeah, it’s been... interesting. But seriously, Nayeon, I’ve thought a lot about what you told me. And I realized something.”

Nayeon looked at her, a mix of hope and fear in her eyes. “What’s that?”

y/n reached out, taking Nayeon’s hand in hers. “I realized that I like you, Nayeon. A lot. And zombie or not, that doesn’t change.”

Nayeon’s eyes widened, and a smile slowly spread across her face. “Really?”

y/n nodded. “Really. Besides, having a zombie girlfriend could be pretty cool. I mean, I’ll never have to worry about you getting sick or anything.”

Nayeon laughed, the sound filled with relief and happiness. “True. And I’ll always be around, no matter what.”

y/n grinned. “Exactly. And you know what else? I’ve decided that having a zombie girlfriend gives me a lot of material for teasing.”

Nayeon raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yep,” y/n replied, leaning in closer. “For example, did you know that you’re drop-dead gorgeous?”

Nayeon groaned, playfully swatting at y/n. “That’s terrible!”

y/n laughed, enjoying the light-hearted banter. “I know, but you’re stuck with me now.”

Nayeon smiled, her eyes softening. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

y/n’s expression turned more serious, though her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “But in all seriousness, Nayeon, I’m really glad you told me. I know it must have been hard, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. Always.”

Nayeon’s eyes filled with emotion, and she squeezed y/n’s hand. “Thank you, that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

y/n leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft kiss to Nayeon’s lips. It was gentle and sweet, filled with all the emotions they had kept hidden.

When they pulled back, Nayeon looked at y/n with a smile. “You know, I was really worried about how you’d react.”

y/n smiled back, her eyes filled with affection. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I’m pretty sure Jennie herself would be heartbroken. Either way, I’m staying, deal?”

Nayeon laughed, pulling y/n into a hug. “Deal.”

As they held each other, the weight of the past few days lifted, leaving only the warmth of their connection. y/n knew that their relationship wouldn’t always be easy, but with Nayeon by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came their way.

And maybe, just maybe, having a zombie girlfriend wasn’t so bad after all.

--------

(“Does she eat brains though? Should I be ready? Get a wired bat or something?”

“I’ll make her eat your brain if you don’t stop asking questions.”

“I need to know!”

“It’s 3am!”)

____________________

A few weeks had passed since y/n and Nayeon had their heartfelt conversation, and their relationship had blossomed beautifully. y/n, true to her promise, continued to keep things light-hearted and fun. Nayeon, on the other hand, enjoyed every moment, grateful for the love and acceptance she had found.

One sunny afternoon, y/n, Nayeon, and Jennie were lounging in y/n and Jennie’s dorm room, enjoying a lazy weekend together. Jennie, ever the unserious woman, was in the middle of telling another one of her infamous zombie jokes.

“Okay, okay, here’s a good one,” Jennie began, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why did the zombie break up with his girlfriend?”

Nayeon rolled her eyes, but a smile played on her lips. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“Because she wanted something more ‘alive’ in the relationship!” Jennie delivered the punchline with a dramatic flourish, bursting into laughter.

y/n groaned, shaking her head. “Jennie, that’s terrible.”

Jennie grinned. “I know, but I live to make you two laugh.”

Nayeon playfully swatted at Jennie. “You’re impossible.”

y/n leaned over and kissed Nayeon’s cheek. “But we love you anyway.”

Jennie feigned wiping away a tear. “Aw, thanks, guys. I feel so loved.”

Nayeon smirked. “Keep this up and I’ll have your brain for dessert.”

Jennie snickered. “I don’t think y/n would appreciate that. Right y/n?”

y/n laughed, wrapping an arm around Nayeon’s shoulders. “Definitely not, but I like my girlfriend just the way she is, so I might just let her do it.”

Nayeon beamed, leaning into y/n’s embrace. “And I like you just the way you are, too.”

Jennie grinned, watching her two friends with a fond expression despite the threat. “You guys are really cute, you know that?”

y/n and Nayeon exchanged a glance, both smiling. “Thanks, Jennie,” y/n said. “But don’t think that means you’re off the hook for all those zombie jokes.”

Nayeon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got plenty of teasing material now.”

Jennie raised her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to be good.”

y/n snorted. “Sure you will.”

They all laughed, the room filled with warmth and joy. As they settled into a comfortable silence, y/n looked at Nayeon, her heart full. She knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, with love and laughter.

And maybe, just maybe, a few more terrible zombie jokes along the way.

--------

(“Do you think Nayeon could hook me up with a vampire or something?”

“That’s it, I’m moving out…”

“This is important! My wattpad life!”

"Stop asking me questions at this godforsaken hour!")

____________________

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm finally free from being married to the hospital, and I'll have a bit more free time for about a month. I'll try to update as much as I can during this period of time. I have some requests lined up and I'll finally get to them. This is in honor to Nayeon's first comeback as a solo artist, I hope you enjoy it. If you want to request something or simply chat feel free to do so.

