#im not against fics where they sleep together before

[elektrae]

Nanami owner of the slowburn friends to lovers 200k words they kiss in the final chapter trope

[bellaveux]

Can you do a Natasha fic where the reader gets really sick while she's at work, and is kind of going through it with a rude boss, so she's just having a really rough day, but she never told Natasha because she's scared of confrontation. Anyway, the day she gets sick an employee calls Natasha while she's working at SHIELD to inform her that y/n threw up and isn't feeling well, so Natasha drops everything to go and pick her up. She takes care of her and the reader just gets really emotional and kinda breaks down, tells her everything going on and Natasha like HANDS IT TO y/ns boss? Thank you!

by your side | n. romanoff x fem!reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you always put everything you had into your work, pushing yourself until the weight of the stress finally caught up with you. whenever it did, natasha was there to pick up the pieces.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, sick!fic, angst, protective!natasha, caring!natasha, reader gets exhausted (to the point it gets very concerning), very small hint of dark!natasha towards the end, an annoying man *eye roll*

word count: 9.8k

note: WHY IS THIS SO LONG IM SORRY

You worked at a bustling office in the heart of New York City, where the sound of phones ringing and keyboards clacking was a constant backdrop to your life. It was the kind of place that never really slowed down, no matter the time of day, and you were always at the heart of it, buried under a never-ending pile of deadlines and demands. Your boss, a man who thrived on intensity and pressure, never seemed to pause long enough to recognize the strain he put on his employees—especially you. To him, you were just another cog in the machine, a very dependable one, which means he pushed you harder than most.

The problem was, he never knew when to stop asking.

You never said no. You couldn’t. Not when your boss stood over your desk, throwing more work your way without a second thought, his voice always sharp, always urgent. “Can you handle this by end of day?” It wasn’t really a question, just an expectation, and you—too kind, too eager to please—would nod, even though your head was already pounding, even though your body was screaming for rest.

Day after day, it was the same routine: arriving at the office before anyone else, your steps heavy before you even crossed the threshold, often staying late into the evening, long after the sun had set and the streets outside had quieted. You ate lunch at your desk, if you remembered to eat at all, and even when you were home, your phone buzzed with emails and messages that you felt obligated to respond to.

Stress seeped into your bones, deeper with each passing week. It started small—just a lingering headache at first, or a faint wave of nausea that you could ignore. But soon, it became harder to push through. You’d stand up too quickly and feel the room spin at times. Your hands shook when you typed, your vision blurring at the edges. By the time you crawled into bed, exhaustion pulling at you, sleep never came easily. You’d lie there, staring at the ceiling, your mind still racing with the tasks you hadn’t completed yet.

Natasha noticed the changes first, the quiet ways your body betrayed you. The exhaustion was written all over your face, in the dark smudges beneath your eyes, in the slowness of your movements. You didn’t smile as easily, didn’t laugh as often. When you sat together, Natasha could feel the tension in you—how you would fidget, your hands restless, your mind clearly somewhere else. And the more it happened, the more Natasha’s concern grew.

She didn’t like how your job was stripping away your vitality, how the woman she loved seemed to be fading right before her eyes. Natasha had spent a lifetime learning how to take care of herself, how to survive under pressure, but watching you suffer was something she couldn’t just stand by and let happen.

A couple nights later, she entered the apartment quietly, the sound of her boots soft against the floor as she shrugged off her jacket. The space was unusually quiet. She couldn’t hear the usual shuffle of you in the kitchen, the faint hum of the TV or music playing in the background. Her instincts, honed from years of training, told her something was off.

The faint glow of light peeked out from under the door of the small office down the hallway. Natasha’s brow furrowed as she made her way toward it, her steps measured. Pushing the door open gently, she found you slumped over your desk, your laptop still open, a forgotten cup of coffee sitting cold beside you. You were asleep, your head resting on your arms, your body curled into the desk as if you had simply given up mid-task. The lines of exhaustion etched into your face were even more prominent now, your breathing soft but uneven. Natasha’s heart sank, a sigh leaving her lips. She took in the scene—the clutter of paperwork, the blinking cursor on the screen, the clock ticking far too late into the night.

You looked so small like this, your usual vibrant energy drained away. Natasha swallowed hard, a wave of guilt and protectiveness washing over her. She knew you were exhausted. She’d seen it in your eyes, heard it in the tired way you spoke lately.

Natasha crossed the room slowly, crouching down beside the chair. Gently, she reached out, her fingers brushing against your hair, moving a stray lock behind your ear. You stirred faintly, but didn’t wake, your body too tired to register the touch. Natasha sighed again, her chest tightening with frustration at your boss for running you into the ground, and at herself for not stepping in sooner.

She glanced at the laptop screen, at the endless emails and documents open, the work that never seemed to end. Her eyes narrowed, and she closed the laptop with a soft click, shutting off the pressure it represented. This wasn’t what you deserved—this never-ending cycle of work and stress, of pushing yourself until you broke.

"Baby?" Natasha whispered softly, her voice laced with concern.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open slowly, disoriented and mumbling something under your breath. Her heart squeezed as she leaned in closer, her hand still caressing your hair.

“Let me take you to bed, detka,” she urged softly, her thumb brushing lightly across your temple.

You shifted slightly, mumbling incoherently, “I… I still… I need to finish some stuff first…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, slurred with exhaustion, but still that underlying thread of responsibility ran through it.

Natasha shook her head gently, her hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “No, no, you can finish it later,” she protested softly, but firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Your brow furrowed faintly in protest, but your eyelids were already drooping again, your body sagging further into the chair. “I… I’m almost done, I just…” you murmured again, your words fading as your head lolled slightly.

Natasha sighed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. Even in your droopy state, you were stubborn. But she wouldn’t let you push yourself any further tonight.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered, slipping her arms beneath you to lift you from the chair. You barely protested then, your body limp in her hold, already too far gone to fight anymore.

As Natasha carried you toward the bedroom, your head nestled against her shoulder as she pressed a soft kiss to your hair before laying you down against the soft mattress and tucking you in under the blanket.

She hated it—hated every bit of seeing you like this. Over the past few weeks, she watched you grow more and more exhausted under the relentless weight of work. It gnawed at her, the way you seemed to fade a little more each day.

You were always so selfless, so willing to take on anything asked of you, and Natasha knew it. She admired your strength, your commitment, but this... this was too much. The late nights spent hunched over your laptop and the way you had started falling asleep at your desk almost every night—it was all wrong. It felt like your fire was being slowly extinguished, and Natasha couldn’t stand it.

She felt helpless, almost, watching her girlfriend work herself to the bone, all because she was too nice to say no. You were always the one giving—too much of yourself, Natasha realized now—and she didn’t know how to protect you from this. She could face any enemy, survive any mission, but seeing you like this, so drained and worn, was something she wasn’t prepared for. It stirred something fierce in her, this protective instinct that made her want to grab your boss by the collar and demand that they stop putting you through this. But that wasn’t how you operated. She knew you wouldn’t want that.

It was just one night later, when Natasha decided that all this would come to an end. She was lounging on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table as she absentmindedly flicked through the channels on the TV. It had been a quiet evening, the kind that felt rare and fleeting in her world. You were working late again, and Natasha had been expecting to see you walk through the door soon, your usual soft smile brightening up the apartment.

But instead, her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

Natasha smiled to herself as she answered, but the tone of your voice wasn’t what she expected. There was a hesitance there, a weariness she could sense even before you spoke.

“Hey, Nat,” your voice was soft, almost sheepish, like you were hesitant to ask something. “Do you think… um, do you think you could pick me up from work? I’m just… too tired for the subway tonight.”

Natasha didn’t even need to hear the rest. Her heart clenched at the thought of you trying not to burden her. She sat up instantly, already swinging her legs off the couch as if she’d been waiting for this all evening.

“Yeah, baby, of course,” she said, her voice firm and warm, leaving no room for hesitation. “I’ll be there in soon.”

You let out a small sigh of relief on the other end, a sound so soft that Natasha could practically feel it. “Thanks, Nat. I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t apologize,” her reply was immediate, firm. She could hear the way your words trembled, how much it had probably taken for you to admit you needed help. That fact alone made her move even faster. “I’ll be there soon.”

As she hung up the phone, her eyes narrowed, determination settling in. It made her chest ache—you shouldn’t have to ask, shouldn’t have to feel shy about needing something as simple as a ride home.

She didn’t waste a second. Throwing on her jacket, Natasha grabbed her keys and headed straight for the door. She made it to her car in record time, sliding into the driver’s seat with focus before she sped out of the apartment building's parking lot, her grip tight on the wheel. The roads were clearer this late, and she took advantage of it, her foot pressing harder on the gas as she weaved between cars, the streetlights casting fleeting glows through the windows. All she could think about was getting to you. The thought of you standing outside your building, tired and alone, was enough to make Natasha’s stomach twist. You worked so hard, too hard, and the idea of you taking the subway, bone-tired and vulnerable, made Natasha’s blood race faster than the car.

It wasn’t long before Natasha pulled up in front of your building, her car coming to a halt with a smooth screech. She didn’t bother with parking neatly, didn’t care about anything except finding you. Her eyes scanned the entrance, and there you were—standing on the sidewalk, looking small and worn-out under the harsh glow of the streetlamp. Even from the distance, Natasha could see the way your shoulders slumped.

She jumped out of the car, her heart squeezing at the sight of her. “(Y/n),” she called softly, but with enough urgency that your head snapped up. Your tired eyes brightened just a bit when you saw her, and that was all it took for Natasha to feel a flood of warmth.

“Hey,” you said, your voice small as you walked toward her, your bag slung over one shoulder. You looked up at her with a shy smile, almost embarrassed, like you felt guilty for even asking. “You didn’t have to rush—”

“Don’t even,” Natasha interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. She stepped closer, her hand resting on your cheek for a moment, thumb brushing the dark circles under your eyes. “You look exhausted.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was a long day,” you admitted quietly, leaning into her touch.

She knew you well enough to see through that smile. You were faking it—putting on a brave front like you always did when you were too tired to admit how bad things were. Natasha didn’t say anything, though. Not yet at least, not wanting to put any more stress on your shoulders for the rest of the night. Instead, she carefully took your bag from your shoulder and guided you over to the car. Without another word, Natasha opened the passenger door for you, her eyes never leaving you as she gently guided you inside. As soon as you were settled, she rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, her hand instinctively reaching over to rest on your thigh. She kept her hand there, her thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles into your leg. The car was warm, comfortable, but the silence between them was filled with something soft, a quiet understanding. She drove fast, her usual controlled demeanor slipping a little in her urgency to get you home, to get you somewhere safe and warm.

As she drove, Natasha started speaking quietly, filling the silence with soft reassurances and a few stories about her own day—anything to lighten the mood, to keep you grounded. “You know, Fury was on my case about the paperwork again… I swear he thinks I’m made for office work. Can you imagine?”

She went on like that for a minute or two, just talking to keep you company, but when she glanced over at you, she saw you had already fallen asleep. Your head rested gently against the window, the faintest sound of your breathing filling the car. Natasha’s heart ached at the sight, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Arriving back at the apartment, she parked the car, then gently placed her hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake.

“Baby, we’re home,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the late evening air.

You stirred, blinking up at her groggily, before mumbling something Natasha couldn’t quite make out. She smiled at the sight, though, feeling an ache of tenderness as your sleepy eyes met hers.

You made your way inside, Natasha holding your hand firmly as they walked through the building and into the elevator. In the quiet space, she leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your hand, then your cheek, trying to get a real smile from you. Your lips curved upward, but it was faint—Natasha could see the exhaustion still pulling you down.

Once you were inside the apartment, Natasha felt a strange sense of relief, thinking they were finally home, finally safe. You both kicked off your shoes near the door, and Natasha started to head toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water for you. But just as she turned away, she heard the unmistakable thud of you collapsing behind her.

“(Y/n)!” Natasha shouted, her voice thick with panic, rushing your side immediately. She managed to catch you just in time, pulling you into her arms, her heart racing. “God... what happened?”

Still dazed, you gave her a tired smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Nat. Really… I just slipped... Got a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You’re not fine, (Y/n). You almost passed out,” Natasha snapped, her frustration breaking through the concern. “I’ve been watching you every day, running yourself into the ground, and you just keep brushing it off like it’s nothing.”

You sighed, trying to keep your voice calm, though your exhaustion made you sound small and fragile. “I’m okay, Natasha. Really. I just need to sit for a minute. I’ll be fine.” You reached up and touched Natasha’s face gently, trying to reassure her, even if it was far from the truth.

But Natasha’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, she looked even more conflicted, torn between wanting to believe you and knowing deep down that something wasn’t right.

“I just... I just want you to be okay,” Natasha said quietly, her voice breaking a little, the concern clear in her eyes. She wanted to take care of you, to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far, but you kept putting up walls—soft ones, sure, but walls nonetheless.

You smiled again, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I will be fine,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Natasha’s temple as if that could erase her worries.

Natasha swallowed hard, still unconvinced. “Can you please just... sleep earlier tonight? For me?”

You sighed and nodded softly, your hand stilling on her cheek, “Okay. I will.”

That night, you actually followed through. You did something you hadn’t done in a long time—you went to bed early, just like Natasha had asked. Your body gave in almost instantly, sinking into the soft mattress beneath you. Natasha, careful and gentle, slid into bed behind you not long after, wrapping an arm around your waist.