[mammalsofaction]

Okay so,

A couple of weeks ago, I started getting back into my MARVEL phase, and since I had no intention of letting my Phineas and Ferb phase go in the meantime, it's cumulated into the desire of seeing a crossover. Before I remembered that a crossover existed, and it sucked. I DID end up rewatching it, and I fell asleep thinking about how wrongly it represented my favourite characters from BOTH fandoms. Natasha didn't feature, and they didnt even crack Tony out of his iron shell. They made Candace look like an idiot, and Isabella had such a small role as to be almost completely insulting.

I'm now 3/4ths of the way done, and the only reason it isn't is because I'm approaching the end of my semester, and I just got too. Overwhelmed. I really, really want to share what I have so far, because I had a TONNE of fun writing it while it was still going, and I'm already so so close to the finish line.

Context/Tags: Post Civil War, Prior to Ragnarok, featuring Irondad. Human Perry, selective mutism. OWCA is a bit more competent than usual in this fic, and while Fury doesn't completely LIKE Francis, there is an air of respect between the two of them.

This snippet mainly features the interaction between Perry, Francis, Carl, Fury, Natasha and Clint. Seeing (writing) these spies interact is at least half the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place.

Snippet under the cut, Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Natasha liked Perry immensely, the moment she met him.

He stands at attention just a little behind a man she assumes to be his superior; a white haired monobrow-ed man in an olive green uniform. Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher cuts an intimidating figure, though apparently shorter in person than he seems from afar, just a little taller than Natasha herself. Much like Tony. His naturally teal hair is just as eye-catching as it had been in his profile photo, though it brings out his Australian complexion, and the brown of his eyes.

He’s dressed eclectically, in what she assumes is something of a uniform within the organisation. A brown Kevlar-and-silk waistcoat over a light teal dress shirt, pressed brown trousers and smart, steel-toed loafers, topped off with the ever-recognizable OWCA fedora.

His gaze is sharp, calculating, but not particularly unwelcome. Perry carries himself not with braggadocio, but the familiar confidence of a man who knows his own strengths, and what he brings to the table. A man who knows himself to be good at his job. Natasha should know; it is a look she sees frequently in her line of work, in the company she keeps.

Time will tell if Perry would remain among them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the esteemed Director Fury in the flesh." Said Francis Monogram, the superior in question, eager and a little bumbling. Natasha could see Perry rolling his eyes, even standing at attention, and Clint hides his chuckle with a well-timed cough.

“I wish I could say the same." Fury says, pointedly ignoring Monogram’s outstretched hand. "You understand this is no social call.”

Francis’ thick mustache quivers unhappily. It reminds Natasha of a fat, old caterpillar. “It never is. We’re glad to be of any service we can, of course. Agent Platypus will be glad to answer any question you have."

“Yes, Agent Platypus." Fury raises his eyebrow. Perry tilts his head when addressed. "Your reputation precedes you. We’ve been told you are OWCA’s finest.”

How someone could look so expressive and professional at the same time, Natasha can’t say. But that was Perry. I do my best, sir. He signs, simple and modest.

His ASL is sharp, quick and fluid, which confirms another point from his portfolio; selective mutism. Clint had been almost delighted to know. She respects that Perry does not pull any punches regarding how well they could understand him.

Nonetheless, a curly haired, freckled child (only a little older than Peter) standing with a clipboard by Francis’ side pipes up. “He said-,"

“We know ASL, kid, that’s not necessary." Clint intercepts gently. He shares a look with Natasha before addressing Monogram. “Sorry, should he be here? Or is he done?”

"Carl is head intern of the organisation.” Monogram answers dismissively, leading the way down from the rooftop where the helicarriers had dropped them off before going their merry way downtown. "I’m afraid he goes wherever I go. He will be responsible for addressing future reports of our meeting.”

Big job for an intern. He shares another look with Natasha, and they both turn to Perry, as if to seek his unspoken opinion on the matter.

Perry gives them a subtle nod.

Natasha chooses to leave it, and follows them down the stairwell.

“I trust you’ve been briefed of our recent little…incident in New York.” Fury starts, as they all make their way through the building. Presumably for Francis’ personal office.

“I’m led to believe it was an accident." Francis says, throwing an indecipherable look over his shoulder. “The Flynn-Fletcher brothers have great untapped potential, and while we’ve had cause to doubt their intentions in light of certain…developments, I am ensured it is not for evil.”

"You think it was an accident.” Fury echoed.

At this, Francis shrugs. "Weirder things have happened in Danville.”

Natasha makes note of the unmistakable coil of tension that grows in Perry’s form with every new mention of the Flynn-Fletcher brothers. Perry clears his throat, loudly.

Francis sighs, as if he had been reminded of an incredibly tedious thing. “Our sources tell us that the boys were only involved peripherally, in any case. The ray in question hadn’t been their fault, even if it had been intercepted and collected in their satellite. The real culprit is a criminal we have been pursuing for years; a Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and his latest Power-Drain-Inator.”