The warmth of your girlfriend’s body was a comfort that you didn’t realize how much you’d missed. She pulled you closer, pressing her chest against yours back, holding you as though she could somehow protect you from the stress and weariness that had been overtaking you. You let out a small, content sigh, nestling deeper into the blankets as your hand instinctively found hers, your fingers intertwining.

Natasha’s breath was soft and steady, brushing against the back of your neck. She stayed like that, holding you close, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. As your body relaxed, Natasha’s heart clenched, knowing how much you had been pushing yourself—too much, too hard. And the thought of you collapsing earlier that evening, that brief, terrifying moment, replayed in her mind over and over.

With her face buried against your hair, Natasha whispered, “I’ve got you, detka,” though she wasn’t sure if you could hear her, already drifting into sleep.

She held you even tighter, her fingers lightly tracing over your skin as if to reassure herself that you were there, safe and resting. Natasha hated seeing you so drained, so worn down by the demands of a job that seemed to take more and more from you. She didn’t like it, the way you always said you were fine, brushing off your own well-being, trying to be strong for everyone else but yourself. She wasn’t used to feeling so helpless, but tonight, at least, she could hold you close and promise herself that she would do whatever it took to make sure you didn’t have to carry so much alone anymore.

“I love you,” Natasha murmured into skin, hoping that in your dreams, you’d feel just how much.

The next day was a blur of routine, at least until everything changed in an instant. Natasha had been buried in paperwork of reports and briefings at S.H.I.E.L.D., her mind only half-focused as she replayed the events of last night. She had been relieved to see you sleep early, hoping that it marked the start of you finally resting more.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar sight of your name flashing on the screen making her smile for a brief second. She was expecting a cute text or a midday update, hopefully saying that you slept well last night and that you felt much better.

Natasha answered immediately, “Hey, baby—”

But it wasn’t your voice on the other end of the line. It was someone else—a voice she vaguely recognized, one of your coworkers. Her heart dropped instantly.

“Natasha?” the voice was shaky, worried. “It’s Grace. I—I didn’t know who else to call. (Y/n)… she collapsed at work. She’s in the bathroom, and she threw up. She’s barely conscious—”

She didn’t hear the rest. The world around her went silent, her heart pounding in her ears. She was moving before she even realized it, throwing her jacket over her shoulder as she sprinted down the hall, ignoring the questioning glances from her team.

“I’m coming,” Natasha cut in sharply. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She barely gave her a chance to respond before hanging up, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she burst through the doors of the headquarters, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario. You had been pushing yourself too hard for too long, and now it was catching up with you in a way Natasha had feared but hoped would never happen.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white, weaving through traffic without hesitation. Every second felt like an eternity as Natasha’s mind kept replaying Grace’s words—collapsed, barely conscious, you. The need to be there, to make sure you were okay, to hold you and take care of you, consumed her completely.

She arrived at your workplace in what felt like both a heartbeat and a lifetime, her heart racing as she tore through the office doors. Faces blurred past her as she hurried down the hall, driven by the singular need to get to you.

When she reached the bathroom, Grace was waiting just outside, looking as pale as a sheet. “She’s in there,” Grace murmured, but Natasha didn’t need to hear more. She pushed the door open and rushed inside, finding you slumped against the wall by the sinks, your face pale, eyes half-closed, and your breathing shallow.

Natasha dropped to her knees beside you, gently lifting your face with trembling hands. “(Y/n),” she whispered, her voice cracking, “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Your eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. “Nat, I… I’m sorry…” you mumbled weakly, and it only made Natasha’s heart clench tighter.

“Shh, don’t talk,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “We’re getting you home, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

But inside, Natasha was anything but calm.

She took you home with little hesitation, bundling you up in her arms and practically carrying you to the car. The ride back had been silent, you were too drained to speak, your head resting against the window, eyes closed, your breathing soft but labored. As soon as you reached the apartment, Natasha helped you into bed, making sure you had water, medicine, and plenty of blankets, wrapping you up in care as you quickly fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

Natasha paced the apartment, restless with worry. She texted Fury immediately, telling him she wouldn’t be coming in for work until you were better. Fury didn’t argue—he knew her mind was made up, and nothing would bring her back until she was sure you were okay.

Hours passed with you fast asleep, and Natasha found herself sitting by the bed, watching over you, her own thoughts swirling. Guilt settled deep in her chest. She should’ve known. She should have done something before it got this bad. But none of those thoughts would help now. All she could do was be here, to make sure you didn’t have to go through any of this alone.

It wasn’t until evening that you finally stirred, groaning softly as you slowly sat up, rubbing at your temples. Your head was pounding, your body aching, but when you saw Natasha sitting there, waiting patiently, something inside you softened. She didn’t look mad or frustrated, just concerned, her eyes filled with a quiet, unwavering love that you felt you didn’t deserve, not after pushing yourself so hard and ignoring all of Natasha’s gentle warnings.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur. Your gaze dropped to her lap, guilt heavy in your chest. You had worried her so much, put her through this, and all because you couldn’t say no at work.

But Natasha shook her head immediately, shifting closer, her hand gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek before cupping her face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly, her thumb stroking your soft skin. “You don’t have to say sorry for this.”

It was simple. Those words. But it broke something in you. You had been holding everything in for so long, trying to be strong, trying to manage it all on your own, but Natasha’s kindness, her gentle touch, undid everything. Tears slipped from your eyes before you could stop them, and within moments, you were crying completely, burying your face in Natasha’s shoulder as the weight of everything you had been holding back came crashing down.

She didn’t say a word, only held you closer, your arms wrapping around you protectively, letting you cry as long as you needed to. She pressed soft kisses into your hair, murmuring quiet reassurances, but mostly, she just listened. She knew you needed this release more than anything.

Eventually, through the sobs, your voice cracked, spilling the truth you had been too scared to admit. “He just… He makes me do so much. He’s so demanding, and no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m trying so hard, Nat, I’m trying to do everything right, but I can’t…”

Natasha closed her eyes as she listened, stroking your back soothingly, her own frustration simmering beneath the surface. She wanted to storm into your office and tell your boss exactly what she thought of him, but for now, all that mattered was you.

You sobbed into her shoulder, your words tumbling out between shaky breaths, “He… he piles everything on me, Nat. Every day, it’s something new. More deadlines, more expectations, and he doesn’t even care how late I have to stay. If I mess up—just once—he looks at me like I’m useless. I try so hard to keep up, but…”

Your voice cracked, the frustration and helplessness weighing so heavy on your shoulders, it was like a physical weight pressing you down. Your body trembled against Natasha, and all she could do was hold you tighter, one hand resting at the back of your head, her fingers threading gently through your hair.

“I… I just want to do my job, but he’s always expecting more, always demanding… and I can’t even say no, because if I do, I-I’ll get behind, and then—then I’ll look incompetent, and I can’t lose this job.” Your words came out in a rush, a desperate ramble as you tried to explain further, tried to make sense of the unbearable pressure you’ve been enduring. “I’m just so tired, Natasha. I’m so tired, and I can’t keep up anymore.”

Natasha listened in silence, her jaw clenched as she held you close. She felt your pain as if it were her own, every word twisting something deep inside of her. But beneath the surface of her calm, stoic exterior, something darker was brewing. Rage—pure, unfiltered rage—was bubbling up, so fierce it nearly consumed her. She could feel it burning in her chest, in her gut, the protective instinct inside her flaring dangerously as your words sunk in.

Your boss. The one who had drained you like this, the one who had pushed you so far you collapsed in the bathroom, throwing up from sheer exhaustion. Natasha wanted to march into that office and tear him apart. How could anyone treat someone as kind, as gentle, as hardworking as you this way? Her hands tightened around you slightly, but she forced herself to stay calm, to focus on the moment. You needed her right now, needed her love and her comfort, not her anger.

But in her mind, she was already planning.

“I… I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and broken from crying. “I just… I just want to feel like I’m enough, Nat. I-I feel like I’m doing so much... and I’m so tired of feeling like I’m always failing.”

Natasha’s heart shattered at those words, but she kept her voice steady as she pressed her lips softly to your temple. “You are more than enough, milaya. You always have been. Your boss? He’s the problem, not you.”

You sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at her, your eyes red and puffy, but the pain was still etched deeply into your features. “I just… I don’t know what to do...”

Natasha wanted to tell you right then and there that you didn’t need to do anything, that she would take care of it, that she would storm into that office and make sure your boss never treated you this way again. But instead, she took a deep breath, her voice soft but firm as she held your gaze. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore, detka. I’m here now, and I’m going to help you, okay?”

You nodded weakly, another tear slipping down your cheek, and Natasha gently wiped it away, her thumb lingering on your soft skin. But inside, Natasha was livid. She was already imagining ways to get her hands on your boss, imagining how satisfying it would be to make him pay for everything he had put you through.

For now, though, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on you, pulling you close again. You were the priority. And Natasha silently promised herself that she would do whatever it took to protect you. She wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. She would make sure of it.

An hour later, Natasha was sitting up against the headboard of the bed you shared with her, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of her laptop screen. You were sound asleep beside her, breathing quietly, your body finally getting the rest it so desperately needed. Natasha glanced at you for a moment. She wanted to do everything she could to ensure you would never feel so broken again.

But for now, there was something else on her mind.

She pulled up her sleek, encrypted laptop—the one she used for her work with S.H.I.E.L.D., her missions, her other life. It was a tool for information, and right now, she needed to know everything about your boss. She typed quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced precision, bypassing security walls and restricted databases. Within minutes, she had the man’s entire life laid out in front of her.

He wasn’t anything impressive. Natasha scrolled through his information, her brow furrowing with each new detail. He was 57 years old, with a wife and three kids—two daughters and a son. He had a mediocre degree in business from some underwhelming university, and his career trajectory was equally unimpressive. Fired from several previous jobs, all for various reasons that hinted at incompetence and poor management skills. He had only landed his current position because of a personal connection with one of the board members at your company.

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line as she absorbed the information. This was the man who had been making your life a living hell? A man who barely had the qualifications to run a business, let alone manage an entire office full of hardworking people? Her fingers hovered over the keys as she contemplated her next move. There were so many ways she could make his life difficult. She could anonymously tip off a competitor, sabotage his reputation, or even dig up dirt that would have him out of a job faster than he could blink.

But she hesitated, her eyes flicking back to you sleeping next to her. She couldn’t go too far—this was your life, and any drastic move could ripple back and cause more problems for you. Still, the thought of him sitting behind his desk, barking orders at you, draining you day after day, made her blood boil.

She leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes, her mind racing. There had to be a way to make things right, a way to make sure you didn’t suffer under this man’s control any longer. She wasn’t just going to sit back and let you be destroyed by someone so insignificant. No, she was going to find a way to fix this. To protect you.

She closed the laptop gently and placed it on the bedside table, her mind already spinning with ideas. She wasn’t the kind of person who let those she loved be hurt. She would deal with this. One way or another, your boss would learn that no one messes with someone she loves.

She lay back down, pulling you into her arms as she drifted off, her mind already formulating her next steps. For now, though, she held you closer, her lips brushing your forehead.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred beside her, your body moving instinctively as you began to sit up, a quiet groan escaping your lips. Natasha was already awake, watching you closely, her eyes sharp and calculating. She knew exactly what it was you were going to try to do.

"Where are you going?" Natasha’s voice was gentle but firm as she moved swiftly, already getting out of bed before you could muster a response.

You rubbed your eyes, still groggy. “I need to get ready for work…” You mumbled, pushing the covers aside. Your movements were slow, like you were still too tired to fully function, but your determination was clear.

But Natasha was faster, as always. She was already at the foot of the bed, blocking your path with crossed arms and a look that left no room for negotiation. “You’re not going to work today,” Natasha stated flatly, her voice unwavering.

You blinked, taken aback by Natasha’s tone. “But I—”

"No," Natasha cut her off, shaking her head as she stepped closer. "You collapsed yesterday. You threw up. You can barely stand right now. There's no way I’m letting you go back to that place, especially not today."

Your lips parted, a protest forming on the tip of your tongue, but Natasha held your gaze, unwavering and serious. "I already called in sick for you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Natasha…"

"I’m not asking," Natasha added, her tone softening but still firm. She moved closer, resting her hands gently on your shoulders. "You’re staying in bed. You need to rest."

You sighed, your resolve faltering under your girlfriend’s care. "There’s still so much work I have to—"

"I don’t care," Natasha interrupted again, her voice a little more gentle now. "You’re not going back to work today." She paused, her eyes softening as she reached up to cup your face.

You bit your lip, looking down at your lap, conflicted. You knew Natasha was right. You knew your body couldn’t handle much more, not after yesterday, but the guilt still gnawed at you. "I just… I don’t want to fall behind."

"You’re not falling behind," Natasha reassured you, leaning in and brushing a kiss against your forehead. "You’re taking care of yourself. And that’s more important."

Your shoulders sagged as you gave in, sighing softly and leaning into her touch. "Okay," you whispered, your voice quiet and defeated, but also grateful. "I’ll stay in."

Natasha smiled softly, her fingers brushing through your hair. "Good," she whispered.

Without another word, Natasha gently guided you back down onto the bed, pulling the covers up around you. She pressed another soft kiss to your temple before straightening up. "I’ll make you some tea," Natasha said, glancing back over her shoulder. "And maybe some breakfast too."

You watched her, eyes heavy but filled with love and gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered.

She just gave you a small smile, disappearing into the kitchen. Today, there would be no work. No stress. Just rest.

Natasha spent the entire day doting on you, hovering close by whenever she was needed. She moved through the apartment, focused entirely on making sure you were comfortable. Whether it was bringing tea to soothe your nerves or pressing a cool cloth against your forehead, Natasha never strayed far. Every time you stirred, she was there. When you needed water, she was there. When you needed to rest but couldn’t get comfortable, she shifted things around until everything was just right. There were no complaints, no sighs of frustration at all. 

As the evening wore on and the quiet comfort of your day together began to settle into the apartment, Natasha knew she had to take care of something—something you didn’t need to know about. She sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing her fingers through your hair, watching as you slowly drifted in and out of sleep. The concern was still etched on her face, her brows slightly furrowed even while you rested.

Natasha let out a slow sigh, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead again. “I need to head into headquarters for a bit,” she murmured quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered open just slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as you blinked yourself awake. “Now?” you mumbled, still groggy, your voice rough from the day of rest.

Natasha smiled, trying to make it seem casual. “Just for a little while. I won’t be long. But you need to promise me something, okay?”

You looked up at her, still half-asleep, but you nodded weakly. “What?”

“Stay here,” Natasha said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “No work. No emails. No phone calls. Just rest, okay? I mean it.” Her voice was soft but there was a steel edge to it, and you knew better than to argue when Natasha was like this.

“Okay,” you mumbled, your body sinking deeper into the pillows as you closed your eyes again. “I promise.”

Natasha smiled and stood up, giving you one last lingering look before grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. You didn’t need to know where she was really going. There was no need to worry you more than you already were.

This wasn’t about S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha wasn’t heading into work.

She was going to pay your boss a little visit at the office—a "talk" that was long overdue. There were things that needed to be said, and she wasn’t going to let this man get away with pushing you to the brink any longer.

Natasha moved swiftly through the streets, her sharp instincts guiding her to your office building with practiced ease. The city had quieted down for the night, only the hum of distant traffic breaking the stillness. She had no real reason to hurry, but the tension in her chest urged her forward, faster.

At the building, it was as quiet as expected at this hour. Most of the employees had gone home hours ago, leaving only the security guards and a few late workers scattered in cubicles on the higher floors. Your boss, though, was always the last to leave. Natasha had done her research. She knew his routine. He liked to linger, even though he barely did anything of substance, making his staff stay late while he hid behind his office door, enjoying the title of authority he had somehow stumbled into.

Natasha slipped into the building with ease, her steps soundless as she navigated the hallways. She knew the place well from all the times she’d come to pick you up late at night. But tonight was different. Tonight wasn’t about waiting patiently in the car, hoping you would come out soon, looking worn but smiling.

This time, Natasha was the one who would leave him waiting.

When she finally reached his office, the dim light of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. She slipped inside without a sound, moving with the grace and stealth that only years of training could perfect. She found the perfect spot in a chair in front of his desk, just out of the light, where she could see the door in the reflection of the window but remain unseen. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she imagined the look on his face when he found her there.

Sitting in the dark, Natasha’s thoughts drifted back to you—how pale and fragile you had looked just the night before, falling into your arms after trying to push through another hellish day. It angered her more than anything else. She could fight villains, take down global threats, but this man—this petty, power-hungry boss—was breaking you down in ways that Natasha couldn’t fight with her fists.

But tonight, she’d find a way. One that didn’t involve any violence, though the temptation lingered just beneath the surface.

The door to the office finally swung open, and your boss entered, his voice loud and cocky as he spoke into the phone. Natasha remained hidden in the shadows, her sharp gaze locked on him as he crossed the room, completely unaware of her presence. His tone was sickeningly sweet, but Natasha could hear the sleaze dripping off every word.

“I told you, sweetheart, I’ll be home soon,” he was saying, his back turned to Natasha. “No, no, my wife’s out of town. It’ll just be us.” He chuckled, the sound grating in the silence. “You’re still thinking about this weekend, aren’t you? God, I can’t wait.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened as she listened. Of course, she already knew about the affair—she had dug into his life thoroughly. This man was every bit as pathetic as he seemed, and every word out of his mouth only confirmed what she’d suspected. His voice continued, smug and arrogant as he paced in front of his desk.

“You just keep that dress ready for me, alright? I’ll take care of everything.”

The call ended with another disgusting chuckle, and as he pocketed his phone, still grinning to himself, Natasha decided it was time. The darkness cloaked her presence until the perfect moment. She let the silence linger, just long enough to unnerve him. And then, with a soft but unmistakable voice, she shattered the calm.

“You sure you’ve got everything under control?”

The sound of her voice cut through the room like a knife, and he froze mid-step. He turned slowly, his eyes widening as he finally noticed her sitting calmly in the dark corner of his office, legs crossed, her face barely visible in the dim light coming from the window. Natasha tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but the intensity of her gaze was unmistakable.

For a second, he said nothing, his face draining of color as the realization dawned on him that someone had been watching—listening.

You boss stammered, his voice shaky as his eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. “Y-You’re … that… Black Widow…”

Natasha sat still and threatening in the chair in front of him, her piercing green eyes locked onto his face, her expression cold and calculated.

“Good,” she said, her voice low and steady, with a dangerous edge. “You know who I am.”

The man’s breath hitched as he took a small, trembling step back, the reality of the situation settling in. He had heard of her, of course. Everyone had. Black Widow. One of the Avengers. An assassin. The woman who had singlehandedly taken down entire criminal organizations and brought governments to their knees. And here she was, in his office—calm, composed, but undeniably lethal.

Your boss backed up against his desk, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge. “A-Are you here to kill me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha rolled her eyes, the question so typical, so small in comparison to what she was really after. “No,” she said flatly, her annoyance barely hidden behind her calm exterior.

“I-I have children,” he blurted out suddenly, as if that would somehow shield him from whatever fate he imagined was coming.

Natasha’s gaze hardened, her eyebrows furrowed, and her patience thinning. “I don’t want your children,” she said, her tone cold and dismissive.

“I-I didn’t—” he began to sputter, but Natasha cut him off with a raised hand, her eyes narrowing.

“Let’s skip the excuses,” she said, stepping closer. “I know exactly who you are too. I know what kind of boss you are, what kind of person you are, and I know what you’ve been putting (Y/n) through.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out. Natasha’s presence was suffocating, and he was utterly defenseless. He had never been in the presence of someone like her before, and it showed. His eyes flickered toward the door, and Natasha smirked.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, her tone laced with a quiet threat. “You’re going to stand there and listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

She leaned in even closer, her expression unchanging, cold, and stoic. Her calm demeanor was somehow more terrifying than if she'd raised her voice.

“(Y/n) is my girlfriend,” she began, her tone flat but every word carrying a heavy weight. “And what you're doing to her… all that work you’ve be been giving her… work that you are responsible for... It stops now.”

His eyes widened in fear, his breaths shallow and shaky. Natasha didn’t break eye contact, her gaze unwavering as she continued, “You’re overworking her. Taking advantage of her. And I don’t like it.”

She paused, letting her words settle before she delivered the final blow. “It’d be such a shame,” she added, her voice dropping an octave, “if your wife found out about the affair. Or maybe your kids—Matthew, Ellie, and little Amy—how do you think they’d feel knowing what kind of man their father really is?”

He flinched at the mention of his wife and children, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. It felt as though Natasha had pulled back a curtain, exposing him to the light of day, and he knew he had nowhere to hide. His face drained of color, his mouth opening slightly as he tried to find his words, but nothing came out. She had stripped him of every ounce of bravado, his secrets laid bare before her.

“I know everything,” she continued, unbothered by his panic. “I know that you sit here in your office all day playing some stupid card game on your computer, I know where you get your suits dry cleaned, I know what time you leave work, I know where you take your mistress. I know where your kids go to school, I know your wife’s phone number. I even know how much you’ve got stashed away in that offshore account of yours. 

He began to tremble, his entire body frozen under her scrutiny. He trembled under her gaze. Her voice, so stoic and emotionless, sliced through the air like a knife, sending chills down his spine.

“You see, I know everything,” Natasha stepped back, her posture still intimidating. “So, you’re going to go in tomorrow and lighten her workload. You’re going to give her a week off, maybe two. Make it two weeks. You’re going to treat her with the respect she deserves. Or… Well, I’m sure your loving family would be very interested in some of the things that I know.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to muster a response, but no words came. The weight of her presence bore down on him, suffocating any bravado he might have had. He could feel the heat of her anger simmering just below the surface, the unspoken threats swirling in the air around them.

“Am I clear?” Natasha asked, her voice steady and unyielding, cutting through the silence like a blade. She leaned slightly forward, her intense gaze locking onto his, piercing through the last remnants of his bravado. “Or do I need to clarify?”

He trembled visibly, the reality of her presence pressing down on him like an anvil. “N-No,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “I understand. I won’t… I’ll fix it.”

“Good,” she replied, her tone dropping slightly, the threat still lingering in the air. “Because I will be watching. I have no problem about coming back to pay you a visit if nothing changes.”

He nodded, sweat forming on his brow as he absorbed the weight of her words. The starkness of her promises echoed in his mind, and he couldn't shake the fear that if he didn’t comply, he wouldn’t just be facing consequences from his boss—but from someone who was far more formidable than he could ever imagine.

As she stepped out, adrenaline still coursing through her veins, a wave of satisfaction washed over her. She had made her point clear; the fear etched on your boss’s face replayed in her mind, a victory she hadn’t expected to feel so sweet. He had crumbled in an instant, leaving behind only a trembling shell, and that alone brought Natasha a certain degree of relief.

Yet, even as she walked down the deserted hallway, an urge to punch him lingered like a nagging itch. The thought of his arrogant smirk—now replaced by pure terror—satisfied her, but she couldn’t shake the image of him cowering. A part of her wishes she could have delivered a more physical message, a simple punch to the face would’ve sufficed. But as she rounded the corner, she reminded herself that she didn’t need to; it was a warning well delivered. He deserved every ounce of the panic she had instilled in him.

Natasha made it back home soon after, the familiar scent of home filling her nose, She could feel the weight of the day lift slightly, yet she knew it wasn’t over. Not until she held you close and assured you that everything would be alright.

As she made her way to the bedroom, Natasha paused for a moment at the door. She wanted to shield you from the harsh realities of your work life, to remind you how strong and valued you were. Most importantly, she needed to ensure that you would never feel overwhelmed or neglected again.

With a deep breath, Natasha pushed open the door. You lay curled up in bed, your face soft and peaceful. After getting dressed and ready for bed, Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. She knew she had to be the partner you deserved—strong, protective, and fiercely devoted.

“Hey, baby,” Natasha whispered softly, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath her fingers. “I’m home.”

As you stirred, your eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile broke across your face.

Natasha couldn’t help but smile back, her heart swelling at the sight of you. She wasted no time pulling you into her chest, wrapping her arms around your waist as she laid back against the mattress. You nestled your face into the crook of Natasha’s neck, the familiar scent of her skin calming you.

She could feel the tension of the day slowly melting away as she held you close.

The morning sun rose and spilled into the room, casting a warm glow that danced across the sheets. You stirred, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and found Natasha propped up on one elbow, a soft smile gracing her lips. The sight was a balm for your weary soul, and you couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Natasha said, her voice warm and inviting. “I’ll make us some coffee. Just relax.”

With that, she slipped out of bed. As Natasha disappeared into the kitchen, your gaze drifted to your phone lying on the bedside table. You reached for it, the screen lighting up with notifications. One message caught your eye—an all-too-familiar name that made your stomach churn. It was from your boss.

“(Y/n), I hope you’re feeling better. You have two weeks off to rest after your collapse. Take care of yourself.”

You stared at the message, your brow furrowing as you furrowed your eyebrows. You reread the text, half-expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something more familiar—something like the condescending, rushed notes you typically received from your boss. But there it was, plain as day.

It felt insane, almost surreal. He had never been this nice before. Your boss was notorious for pushing his employees to their limits, often leaving them feeling drained and unappreciated. The idea that he would suddenly show concern for your well-being felt foreign, like a mirage shimmering just beyond your reach. You thought back to the countless late nights spent at the office, the way he’d demanded more and more from you. Was this a ploy? Some sort of strategic move to save face after your collapse?

Your heart raced as you considered the implications. Two weeks off could be a gift—or it could be a way to push you out without having to deal with the consequences of his actions. The knot in your stomach tightened.

Natasha walked into the bedroom, the gentle clink of ceramic against wood breaking the silence as she placed a steaming mug of tea on the bedside table. The aromatic steam curled upward, mingling with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her brow slightly furrowed in concern.

You glanced up, the unexpected news still swirling in your mind. “I’ve… got two weeks off?” The words left your lips with disbelief, like you were trying to comprehend a twist in a plot that you never saw coming.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise crossing her features. “Oh, that… that’s a good thing, no?” she replied, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she took a sip of her coffee, clearly unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

“But why would he…” Your voice trailed off, your thoughts racing back to the myriad ways your boss had mistreated you, the way he thrived on making you do so much work, squeezing every ounce of productivity out of you until you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Then, you turned your gaze to Natasha, who seemed utterly at ease, wrapped in the comfort of the morning routine. But you knew all of Natasha’s faces and tendencies—knew the moments when she was holding something back, when the corners of her mouth hinted at secrets.