Clint shares another look with her, eyebrows raised. Now this was a new development. “Not the most creative name." He quips.

Francis scoffs. “I assure you, it’s more than made up for in the invention itself, as well as its effectiveness."

Natasha straightens. “So it was effective?"

“Your being here seems tangible enough proof that it was." Francis points out, and she almost hates that it’s a sensible observation. “Doofenshmirtz inventions have a 96% success rate. He is the third most dangerous villain in our database. Agent Platypus, as his nemesis, had neutralised the threat as quickly as he was able-although not quickly enough, as it seems, to fully prevent any harm.”

It is clear that the accusation of failure had been the one to hit a nerve, and Perry looks away, ashamed. Natasha almost felt tempted to reassure him; nothing more upsetting to an agent of their calibre to be accused of failure, after all. But it had a ring of truth-it was only luck that the beam had hit the Avengers after the fight had been done with, and not a second before. Tony, in particular, had been severely incapacitated.

“And where do we find this…. Doofenshmirtz?” Fury asks, as they arrive on the bullpen floor. It is not so busy, but the few OWCA agents lingering don't bother hiding their curious eyes as even when Perry sends a withering glare in their general direction. Carl ushers them all inside Monogram’s office, the largest personal space on one side of the floor.

Inside, the space is decorated with lush carpets and a grand mahogany table, like a high school Principal’s office. There are floor to ceiling windows with a view to the parking lot, as well as a clever viewpoint of the building’s entrances and exits. Not so glamorous, but Natasha could admit it was practical.

Perry closes the door behind them, and clears his throat once again. Carl jumps.

“Yes sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “Being a Friday, considering what we understand of his schedule, he should either be at his home address, or shopping for groceries, since Dr Doofenshmirtz gets custody of his daughter on the weekends due to an agreement with his ex-wife in the divorce. However, certain developments were brought to light that it may be…unwise to act so directly.”

Francis, who had been typing away on his computer when they had arrived, swivels the screen around to show them a purple and white themed webpage that is–on closer inspection, turns out to be an encrypted Tumblr account.

“You’re kidding." Clint says. "He blogged about it?”

“He has more professional blogs as well,” Carl says, procuring a tablet from his pocket (Not Starktech. Most networks prefer to use their own developed tech, and Natasha notes that OWCA is much the same) for Fury’s perusal. "It’s almost comically incompetent, but he also knows we stalk him, so we feel some two ways about it. I would like to bring attention to his most recent post, dated this morning.”

"Looks like he’s entertaining company.” Fury agrees, passing the tablet down to Natasha (with Clint looking over her shoulder.) “I assume you have…plans, for detainment?”

"What’s stopping us from apprehending them all at once?” Clint asks, fingers pointing to the background of the picture taken with all of their criminals in frame. "We have tangible proof of their collaboration, written confessions to their criminal intentions, we know where they are-,”

"Doofenshmirtz is a criminal no matter who he chooses to collaborate with." Francis points out. “And we have records of worse collaborations. These aren't confessions–only intentions, not yet acted out. These posts were made nearly an hour ago, where they’ve made plans to tour the Tri-State Area causing general mayhem. By all means, we don't know their plans, we don't know where they are or where they plan to be, especially considering Doofenshmirtz own historically unpredictable patterns and impulse decisions.”

"And apprehending them in public is out of the picture, I assume.” Natasha says drily. Predictably, all three OWCA operatives tense unhappily. "Too much collateral damage, as well as risk of exposure.”

"It’s not like you can do much, without solid criminal charges." Carl mutters. “Not if we detain them in the Tri-State Area. Doofenshmirtz’s little brother is the current mayor, and he’s stupidly well-regarded. His influence is wide-spread. Doofenshmirtz also has an exceedingly amicable relationship with his ex-wife, who owns a very influential legal firm. She even kept his name.”

"So we can’t pin them on jack shit, is what you’re saying.” Clint surmises. “Not until they do something drastic. Not so long they remain in the bounds of the city. And they will remain here. We know they want something from Doofenshmirtz, and they don't know how dangerous he is.”

“And how dangerous is that?" Fury asks.

Francis and Carl simultaneously glance to the side, where Perry had chosen to take position by the side of the door.

"Not much.” Carl says. "Usually.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

Perry coughs, to call attention to himself, and brings his hand up in a see-saw motion with a twitch of his left eye.

He’s unpredictable, Perry signs. We mean that. He’s ambitious, single minded, and persistent, with the genius engineering know-how to walk his talk. But he follows his own rules, and standards of conduct, which are almost admirable. He also has an almost debilitating case of ADHD, prosopagnosia, and PTSD. Trying to follow his sense of logic can be…. difficult.

“I can believe that." Fury defers. "What do you suggest, Agent?”

Perry glances towards Francis, as if to ask for permission. When Francis responds with a brisk nod, Perry wastes no time.

There is a protocol in place. We call it Walking the Dog.