“Did you have something to do with this?”

Natasha’s expression shifted, the casual confidence fading just a fraction. She set her mug down slowly, the soft thud echoing in the stillness.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigning innocence, but you could see the flicker of something—was it guilt? Or perhaps a hint of pride?

“Natasha,” you pressed, searching your girlfriend’s eyes for the truth.

She knew she couldn’t keep anything from you; it was one of the many things she loved about her relationship with you. The honesty, the trust—it was a delicate balance, but one she cherished deeply.

“Fine, I… talked to him for a bit,” she admitted, the words slipping out with a reluctant sigh.

Your expression shifted, your brows knitting together as realization settled in. “Is that where you were last night, when you told me you’d be at HQ?”

Natasha winced slightly. “Yeah, that’s… that’s exactly where I was,” she confessed, knowing you could see right through her.

You sat up straighter, your curiosity piqued. “What did you say to him? Did you threaten him?”

Natasha bit her lip lightly, a tad bit shameful, trying to lighten the mood despite the serious undertones of the conversation. “Maybe a little,” she said, but her smile faded as she caught the concerned look on your face. “I just told him to treat you right. That you’re not some disposable employee he can push around. That’s all, really.”

“And what did he say?”

“He was… well, he was scared,” Natasha replied, her tone steady but tinged with frustration. “I told him that if he didn’t back off, I… wouldn’t expose his secrets.”

Your eyes widened, “You can’t just go around threatening people, Natasha. That’s not how this works!”

“I know, I know,” she said, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “But I couldn’t just sit back and watch him run you into the ground. You’re too important to me, (Y/n).”

Your heart softened at her words, your irritation ebbing away as you recognized the fierce protectiveness in your girlfriend’s voice. “I appreciate it, really,” you said, your tone more gentle now. “You could get in trouble for this, you know...”

“I don’t care,” Natasha shook her head, her eyes fierce with determination. “I didn’t like how he was treating you. Your health comes first. I can’t keep watching you exhaust yourself when you have no need to be.”

“Natasha, you can’t just fix everything with threats,” you replied, your voice soft yet firm, trying to find the right balance between gratitude and apprehension. “What if he retaliates?”

Natasha shrugged slightly, her confidence going strong. “He won’t. And I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. You’ve been working yourself to the bone, and it’s not okay.”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your heart as you listened to her. “But, I’m just—”

“Just what?” Natasha interrupted, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “You’re not just anything. You’re my girlfriend, I love you, and I care about you more than anything. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

Your cheeks flushed, the sincerity of her words wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You sighed, your heart swelling with gratitude as you looked back up at her.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Natasha settled beside you on the bed, leaning in to plant a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. Jokingly, she added, “You know, if you ever decide you don’t want to work again, I will happily provide for anything you need or want.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, but the hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “As if I would ever let you do that.”

She shrugged, feigning indifference, though the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her. “You think I wouldn’t make an excellent sugar mama? I could totally rock that role.”

“Right, because the world needs more dangerous assassins running a trust fund,” you shot back with another giggle.

“I think I’ll have you know, I’d be also be very happy woman if I got to spoil you everyday.”

“You already do.” You rolled your eyes again, smiling at her softly. “What were his… secrets?”

Natasha gave you a smug smile and shook her head, “He’s an unfaithful husband and he gambles a huge amount of money. That’s it, really. But he’s too scared to confront his family about it… I also think he was mostly scared I’d hurt him. Other than that, he’s just an asshole. I can’t believe someone like him was the reason behind you being so exhausted all the time. God, I really wanted to punch him.”

Your cheeks flushed with color as you threw your head back, laughter spilling from your lips, and in that moment, Natasha was reminded of just how beautiful you were when you let yourself unwind, free from work, worries and stress. The sound warmed her from the inside out, chasing away the shadows that had lingered from those long days when you had been too exhausted to find joy.

The worry Natasha had felt for you began to dissolve with each chuckle that escaped her lips, each teasing jab that came out with a playful glint in your eye. She couldn’t help but grin wider. She moved even closer, unable to resist the pull of your happiness. She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, moving her head to place a great many soft kisses against your cheek.

"I’ve missed this," she said softly, her smile unwavering as she gazed into your eyes, feeling as if the weight of the world had lifted, if only for a little while. "I’ve missed you."

You smiled at her.

And Natasha stared, captivated and unable to stop her lips from curving upwards. She promised to herself that she’d protect that smile of yours, that no one was ever going to take it away from you ever again, not while she was there.

navigation | n.r. masterlist

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HI ILY!!! i was wondering if u could do a argument fic likeeeee katsuki and reader got into a argument and they are both DISTRAUGHT bc they’re so corny and in love and hate fighting but the argument was bad and they’re oh so sad whatever whatever !! and katsuki has to make it up to them EEE !! PLEASE I LIVE EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE UR FANFICS !! LOVE U CASHHH🤍

operation : trouble in paradise !

katsuki tries to get his boyfriend privileges back..

EEEE TYSM AND I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS ASK !! Its my guilty pleasure like both parties hating to argue bc they love each other so much im so sorry that’s adorable. and again ty SOOO much !!! hope you enjoy, ive actually gotten a similar ask, so that one ill try to have that come out soon !

FEM READER, katsuki is melodramatic, argument, fluff fluff despite argument, 3rd year bk squad boys !, kissing, making up yipeee, reader likes flowers,lemme know if i missed sum else !

“she fuckin’ hates me.”

for the past ten minutes he’d barged into kirishima’s room, bakugou has been moping. wallowing, even.

“no she doesn’t, man..” kirishima reassured. for the umpteenth time, he’s honestly lost count. he’d tried putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder earlier but said boy had shrugged him off angrily, grumbling out a dramatic “don’t touch me.” despite being flopped face down on his bed.

“i know her better, kirishima. yes she does.” the blonde insists, voice muffled by the redhead’s pillows. kirishima sighs, patting his friends leg before making his way to his office chair across from the bed, ignoring the muffled grumbles bakugou lets out.

“how bout you just..go apologize ?”

“i already told you i can’t. she—”

“yeah, she hates you. got it.” kirishima finishes his friends sentence, causing the blond to groan. “look dude, you’ll never know unless you try. you’ve been together for ages now.”

“a year.” katsuki corrects, he purposely forgets to mention he knows exactly how many months it has been too. kirishima nods excitedly, trying to get him out of his frankly sad state. “yeah ! so, this shouldn’t be anything man. arguments happen all the time, no matter how much you love each other.”

katsuki feels his ears burn at the word love on his friends lips, he’s told you he loved you of course. but it still felt weird to acknowledge it.

he turns just enough for his scowl to be visible to his friend, who sends him an encouraging smile.

“so what the fuck do i do then ?” kirishima grins wider, sharp teeth on display. “there we go, that’s more like ya, dude !” he exclaims. he quickly shuffles to grab a notepad strewn onto his messy desk (kirishima’s desk was so messy it made katsuki itch sometimes, a shiver almost passes through him whenever he sees the state it’s in)

kirishima drops onto the floor, placing the notepad onto his mattress and scribbling, with a pen katsuki has no idea where he fished out, a messy “operation: get your bf privileges back !!!!!!” bakugou fixes kirishima with a dead look, the other only tilts his head, still cheerful.

“what ?”

“what the fuck is this, kirishima.”

kirishima scoffs at the blonde’s dead tone, “listen man, you wanna win your girlfriend back or not ?!” bakugou squints at him, hard. but only let’s out a loud sigh. kirishima takes that as his answer and with a nod continues writing down notes.

katsuki groans to himself, looking down at his friend scribbling down his grand plan, and he better hope it works.

maybe you should call him..

no, you won’t. it was his fault you were like this anyway.

..but maybe you went a bit too far..?

ugh. you groan, rolling around in your bed. you’d tried to distract yourself by going through your tiktok feed but it seemed the world was against you or your fbi agent hated your guts. your feed was either overly cutesy couples content that made you miss your angry blond, or break up videos that made you miss him even more.

ugh. you shove your head even harder in your pillows.

you’re really trying to hold your ground, because you want katsuki to know he’d hurt your feelings, but now that you think about it you don’t even remember what you’d argued about. it was petty for sure, you’re about 80% sure it was a petty argument.

maybe you should—

you shake your head, steeling your nerves. so what if it was a dumb argument ?! that didn’t mean he could get away with everything!

“uuuugh,” you groan out loud, you miss your katsuki.

a knock at your door startles you. it must be mina, you’d texted her earlier that you were mad at your boyfriend and she’d told you that she “excepted all the deets of what his dumbass did this time as SOON as i get back !!!!” and you were waiting, maybe venting about it could make you feel better and less dramatic.

you open your door expecting to see your overly excited best friend. but instead—

flowers, almost whacking you in the face you might add, are shoved in your face before you can get a word out. you squeak in shock, they’re pretty though, your favorites. and you know only one person who knows what your favorite flowers are.

“wh-katsuki ?!”

and there he is, red faced and angry. scowl on his face and bouquet of pretty flowers in hand.

you can’t tear your eyes away from him, he can’t keep his eyes in one spot—flying from you occasionally to your door to the flowers and repeat. he blinks, you blink.

“here.” he grunts, waving the flowers towards you. “f’r you.” he glances at you.

“o-oh !” you exclaim suddenly, whisking the flowers towards yourself. the bouquet is big, it’s definitely a bit bigger than your head. katsuki searches your face to gauge your reaction“i—uhm! thank you..” you utter shyly, katsuki grunts. he shoves his hands in his pockets the moment you’ve gripped the bouquet, kicking at something you can’t see on the floor.

your heart skips a beat. tentatively, you lean against the door “didn’t take you for a flower guy..”

he scoffs, kicking the toe of his sneakers against the floor “‘m not.. but you like these, right ?”

trick question. he knows you do, you mentioned in passing these were your favorites, unless you suddenly decided you didn’t like these anymore. then he’s fucked. but he decides to continue despite the worry growing in his lower belly, the plan was already a go now.

“i—uhm, listen..” your boyfriend fumbles, he throws his head back and groans when his words won’t come out right. you give him a tiny smile, his eyes soften just a bit.

“i fucked up, okay ?” he admits, scratching at his nape “shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, or whatever..” you can tell he’s beyond embarrassed. he’d melt if he could get any redder, he keeps scratching and won’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time and katsuki who’s always the loudest in the room can barely manage a mumble. you know he means it though, he never did anything he didn’t feel like doing. you wait for him to continue and he looks at you then.

“i don’t ever like arguing with you. ever.” he insists “so jus..forgive me, kay ?” he finishes quietly. your heart jumps and leaps and you can’t stand acting cold anymore. you walk a bit closer to him, the flowers block you from fully being close to him.

katsuki’s eyes are wide as you lean in to kiss right next to his lips, you laugh at his bewildered expression and his eyes soften when he snaps out of it. he rolls his eyes, you smile wider.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry too. i don’t like arguing with you either..” you admit, katsuki reaches for your hand, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, you give it to him and he grips it tight. then he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, it’s a sweet little apology kiss that turns a bit too passionate after a while, and you pull him towards you and into your room away from prying eyes. katsuki kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you closer by your waist.

“guess i gotta—thank shitty hair..” he mumbles in between kisses, “an’ i owe him twenty bucks.”

you make a noise against his lips and pull away, raising a brow and holding his shoulders when he tries to lean in to kiss you again. “what’s that mean ?”

your boyfriend huffs “told shitty hair i’d give him twenty bucks if his shitty plan worked.”

“plan, what plan ?” you ask, katsuki squints at you, a grumbling noise comes from his throat, almost a whine.

“yer really gonna make me spell it out aren’t you..” he mutter bitterly, shoving his head in your neck. he continues, “shitty hair helped me come up with a plan to make you not mad at me anymore. i told him it wouldn’t work, he said it would, and we bet on it.”

you laugh in disbelief, katsuki chomps at your neck to silence you, squeezes his arms tighter around your stomach to make you wheeze, but you can’t stop laughing. “that’s so cute !”

“shaddup.” he growls in response. you muffle your giggles in his shoulder. katsuki grumbles some more and you run your hands up and down his back.

“well then,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his nape, his arms around you tighten. “i guess we’ll both have to thank kiri then.”

[mooooonnnzz]

I saw your earlier post on Platonic fics and Im a sucker for them so here u go : father figure stanford headcannons maybe takes place after he comes back from the portal, reader is an adventurous spirit that works at the shack and maybe secretly helped stan get his brother back? Idk im just throwing things here lol

You Know I Love You Still

Stanford x daughter!reader

💗 stanford dad hc!!

💗 i literally saw the request it and started writing and got a lil carried away 😭 its like half story half hc? if that makes sense

💗 requests r so open rn! i def dont have any fav requests… (anything platonic or familial will be the first ones i write i LOVE those types of requests)

💗 the age of the reader is young like 16/17? ik that lowkey contradicts with the time line but wtv STANFORD DAD HC!!

💗 it’s a little bit of everything? like it’s not only just reader and stanford, the twins r also included in some scenarios and also stan

💗 a big happy family 😭

💗 fem reader gulp i completely didnt realize until i was done that i used she/her when referring to the reader

💗 next fic will use gender neutral pronouns I SWUEAR!!

💗2k words

💗 i apologize for rhe misspell and mistakes i didnt catch in advance

Working together with your Uncle Stan to build the portal to bring your dad back to the right dimension was tiresome. Nights were sleepless and many of them were spent in the underground lab, where you and Stan did everything possible to assemble the portal. Trying to keep such a secret away from the twins and Soos was unexpectedly hard. The knowledge of hiding someone so vital to you and to your Uncle Stan was weighing down on you and him. Then came the day where his awaited arrival was promised. You could barely sleep that night. You thought of so many different possibilities and scenarios of how you would greet him. Would he remember you? Did he ever miss you? Does he even love you?!

The next day came in like a tornado and before you knew it, you were protectively standing in front of the button; trying your absolute hardest to prevent the twins from pressing the button.

“Why do you guys want to stop the portal so badly!” You yelled over the loud swirling wind that emitted from the portal. “Because it’s dangerous!” Dipper retorted, using his arm to shield him from the debris whizzing past him. “G-Grunkle Stan isn’t who he says he is!” Dipper said, stepping closer to you.

“Whatever you guys saw or heard isn’t what you think it is! Please, you need to believe me.” You begged, your eyes brimming with tears. You’ve worked so hard to get this portal up and running and you weren’t going to let Dipper or anyone stop you from being able to see your dad.

Soos came up from behind and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry, dude.” He picked you up and took you away from the button. “Soos, no!” You thrashed around his hold. You pound your fists against his arms, hoping it’ll loosen his grip on you but nothing you did worked. No matter how much you begged and fought against him, he didn’t budge. He just held you closer to him, muttering ‘I’m Sorry’ under his breath.

“This all stops now!” Dipper raised his hand, palm flattened out, ready to push the button when Stan appeared at the doorway. “Don’t touch that button!”

He’s hunched forward, hand leaning on the frame of the doorway as he pants. Relief washes over you upon seeing Stan. Silence fills the room for a minute and all you can hear is your heart hammer against your ribcage. Stan walks towards Dipper, beckoning him to not press the button.

“If you just let me explain—“ He’s cut off by his watch repeatedly beeping. Suddenly the ground begins to shake.

The portal powers up and the circle enlarges. The electricity spazzes and travels throughout the room, creating streaks of electrical power. Your feet lift off the ground and soon everyone’s floating up in the air. The wind is fierce and it’s whipping through every direction, pushing you towards the wall.

Dipper yells at Mable to turn off the portal before it causes anymore damage. She tugs herself closer to the button using a stray cable and while she wraps herself around the neck holding up the button, Stan is begging her to listen to him and to not press the button. He’s soon tackled by Soos who pushes him away from Mable. They all fight with each other and you’re watching with a bated breath.

The portal pulses with power, sending you back first into the wall. Stan and Dipper bicker back and forth and Mable is torn with the decision of either believing her brother or her Grunkle. She lowers her hand, eyes closed and you're almost convinced she’s going to press the button when she lets go of the button. She floats up with her arms raised. “Grunkle Stan, I believe you.” She says.

“Mable, are you crazy?! We’re all gonna—!”

The world flashes white and you're immediately knocked out. You awaken to yourself plummeting face first down to the floor. You groan, pushing yourself up with one hand and the other wiping off the dust on your face. Looking around you can see your family scattered around the room, each of them slowly waking up from whatever happened and stumbling back to their feet.

Your head quickly whips towards the portal and your heart lurches into your throat upon seeing a figure step out of it. He stands still, staring straight ahead as he takes off his hood and goggles. And what hid behind them was your father.

After the initial shock of meeting the one behind the three books and the reveal of him being related to Stan was pushed aside, you presented yourself with the help of Stan. “H-Hi, Dad.” You awkwardly greet yourself.

His eyes stop on you and he freezes, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly ajar. He takes a minute to process the absurdity of the situation before he’s snapping back to consciousness. He blinks once, his mouth stuttering as he finds the right words to say. He then blinks again, stepping a cautious step towards you. Your name softly spills out of his mouth and your heart soars hearing your Dad finally utter your name again.

You take a step forward and then another and another until you’re face to face with him. Being closer to him allowed you to see how much he has aged since the last time you saw him. “Dad…” You whisper, throwing yourself into him.

A light wheeze escapes his mouth from the sudden impact of your body crashing on him. Once he recovers, his arms are quickly wrapped around you, hugging you with so much warmth and love you almost sobbed right then and there.

He snuggled his face against your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he missed so dearly while he was away. “We have so much to catch up on.” You say so quietly that he almost lost your words if it wasn’t for you being directly near his ear. He hums in affirmation, cherishing the long awaited reunion with his daughter.

“I feel like this is another part where one of us faints again.” Mable says in utter disbelief at the scene that unfolded in front of her. “Ohoh!” Soos laughed out. “I’m so on it, dudes.” As if on command his eyes roll to the back of his head and he faints flat on his back.

HEADCANON TIME!!

• You weren’t really expecting to talk to him much due to Stan wanting to talk to his brother, but after their fight, he came looking for you. When he found you, you were sitting on the couch that was outside on the porch. You were reading a book you recently purchased from the bookstore. Nose deep in your book, you failed to realize Ford standing beside you. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. Quietly he asked, “Is there room for one more?”

• The night was spent with the two of you getting to know each other. From your favorite color to your favorite show, what food you like to eat and so on. Ford wanted to fully understand and know you as a person. He wanted to make up all the years he lost with you.

• The next day, you awoke to the smell of your favorite breakfast food being cooked. With haste you pushed your blanket off of you and slipped on your slippers and sped off into the kitchen where Ford was buttering the pan. He looked over to you and flashed you a smile. “I made you your favorite.” He said, motioning over to the table where he laid out your breakfast. “You didn’t have to do this.” You scratched your cheek, a small laugh of surprise leaving you. “I’m just doing what I always dreamed of doing.” He shoveled out his breakfast onto his plate using a spatula. “How’s the food, kiddo?” He asks, placing the pan and spatula on the dirty side of the sink. “Actually pretty good for someone who hasn't been in this dimension for over a decade!” You jest, taking another delicious bite from your breakfast. Ford jokingly rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and sat down on his chair. “Already poking fun at me.” He said, shaking his head.

• Stanford knew he had to focus on his projects, he had so many things he left unfinished that he'd been dying to get his hands on the minute he stepped foot into his dimension. But he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from you. He loved seeing you interact with the twins, he loved watching how pieces of his personality shone through you. Like the way you’re so meticulous with where you put things, or how you were forever curious about the things around you, and even the abundance of questions you’d mutter to yourself as you discovered something new. That’s all of him right there, in front of him and he couldn’t grasp such a thought that you were his!

• He finds himself gazing upon baby photos Stan took of you when you were younger. Even if he’s angry at his twin currently, he’s forever grateful that he documented such beautiful memories in a scrapbook. “Y’know, I used to tell stories about you to her.” A shriek leaves Ford. He jumps forward, the scrapbook tumbling down his lap and onto the floor. “You idiot! Be careful.” Stan sneered, kneeling down to the floor to pick up the scrapbook. “Stanley!” Ford leans his head back, trying to regain his composure. “You scared me!” He says. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Stan waves him off, grabbing the scrapbook and tucking it in between his arms. They stand in awkward silence, eyes darting around the place uneasily. “Did…” Ford starts, shattering the silence. “Did she like the stories you told of me?” Stan smiles fondly, nodding his head. “She loved them. She thought you were some stupid amazing superhero, no matter what I told her.” Ford furrowed his brows. “Wait, what do you mean by no matter what you told her?” Stan nervously laughed. “Hey, why don’t you keep looking at these photos! Wait here, look at this one. Haha! She’s trying to eat her toes, isn’t that adorable?” “Stanley.”

• Outings between the two of you were very common. He loved being tugged around the town of Gravity Falls by you as you pointed at various different shops and locations. You told him the reasons why you hated them or loved them, and some were tied to stories that happened within the summer. He seriously questioned how you and the twins survived so many times where you were just so close to death. The mall was a place where you and him resided the most. With the money he took from Stan, he paid for almost everything you wanted. Entering the shack with so many bags was a shock to everyone. “Woah! Did you buy the whole mall?” Mable jokes, grabbing one of the bags to help you with the load. “Basically,” you laughed, instructing Mable to rally Soos and Dipper to have a little haul of what you bought. Stan watched with a raised brow as you stumbled into the living room with Mable following closely behind. “Where did you get all the money to buy her all of that?” Stan asks. “Just stole some money from some hobo.” Ford said, walking into the living room to join in on the haul. Stan didn’t understand what he said and opened the cash register. When he saw all the money he had stored the day before gone, it all clicked.

• Adventures out in the woods is a must. Gathering the twins and your dad, all four of you venture out into the woods in hopes to find something new. “Why couldn’t Grunkle Stan tag along with us?” Mable asked as she kneeled down to pluck a flower from the dirt. “Because he’s being a wet towel.” Dipper muttered, scribbling down a rough drawing of the flower Mable was picking in a book you bought him. “So what kind of anomalies you three stumbled upon?” Ford questioned. You and the twins began to dump everything onto him, from when you started seeing them to when Dipper and Mable came. Ford couldn’t truly focus on what they were saying, mostly because it was a jumbled excited mess of words, but partially because he was astonished with the trio in front of him. They went through so much and yet they’re still so headstrong. He could definitely see a little bit of him in Dipper and Mable.

• Stan would find you and Ford fallen asleep on the couch or in his lab, all huddled up together and completely knocked out. Snores filled the room and he found it amusing that you and him both snores the same. Videos and photos were definitely taken by Mable.

• Ford would tell stories of his adventures in another dimension to you. Stemming from how he started from the ground up to him getting banned from many other dimensions for stealing parts. “You’re not so different from Uncle Stan,” You laughed, shaking your head. “What! It was only a few…hundred dimensions.”

• There’s times where you’d wake up in a cold sweat, afraid that your Dad finally coming back was just a painful dream your brain played on you. But when you would get ready to find him, you’d step on his stomach or back. “Ough!” Ford groaned out in pain. Being suddenly woken up from his sleep, he sat up, looking around confused. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor?” You sat back down on your bed, pulling the blankets over you. “Is there a problem with me sleeping on the floor?” Ford asks, looking at you with squinted eyes. “No, no.” You laid back down on your bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m better now,” You say, somewhat amused with Ford sleeping on the floor beside your bed. “Goodnight, I love you.” You brush your fingers playfully across his face to annoy him. He shoves your fingers away from his face, huffing out. “Goodnight,” He shuffles to his side, looking up to you with a small smile. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[1-800-kami]

R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it. 

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls. 

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip. 

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out. 

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin. 

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too. 

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long. 

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now. 

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover. 

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you. 

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

[starlightkun]

❥・word count: 17.2k ❥・warnings: cursing, suggestive but no smut (i think that tag is on all my sungchan fics at this point), also i do talk about biting him probably too much, there’s one scene where i have to refer to distance and i use miles im sorry it’s the filthy american in me (convert to km if you must but it’s really not that important) ❥・genre: meet-ugly (like a meet-cute but bad), strangers to lovers, fluff and more fluff good god, forced proximity trope (long car trip, friend group vacation in a cabin, etc.) ❥・author’s note: send help the sungchan brainrot is terminal

“I just don’t trust people that are that hot—Sorry.”

“Are you going to the cabin next week?” Karina asked you, refilling her drink as the two of you chatted in the kitchen of Donghyuck and Mark’s place. The former was throwing a “small get-together” tonight for his birthday, which was already shaping up to be more like the parties you’d attended in undergrad. He’d also invited a hopefully actually small number of your closer friends to spend two weeks in his family’s cabin starting the following Friday.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you nodded, opening the fridge to nose around in there for something to mix with your alcohol.

“Do you know who all he invited?”

“I think the usual, right?” You had secured some cranberry juice and seltzer, and brought them back out triumphantly. “Didn’t he text the details to everyone in a group chat? Check who’s in it.”

“Let me see…” She muttered, scrolling through her phone. “You, me, Hyuck, Mark, Ning, Jeno, Jaemin, Shotaro, Anton…”

“Unless it’s a mansion in the woods, it sounds like half of us will be sleeping on the floor,” you scoffed.

“There’s one person in here that I don’t have saved.” She frowned. “Do you?”

You looked at it on your own phone. “There’s two people I don’t have saved. One of them must be Anton, I just met him the other day when Taro brought him around to… whatever, I don’t even remember now.”

“I don’t have the 512 number.”

You saved the other unknown number as Anton. “I don’t have the 512 number either.”

Karina giggled. “Mysterious.”

“Probably another guy Hyuck and Mark met playing pickup.” You shrugged, following her back out to the living room. “I feel like that’s how they meet all their new friends these days.”

“Rina! Y/N!” Ningning suddenly appeared in front of the two of you, grabbing your other friend’s wrist. “Come dance with me!”

Karina looked over at you. “Y/N?”

“Just topped up.” You lifted your drink. “Maybe later. Have fun, guys.”

As they disappeared into the middle of the room, you drifted off to the side, finding a wall to lean against. You took slow sips of your drink, eyes passing over the crowd. You didn’t mind standing by yourself until either your friends were done dancing and found you again, or you spotted someone you’d rather talk to before then.

“Y/N!” Your voice was called from behind you, and you turned around to greet the birthday boy with a wide smile.

“Hyuck!” You went to hug him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night!”

“Because you’ve been hiding in the kitchen,” he teased. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you out here.”

You rolled your eyes as you drew back from the hug. “Whatever, I’m here now. Are you having a good birthday?”

“Great!” He beamed. It was then that you noticed he had someone with him, a tall guy hovering awkwardly behind him. Donghyuck went to introduce him, “This is Sungchan, by the way. He also lives in the complex; Mark and I met him playing pickup.”

Of course.

“Sungchan, this is my friend Y/N,” Hyuck then gestured to you.

You nodded to him politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled back, a bright, heart-stopping smile. You held onto your drink a little tighter, with both hands.

“Hey! Renjun!” Donghyuck suddenly yelled out. “No killing people on the premises! Choke Jisung outside!”

He took off into the crowd, leaving you with his new friend.

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Jungchan, but I’ve got to find my friends.” You slipped away before he could say anything else.

Karina and Ningning were still dancing, and while you briefly debated joining them, you decided against it, heading back to your safe haven instead: the kitchen. It was blissfully empty when you got in there, and you started picking at the bowls of snacks mindlessly.

“That was incredible.” Someone snickered, startling you into dropping a chip onto the floor.

You picked it up, glowering at the newcomer as you went to go throw away the ruined chip into the garbage can. “What are you talking about, Anton?”

“His name is Sungchan, by the way.” He was still laughing, hopping up onto the counter by the bowls of snacks. “Not Jungchan. I happened to have been lucky enough to have overheard that.”

“Oops.” You said flatly, well aware that you didn’t sound very sorry.

“But I’m totally going to use that.”

“You know him from pickup basketball too, I presume?”

“Yup.” He tossed a cheeseball up and caught it in his mouth. “He’s not very good at shooting, but he’s tall, so he’s alright at guarding.”

“Good for him. Or not, I don’t know.”

“So let’s say, hypothetically, I was eavesdropping on the entire conversation—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Of course.” He grinned. “He said like two words to you, and they were barely even hello. Why did you run away like that?”

You sighed, topping off your drink again. After taking a sip, musing over how best to phrase it, you finally decided on, “I just don’t trust people that are that hot—Sorry.”

Anton cocked his head curiously at you. “Who hurt you?”

“Nobody, god.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic and for what?”

“Fun and profit, mostly.”

“You hurt Sungchan’s feelings,” Donghyuck declared, blotting out the sun above you.

You closed your book on your thumb to deal with this. You had been reclining on a chair at your apartment complex’s pool reading in peace when your friend appeared out of nowhere. Outside the pool fence you could see his roommate, and two more of your mutual friends, Jaemin and Jeno. Jeno had a basketball under his arm, which made sense, the courts were right next to the pool, they were probably already heading there when they saw you and decided to detour over here to… interrogate you? Harass you?

“Who? What? When?” You squinted up at Donghyuck in confusion.

“My friend. Last night.”

“The tall one? How? Because I didn’t want to talk about the weather or whatever with him?”

“Apologize,” he demanded, crossing his arms. “And get his name right this time. It’s Sungchan. Not Jungchan.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in your chair. “This is exactly what I was telling Anton last night, you know. I don’t trust people that are that hot because even if they don’t do anything to abuse their hotness directly, or on purpose, other people will just do things for them anyway.”

“He’s the nicest person I know. Hotness be damned. Apologize.”

“No.”

“Really? This is the moral hill that you’re willing to die on?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a true martyr, Y/N,” Hyuck said sarcastically. “The Second Coming herself.”

“The nicest person you know? Really?” You questioned doubtfully.

“Really. And you were mean to him,” Donghyuck confirmed.

“Including Shotaro?”

“Including Taro.”

“Mark?”

“Mark’s my best friend. Doesn’t mean he’s the nicest person I know,” he retorted.

“Jeno?”

“Literally saw him steal candy from a baby yesterday.”

You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Jisung. Same thing.”

“I’m not apologizing to your friend,” you declared, opening your book again.

“This is the stupidest line you’ve drawn in the sand yet.”

“I’m not going out and bullying him! All I said was that I don’t trust hot people!”

“Flaw in your logic: You’re friends with me,” he pointed out smugly.

“Think on that one again, Hyuck,” you replied snidely, looking down at your book as if you were trying to get back to reading.

“Rude.” He looked back at the other three guys waiting for him, apparently getting an idea. “What about Jeno? He’s like, ridiculously good-looking.”

“I like him just fine. I just don’t trust him, or what people will do for him because he’s stupidly attractive,” you argued.

“It sounds exhausting to be you,” he huffed, turning on his heel and leaving the pool deck.

Later that afternoon, you pulled yourself up out of the pool, heading back towards your chair. Grabbing your towel, you wrapped it around yourself to start drying off before heading back to your apartment. You saw someone walking towards you out of the corner of your eye as you were digging through your bag for your phone.

“Hi.” It was Donghyuck’s tall friend from last night, in workout gear rather than swim trunks. Obviously not here to use the pool.

“Hi.” You wiped a drop of water off your phone screen that had fallen from your nose onto it.

“Do you have a second?”

“Sure.”

He scratched the back of his neck as he focused an apologetic smile on you. “Did I do something or say something? At Donghyuck’s place? Because I’m really—”

“No.”

“—sorry if I did—Wait what?” The smile dropped from his face.

“You didn’t do anything or say anything. You were perfectly nice,” you answered honestly.

“Then it really was what you told Anton?” He asked in disbelief.

Of course, Anton must have told him what you said.

“Look, Sungchan, I’m sorry, I just don’t trust really attractive guys right off the bat.”

“I haven’t done anything to earn your distrust other than—”

“—other than being hot, yeah.” You shrugged. “Even if you really are nice, intentionally or not, people treat you differently just by virtue of you being stupidly hot. Gets in your head, whether you think it has or not.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Not at all.”

“How are you any different then?”

“Different than who?”

“You say that people treat me differently because I’m, in your words, ‘stupidly hot.’” He put the phrase air quotes. “That’s exactly what you’re doing right now.”

“How am I treating you different by not immediately falling at your feet? I don’t do that for average looking guys either.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do.”

“Was I rude to you last night? Bitchy? Outright mean or nasty?” You ticked the adjectives off on your fingers. “No, the most you can accuse me of was being a bit curt. And getting your name wrong, that really was my bad.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to slip your sandals back on and shoulder your tote bag.

“Look, you’re not entitled to my time, attention, or to me,” you told him firmly.

“I didn’t say I was,” he said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“You’ve taken it as a personal affront that I didn’t want to idly chitchat with you last night.”

“I’m just… confused,” Sungchan sighed.

“You’re nice to look at, I’m sure you’re not a complete dud to talk to, it’s probably not torture to make small talk with you at a party. So people do,” you tried to walk him through it. “But it’s not mean for someone to not want to talk to you.”

He was silent again, that same pensive, troubled look on his face, and you found yourself in better spirits than you had been last night.

“This was fun. I would say we should do it again, but I’m afraid I would make you cry and then Hyuck would be really mad at me.” You chuckled, grabbing your keys from your bag. “So, goodbye, Sungchan.”

You were relaxed on your couch that night with a tub of ice cream when a violent banging came at your front door. Pausing the movie you were watching, you rushed to answer it, thinking that it must be the police, or some other kind of emergency. Instead, it was Donghyuck and Mark. You looked at Donghyuck incredulously, the one who had been doing the knocking.

“What is your fucking problem?” He said in lieu of a greeting, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

“What did I do now? Allegedly?” You matched his tone, watching as he started pacing your entryway.

“You know what you did.” Mark was calmer, reminding you of a disappointed parent as he looked at you, his hands on his hips.

“You broke him!” Donghyuck declared.

“Who—Oh, Sungchan?” You finally connected the dots.

“Who else’s soul have you ripped out of their chest and stomped on today?”

“He sought me out,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms.

“And you couldn’t have been a human being and talked to him?”

“We talked. From what you’re saying, it sounds like he didn’t like what I had to say.”

“He’s catatonic!”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Only slightly. But he’s not well.”

You scoffed, “If one conversation with me is enough to make him spiral, sounds like he had some other stuff going on before I opened my mouth.”

“So you refuse to take responsibility? For any of this?” Donghyuck regarded you wide, crazed eyes, looking like he was at the end of his rope.

“You’re asking me to what? Fix him?” You snorted in disbelief. “I don’t Mommy grown men, sorry.”

“You are infuriating.” He pointed at you accusatorily. “The party I could’ve let slide—”

“No you couldn’t have, you found me literally the next day demanding that I apologize for not wanting to talk to him,” you spat back.

“Not for that! I’m not going to hold a gun to your head and force you to make small talk with him,” he groaned. “I meant the stuff you were telling Anton, in the kitchen. He heard you.”

“All I said was that I don’t trust people that are that hot. Nothing to have a goddamn mental breakdown over!”

“And he wouldn’t have, if you had just, I don’t know, apologized for the misunderstanding and moved on! But no, you have to take everything to this moral extreme! Honestly, I’m finding it hard to remember what’s even likeable about you in the first place right now,” Donghyuck ranted, running his hands through his hair.

“Hyuck, that was a bit far,” Mark finally spoke up again, stepping forward.

“You really want to die on this hill, Y/N?” Donghyuck just went around his roommate, looking you in the eye. “Then fine. Don’t bother coming on the trip.”

“Hyuck, man, come on—” Mark called after him, but Donghyuck had already stormed out of your apartment.

You watched the empty doorway after him, chest heaving as all the words you’d exchanged finally caught up to you. Looking to your friend that you had been left with, you asked quietly, “Do you think I'm in the wrong, Mark?”

He tilted his head back and forth regretfully. “I think… you’re being a bit abrasive.”

“You agree with Hyuck,” you deadpanned.

“Not entirely. I don’t think he should’ve been throwing Sungchan at you so hard. He should’ve known you weren’t going to take it well, which is probably why he did it in such a weird way.”

“What?”

“He was trying to set you up with Sungchan. But knowing how… you… are, he thought he had to do it with some uh, ‘finesse.’” Mark shrugged one shoulder. “Sungchan wasn’t all that hurt after the party, really. A bit bummed that you brushed him off, sure, but he would’ve bounced back. He’s hard to knock down, literally and metaphorically. Hyuck demanded that you go ‘apologize’ to him so that you’d talk to him again. Same thing with Sungchan talking to you at the pool today, Hyuck told him to.”

“Does Sungchan know that Hyuck’s been trying to set us up this whole time?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“So to him, this has been Hyuck setting him up with, apparently, the biggest bitch he knows,” you winced. No wonder he was so confused earlier.

“I mean…” Mark trailed off sheepishly. “He should’ve told you.”

“And I should’ve been fucking normal,” you groaned, rubbing your face.

“An argument can be made for that, yes.”

“What apartment is Sungchan in?”

According to Mark, Sungchan went on a jog every morning at 8:00, and was usually back by 10:00, so you made sure to knock on his front door at 10:15, just in case.

Sungchan opened the door, wiping sweat from his face with a towel as he spoke, “Anton, I thought we agreed on eleven…”

He trailed off when he opened his eyes and saw who was actually on his doorstep.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you greeted him.

“Oh. Hi, Y/N.” He dropped his hand from his face. In the background, you could hear music playing, and smell food being cooked.

“Uhm, are you busy? I can leave, sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He stepped back, opening the door wider and gesturing you in. You stepped into his apartment with a polite, grateful nod. It looked like he had been in the middle of making breakfast, a blender out on his counter, various fruits on a cutting board, and ingredients sizzling in a pan. He went to pause the music on his phone, and stirred the food that was in the pan. He pointed to one of the stools that was at the bar attached to the kitchen counter. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, thanks,” you shook your head. Shouldn’t take that long. “I just wanted to apologize. I was abrasive, and shouldn’t have been using you to try to draw some moral line in the sand as part of an argument with my friend.”

Sungchan nodded. “Thanks. You did have a point, about the party. I wasn’t used to people not wanting to talk to me, it was a weird experience. But you’re right, I wasn’t entitled to your time.” He went back to the cutting board, chopping up a banana and depositing it into the blender. “Besides, I’m sure you have guys come up to you all the time and you just want to be left alone. No worries.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“People treat you different when you’re stupidly hot, right?” He shrugged, scooping some blueberries into the blender next.

“I wasn’t talking about myself…”

Sungchan just grinned and shrugged again. “So I guess I’ll see you at Hyuck’s family cabin then?”

“No. I was uninvited,” you informed him quietly.

“What? Why?”

“Because of how… poorly I handled this.”

Sungchan’s eyes widened with horror. “What? That’s crazy. I didn’t ask him—”

“Don’t worry, I totally get why he did it. His choice was between the nicest guy he knows—” you pointed to Sungchan, “—and the biggest bitch he knows—” you then pointed to yourself, “—who is a compulsive vibe-harsher. I’d pick you too.”

“Don’t tell me he called you—”

“My words,” you assured him.

“I’ll talk to him. No way you should be uninvited over a misunderstanding like this.” He flashed you an easy-going smile. “I mean, we’ve already worked it out. No hard feelings, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, offering a small smile back. “But really, Sungchan, you don’t have to. He’ll think I just apologized to you to get invited back on the trip.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then there we go,” he said as if it were already decided. “I’ll talk to him.”

[hyuck: you’re un-uninvited]

[hyuck: sungchan will pick you up at 2:00 on friday]

[you: why is he picking me up???]

[hyuck: you’re the only two who need to leave late on friday. the rest of us are heading up in the morning]

[you: i have my own car??]

[hyuck: you’ve got a shitty sedan with 200,000 miles on it that can barely make it over a speed bump. you’re not making it up a mountain]

[hyuck: consider this your exposure therapy]

Sure enough, Friday at 2:00 p.m., there was a knock at your front door, Sungchan on the other side.

“Hey,” you greeted him, stepping back to grab your small rolling suitcase. “You really didn’t have to come get me, I could’ve met you down at your car.”

“I don’t mind. You need any help with your bags?” He offered, watching you also shoulder a duffel bag as you tried to wedge your memory foam pillow under your other arm.

“Where’s your stuff?” You questioned, noticing his empty hands.

“I already packed it in the car.” He reached for your suitcase, and you willingly let him take it. He held another hand out, and you gave him your duffel bag as well. Without even asking, he picked up the tote that was at your feet, too, leaving you with just your pillow and phone. “You got everything?”

You looked around your apartment, thinking hard. “Mmm… I’m pretty sure.”

“Phone, wallet, keys, charger?”

“Check.”

“Pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, other toiletries?”

“Check.”

“Let’s do it,” he grinned, leading the way to the front door.

[sungchan: picked y/n up! gonna get some gas on our way out of town if anybody has last minute snack requests. eta 5:00 pm!]

[jeno: 👍]

As some of the others’ snack orders came pouring in, you got one text separately.

[hyuck: be. nice.]

After filling up and triple-checking to make sure you had bought everyone’s food, you and Sungchan were back in his car, a modest-size SUV. He plugged his phone in to charge, then handed it to you.

“Here, you navigate.” The directions to the cabin were already pulled up and started.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You tried to give it back. “I yap and nap.”

“It’s like five turns total for three hours.” He refused to take it back, starting the car and peeling off. “You can be passenger princess all you want. I even know the first two to get onto the highway on my own. Just need the exit number, the road name, and the house number.”

“Oh god, okay…” You sank down into the passenger seat, clutching his phone with two hands.

“Are you really that nice?” You asked once you had been on the highway for a while. Sungchan and you had been taking turns on aux—right now he had something playing—and there was a comfortable lull in conversation, but you couldn’t help the question that had been nagging at the back of your mind the entire time.

“There is no way for me to answer that and not sound like a dick,” he pointed out. “Either I say no, despite knowing that our mutual friends have apparently hyped up how nice I am to you, in which case it just looks like I’m acting humble. Dick move. Or I say yes, which would make me look like I’m full of myself. Dick move again.”

You looked over at him, feeling the smirk tug at your lips. “You’re fun.”

“Thanks?”

“So if you don’t think you’re that nice, how would you describe yourself?”

“What is this? Speed dating?” He snorted.

“You want to talk about something else? Pick a better topic yourself,” you retorted. “We’re stuck in here for like two more hours.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he quickly went to smooth the conversation over, his tone turning pleasant again. “I just meant… I don’t know how accurate a self-assessment like that would be. Wouldn’t you be biased about yourself? Positive or negative?”

“That’s the fun of it. Even if a person doesn’t describe themselves accurately, understanding how they see themselves can help you understand them a lot better.”

“How would you describe yourself then?”

“I asked you first.” You pointed out. It felt like it had been a long time since you checked the navigation, so you clicked Sungchan’s phone back on to see how much longer you had to go until your exit.

“Fine.” He hummed as he thought. “I like to think I’m… dependable. And a good friend. And patient—”

“That was our exit,” you said abruptly, staring at the constantly refreshing rerouting screen in front of you.

“What?”

“Well, fifty miles ago was our exit…” You winced, watching ‘288’ pass you by. Yours had been 238, apparently. You should’ve known that.

“We missed our exit?” Sungchan clarified.

“Fifty miles back, yeah.”

“And you just decided to tell me?”

“I just noticed! I thought it was 288!” You tried to defend yourself. “I told you not to make me navigate!”

He held a hand out towards you. “Give me the phone.”

“It’s rerouting, I’ll pay attention—”

“Y/N, give me the fucking phone.” His tone was low, with no room for arguing.

You meekly set it in his hand, dropping both your hands in your lap after. He cursed under his breath as he jerked the wheel over, cutting across three lanes of traffic—no turn signal—to narrowly make the next exit. Car horns followed his maneuver, but he ignored them.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered, unable to take the suffocating silence anymore. It was either apologize or tuck and roll, which was honestly still an option at this point.

“Text everyone, let them know we’ll be late,” Sungchan demanded, knuckles red and white around the wheel.

“Okay.” You scrambled to pull out your own phone. “What time should I tell them?”

“Eight.”

You gaped. “Three hours?!”

“Yes, Y/N, we’re on the other side of the fucking mountain now!” He finally snapped and raised his voice, and your eyes went wide. “We can’t just drive through it to get there!”

You took a deep breath, holding his eye contact for a tense, strangling moment before you looked down at your phone to draft your text.

[you: hey guys! uhm, due to an unfortunate series of events, sungchan and i will be a bit late! new eta 8pm]

[anton: did y’all crash or smth wtf]

Again, a separate text from Donghyuck.

[hyuck: i said be nice not fuck him nasty in the backseat for three hours what is wrong with you]

[you: shut UP]

Back in your vacation group chat, you figured you owed everyone an explanation that alleviated Sungchan of any blame.

[you: completely my fault! i’m apparently the worst navigator ever and we missed our exit :/ ]

[rina: damn y/n maintaining the stereotype that women are bad drivers even when backseat driving]

[ningning: the patriarchy thanks u for ur service queen 🫡]

[jeno: i hate when you guys start joking like this, wtf are we supposed to say without looking like assholes]

[hyuck: pour one out for y/n, it must be so hard holding open the gender pay gap like the doors of a subway car all by herself too]

[mark: bro 😭😭😭]

[you: i wish all of you a very fall down the mountain and die <3]

And one more private text from Donghyuck.

[hyuck: okay that’s how i know you didn’t get dicked down]

[hyuck: damn, you really are bad at reading directions huh]

[you: IM BLOCKING YOU]

Sungchan cleared his throat, and you slowly lowered your phone to look over at him again. He smoothly took a curve on the backroad that you were now on, one lane in each direction, that cut between the mountains with trees jutting up on either side of you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sungchan breathed out, readjusting in his seat. “For yelling at you just now. That’s not… like me.”

“Because you’re so nice?” You couldn’t bite your tongue quick enough, still put off from the spat you’d just had.

“I… guess so,” he sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know where that came from, honest. I’m really sorry.”

“I told you I shouldn’t navigate.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“I’m really, really sorry for missing the exit. I should’ve been paying attention better,” you shouldered the blame that was yours.

“238 and 288 look almost the same. Easy mistake.”

“That added three hours to our drive,” you sighed, leaning your seat back.

“It’s done, no use pointing fingers at each other anymore,” Sungchan shook his head, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Or yourself.”

“Do you even have enough gas for another three hours? We’re not going to get stuck out here, are we?”

“I’ll stop at the next station I see.”

“How far is the next station?” You mumbled, pulling up your phone to search it up on your own. “Fifty-two miles. How much gas do we have?”

“A hundred miles on the range. See? We’re fine.” Sungchan’s smile dropped off his face right after he said that. “Huh…”

“What?” You sat up as he reached over to put the hazards on and pulled the car off onto the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Low tire pressure light,” he frowned. “I checked my tires before I grabbed you from your place. Give me a sec.”

He left the car running as he hopped out, and you watched as he walked around the car, squatting down to inspect each of the tires. Finally, he walked up to your window. You rolled it down to talk to him.

“Back right tire has a nail in it. Slow leak,” he explained. “I’ve got to change it.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to drive spares in certain conditions?” You asked as he reached through the open window to unlock and open the door. “Like on a mountain road or whatever?”

With the door open, he rolled the window back up and reached past you to turn the car off, taking the key out of the ignition. “The road’s paved, it’s not like it’s gravel or anything. I’ll have to drive careful and drive slow on the spare, but it’s either that or we’re stranded out here.”

You eyed the sun that was already descending behind the mountains. “Right. Spare it is.”

“Need you to hold the flashlight if you don’t mind.” He opened the glove box in front of you, rooting around and grabbing a flashlight the length of your forearm.

You accepted it from him. “Got it.”

Sungchan took the tools out of the trunk, as well as the spare tire. He first lifted the car up with the jack, and you became acutely aware of how abandoned the road that you were on really was as not a single other car passed by the entire time. Sungchan stood back up once the car was up to peel off his flannel, tossing it into the trunk with the rest of the tools and the spare waiting to be used.

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” You looked down at where he had gotten back on the ground.

“I need to see the lug nuts, not my arms.”

“Sorry.” You shuffled behind him to be able to point the beam directly on the tire instead of where it had drifted to his mostly bare arms under his t-shirt.

“Much better. Thanks.”

You watched as his hands skillfully unscrewed the lug nuts from the tire with the wrench, holding the first two behind him. “Hold these for me?”

“Oh, sure.” You held your hand out for him to drop them into your palm.

Once you had all five in hand, Sungchan pulled the flat off the car and swapped it out for the spare. You tried not to listen to the darkened forest behind you.

“Lug nuts?” He held his hand up from where he was laying on the ground. You deposited a couple back into his hand for him to screw on at a time.

As he alternated between tightening the nuts and lowering the car down off the jack, you dutifully kept the flashlight pointed on the area he was working on. Finally, the car was back on the ground, and he took the jack out from under it. He rolled the old tire around until he could point out the head of a nail embedded in the tread.

“There’s the little fucker.” Sungchan clicked his tongue before he heaved the tire up into the back. He put away all the tools too, then wiped away beads of sweat that had gathered under his bangs with the hem of his shirt.

He grabbed his flannel, tossing it over his shoulder before he shut the hatch on the trunk. He then turned to you with a bright smile and held his hand up for a high-five. “Alright!”

You high-fived him back mindlessly, pointing the flashlight at your feet now. “I didn’t do anything…”

“What are you talking about? I would’ve been fumbling around in the dark without you.” He nodded his head towards the front of the car. “Come on, we’re going to be late as is. We need to find that gas station. Hopefully they’re open late.”

“Hopefully…”

[you: NEW new eta idfk]

[you: we got a flat and need to fill up again]

[you: we might die out here. if this is my last message, just know that i still wish you all a very fall down the mountain and die <3]

[rina: aw ily2 pookie <33]

[you: sungchan probably says hi or smth]

Hyuck texted you individually again.

[hyuck: oh i know that car smells RANK 🫵🫵🫵]

[you: bitch this tire is as flat as YOUR ASS]

[hyuck: so it’s caked up??? my point is made 😌]

[you: delusion]

“The stars are really pretty out here,” Sungchan’s voice took you away from your phone.

He wasn’t driving as fast as before on account of the spare, making your trip even longer. You looked out the windshield in front of you, at a small patch of sky that you could see peeking out in between the mountains and trees. It was hundreds, if not thousands of stars, infinitely more than you could ever hope to see on a perfectly clear night in the city.

“Wow.” You leaned your arms and head forward on the dash to see it better. “That’s crazy…”

“I bet we’ll see even more once we get to the cabin.”

“If we don’t die out here first,” you half-joked. “How much gas do we have?”

“Sixty miles. And the station should be another ten.”

“Online didn’t have any hours for it…” You muttered. “And this is kind of rural…”

“Which means the owner might live on the property, or they have someone work a night shift for weary travelers just like us.”

“Weary travelers?” You repeated with amusement. “You make it sound like we’re going on some long journey and are seeking lodging at an inn.”

“Some of that’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I won’t knock the weary part either.” You laid back in your seat again, letting out a yawn.

“Take a nap,” Sungchan encouraged you. “We’ll still have a while to drive after refilling, especially since we’re driving slow with the spare.”

“I would, but if the station is open, I gotta pee…” You whispered. “And it’s only like ten miles.”

“Then take a nap after.”

Finally, there was a building in the distance, and miraculously, when Sungchan pulled up to the lone gas pump, the lights inside were even on.

“Sungchan?” You walked around to where he was filling up the car.

“Yeah?” He looked over at you from where he had been watching the numbers on the meter go up.

“Uhm, can you go in with me? Into the store?” You asked almost sheepishly. “I just—”

“Of course.” He agreed with no hesitation, nodding towards the building for you to lead the way. The gas continued pumping on its own as he walked away, and you grabbed his arm as you approached the front door. He didn’t say anything as he opened the door for the two of you.

The attendant behind the counter didn’t even look up from his phone at the two of you as you entered. There was exactly one bathroom at the very back of the small convenience store, and Sungchan walked you back through the cramped aisles of snacks. When you were done, he was waiting just outside the door where you’d left him.

“Good?” He asked quietly, offering you the same arm that you’d taken in the parking lot.

You took it gladly. “Good.”

Sungchan gave the store employee a nod of acknowledgement as the two of you left, and the man once again didn’t even look up at you. Back at the car, the gas had clicked off on its own, and Sungchan replaced the pump. He walked you to the passenger side, opening your door and ushering you in, closing it firmly behind you before getting in on his side and locking it behind him.

“Good?” He asked you again.

“Good,” you confirmed, and he started the car up.

Back on the road, the darkness all around you, steady rumble of the pavement under you, and music Sungchan had playing at a low volume was slowly lulling you back towards sleep again. You let out a rather obvious, violent yawn, not even having enough in you to slap your hand over your mouth all that quick.

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” Sungchan said again.

“But you’ve got to drive more,” you argued. “Who’s going to keep you awake?”

“I’ve got it, promise.” He then chuckled to himself. “You’ve yapped, now it’s time to nap.”

“Mm, alright.” You curled up in your reclined seat as best you could, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Wake me up if you need entertainment to stay awake. Love a good car sing-along…”

Your eyes and limbs still felt heavy and sluggish with sleep when you woke up later that night, and you pulled your blanket tighter to you as you tried to settle back in. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and then immediately remembered that you did not go to sleep with a blanket on you, and that this definitely was not yours that was on you right now. You felt at the material bunched in your hand again and recognized it as an article of clothing of some sort, not a blanket. Slowly opening one eye, you saw that it was a big hoodie, the arms wrapped around your shoulders so it didn’t fall off.

You shifted in your seat again, sitting up a little more as you looked at the hoodie that was draped over you a little closer.

“Hey, are you waking up?” Sungchan asked quietly from beside you.

You looked over at him, squinting. “Mm… mhm.”

“Good, we’re almost there. I’d say ten minutes,” he informed you.

“What… time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

“Ugh…” You dropped your head back against the seat. “Feels like two in the morning.”

“I know what you mean,” he chuckled. “I’m going to be ready to sleep as soon as we get there too.”

“Yeah, but you were like driving and changing tires and stuff. I was... whatever the opposite of a passenger princess is, the whole time. A passenger nuisance.”

“You held the flashlight. That was a very important job.”

“I’m going to pretend like that didn’t feel patronizing and say thanks.”

“We both had a long night, Y/N. Being tired is warranted, for everyone involved.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, not just for that.” You were interrupted by another yawn as you went to put the back of your seat upright again. “For… driving me, and apologizing for snapping at me earlier, and changing the tire, and walking me to the bathroom, and for the hoodie. You’re…”

“Nice?” He seemed to be bracing himself for the word.

“A good guy.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t say anything else, readjusting his hoodie on you as he continued driving. Finally, he pulled off the road into a driveway, and a cabin came into view. All the lights were on, and he stopped behind a few other cars that you recognized: Mark’s, Jaemin’s, and Karina’s.

The two of you had just started taking your stuff out of the trunk when some of your friends met you outside.

“You survived!” Jaemin cheered.

“Barely,” you groaned, reaching for your pillow.

“What happened to your tire, dude?” Mark asked Sungchan.

“Got a nail in it somewhere,” he explained, taking his phone out to shine the flashlight on it. As they looked it over and talked about the car, the others grabbed both yours and Sungchan’s stuff to take into the cabin.

“So, before you guys got a flat, how exactly did you manage to read the map on your phone so wrong you added three hours to the drive?” Jeno questioned you, your duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Our exit was 238, I misread it, thought it was 288,” you explained with a sigh. “We ended up on the wrong side of the mountain and had to go back around.”

“Damn, it’s a good thing you were with Sungchan when you did that,” Anton laughed, dragging Sungchan’s suitcase in. “Anybody else probably would’ve lost their shit on you.”

“He did.”

Everyone who was within earshot turned to look at you.

“What?” Anton blinked.

“I mean, he didn’t like, go crazy or anything, but he was angry.”

“We’re talking about the same guy, right? Jung Sungchan, right over there?” Hyuck pointed to where Sungchan and Mark were still chatting by the cars further down the driveway. “He got like, actually mad at you?”

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed. “Raised his voice, yelled, whatever word you want to use. Cursed, too.”

“I’ve never even seen him get like, frustrated…” Shotaro whistled.

Hyuck looked between you and Sungchan in disbelief. “What the hell?”

“He apologized,” you added what felt like a pretty important detail.

“I’m sure he did,” Anton snorted, opening the front door. “I’m kind of surprised he’s not still like, begging for your forgiveness.”

“He apologized for getting upset, I apologized for missing the exit, we moved on.” You shrugged, stepping into the cabin. “And the sky didn’t fall.”

“Yet.” Hyuck scoffed. “Who knows, hell might freeze over before we wake up.”

“Speaking of, where exactly are we all sleeping?”

The next morning, you slipped out of the king size bed that you, Karina, and Ningning were all sharing and treaded down the darkened hallway as quietly as possible. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and you winced when a floorboard creaked underfoot as you passed behind the pull-out couch that Shotaro and Anton had crashed on.

There was already light pouring out of the kitchen when you got there, and a tall figure was standing in front of the stove, a tea kettle on one of the old coil burners. Sungchan was illuminated by the stove light, and turned around when he heard the shuffling of your socks across the tile. It looked like he had already showered and gotten dressed, his hair a little damp as it hung in his eyes, and he was in a fresh t-shirt, shorts, and pair of sneakers.

“You’re up early,” he commented, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others in the next room.

“You too,” you replied just as softly.

The kettle began whistling just then, and he immediately flipped open the spout to stop the noise, taking it off the stove. He opened a nearby cabinet to grab a mug.

“Tea?” He offered. “I’m not a big coffee guy…”

“Sure,” you accepted, and he took a second mug down. “What kind?”

Sungchan went to a different cabinet to get a box of tea sachets. “Green.”

He dropped a tea bag into each mug, then poured the boiling water over them. He handed you your mug before leaning against a spot by the sink.

“Thanks.” You wrapped your hands contentedly around the warm drink.

You lifted your bag up and down by the string, letting it steep as your eyes blinked open and closed, your mind still coming to in the early morning hours. Outside the cabin, you could hear birds singing as the forest woke up too, and you smiled to yourself at the thought.

“So, uh—” Sungchan cleared his throat awkwardly. “What’s the difference between a nice guy and a good guy?”

You opened your eyes, lifting your head to look up at him, slightly amused. You hoped this hadn’t kept him up last night. “A nice guy wouldn’t have yelled at me in the first place.”

“Oh.” He looked a bit ashamed, and also like he might try to apologize again.

“But that also would’ve made no opportunity for you to apologize,” you continued. “A nice guy is just nice. A good guy can admit when he’s wrong, because he actually is wrong sometimes. But he fixes it after.”

“Huh…” Sungchan took another sip of his tea. “Are you a philosophy student or something? Gender studies?”

“No.” You laughed. “Just a compulsive vibe-harsher, like I said.”

“I don’t know how being smart harshes the vibe.”

“I… find it hard to take things at face value. I always have to evaluate them through some lens. It’s tough for me to live in the moment, I guess. Doesn’t always make me the most fun at parties.”

“You can’t be that much of a bummer, they keep inviting you places.” He had finished his tea, and turned around to wash out the mug before setting it aside to dry. “I’ve got to go, I found a place that’ll look at my tire. I called and they’re open on Saturdays.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered. “If you want some company…”

“It’s on the other side of the mountain,” he informed you. “It’ll be an all-day thing, you should hang out here with everyone. I think Hyuck said they were going to take the boat out.”

“But then you’ll be all alone and bored in the car all day.” You tilted your head. “If you just don’t want me to come, tell me. I’ll be okay.”

“No, Y/N, I’d appreciate the company, but are you sure you want to be stuck in the car with me all day again?”

“Just don’t make me navigate and we’ll be good.”

“Never again,” he smiled. “You’ll be there purely for entertainment.”

“Great, let me get changed.”

“Aw, I thought the jammies were cute,” Sungchan snickered, and for the first time that morning you processed what you were wearing.

A pair of Sanrio character-patterned sleep shorts that were originally from a pajama set (the matching button-up top had long disappeared), well-loved, and a big t-shirt that your dad had gotten from his work when you were high school, worn in with a couple holes in one of the sleeves and another low on the bottom hem—not in any scandalous areas, hence why you hadn’t retired it yet, but definitely not your finest attire.

“Shut up!” You hissed, putting your mug down on the counter to cross your arms over your chest. “I’m changing!”

[sungchan: going to get my tire fixed, y/n’s with me. car shop is on the other side of the mountain so we’ll be back late afternoon-ish]

[jeno: 👍]

“I wasn’t kidding, the pajamas were cute,” Sungchan chuckled as he pulled away from the cabin.

The backroads looked much more welcoming and pleasant in the daytime, all tall, green trees and beautiful mountain landscapes.

“Yeah, sure,” you snorted, taking over the aux first.

“Is my hoodie over there by the way?” He questioned, pointing to the passenger seat floor. “It wasn’t in my stuff yesterday, I thought it might’ve ended up on the floor or something.”

“Oh, sorry, I accidentally took it in with me,” you informed him, remembering when you had finally gotten settled into your room late last night and realized you’d brought the article of clothing in with you in the midst of the hecticness. “I’ll give it back to you when we get back to the cabin after this.”

“Don’t worry about it, just wondering where it went.” He waved you off nonchalantly, eyes focused on the road as he navigated a curve.

But you weren’t going to let him chalant around that so easily. “And what does that mean, Sungchan?”

“I like that hoodie and didn’t want to have lost it on a mountain in the middle of nowhere?”

“So, if I were to give it back to you and start borrowing, oh, I don’t know, Jeno’s hoodie…?”

“That’d be weird, because you have a perfectly good one,” he replied simply.

“Mhm…”

“And clearly, I’m trying to establish my dominance over the other males and stake my unofficial claim over you by having you wear my clothes,” he looked over at you, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You held his eye contact for a moment before you both burst out laughing. “What?!”

“Sorry, I tried my hand at harshing the vibe like you,” his eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Just sounded like a fucking weirdo, huh?”

“A bit, yeah.” You wheezed as you tried to catch your breath. “You also can’t sound that sarcastic when you do it. People have to believe that you believe what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t though. I mean, not completely. I think.”

“Either commit to the bit or don’t.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “But… wouldn’t that have made you feel weird? What I just said?”

“Oh yeah, I don’t buy into all that alpha male social hierarchy bullshit. It’s based off one study on a pack of wolves that’s been debunked multiple times.” You shook your head. “But the second part wasn’t an incorrect analysis of flirting and dating dynamics.”

“Damn, you’re good at that,” he chuckled fondly.

“I didn’t know that Donghyuck was setting us up, by the way,” you felt the need to clarify in that moment. “Not until… right before I apologized?”

“I kind of worked that out eventually,” he sighed. “He should’ve told you, by the way.”

“Yeah, then maybe I would’ve been fucking normal.”

“Probably not.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean, it was unfair to you to have been in the dark like that.”

“That’s… generous. Here I thought it was unfair to you to have been subjected to me like that.”

“I was a bit confused as to why Donghyuck told me he had the perfect person for me and then every time I talked to you, you either ran away or seemed to hate me for no good reason,” he admitted.

“I truly wonder what his thought process was…” You mused. “He meets you playing pickup basketball, you turn out to be nicest guy he’s ever met, and his first thought is to introduce you to me? Weird.”

“Why is that weird?” Sungchan tilted his head. “I think you’re cool.”

“I mean, I’m not nice. Or, it’s definitely not one of my defining characteristics. Wouldn’t you want to set up your two nicest single friends with each other?”

“They might get bored of each other,” he muttered.

You looked at him curiously. “Do you think you’re boring, Sungchan?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that what people say? ‘Oh he’s… a nice guy.’ When they can’t think of anything else about you because you’re boring.”

“I’ve had plenty of fun with you,” you assured him. “Including being stuck in a car with you for six hours and getting a flat tire.”

“I haven’t exactly been my usual self with you…” He confessed quietly.

“Oh?”

“I don’t get upset with people, or tease them like this, or say weird stuff to try to harsh the vibe on purpose.”

You couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter. “Maybe you are usually pretty boring, then.”

“I think… because you’ve already seen me get mad, and we got past that, I feel like I can try out being things other than nice with you?” He seemed to have been picking his words very carefully. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, it makes sense,” you affirmed. “Are you seriously saying you don’t joke around with the others?”

“I joke around, but I’m not really like… sarcastic, I guess. I don’t want to say something and hurt someone’s feelings either because they didn’t get that it was a joke, or even if they did, because it went too far.”

“That’s fair, but… you have to trust people.”

“Coming from the woman who said she doesn’t trust hot people?” He questioned pointedly.

“Okay, fair,” you chuckled. “But hear me out.”

“Go for it.”

“If your friend said or did something that hurt your feelings, and you didn’t tell them that directly, would you expect them to know?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, then shook his head. “No, they can’t read my mind. I would need to tell them so we can talk about it.”

“Then why do you have higher standards for yourself as a friend than you have for your friends?”

Sungchan’s mouth dropped open, then closed, then opened again, then closed once more as he frowned deeply, his brows knitting together.

You continued, “You have to trust your friends to tell you when they’re hurt by something you say or do. If you spend your whole life assuming what your friends’ feelings are instead actually letting them tell you, you’re just forcing your own expectations onto them without their input. And it’s also not fair to you to constantly be living your life trying to minimize all these perceived slights against people. Not to mention—sometimes someone’s feelings can get hurt and you didn’t really do anything wrong.”

He laughed nervously. “Not philosophy or gender studies grad student; I think I’m going to skip right over psychology and just go straight for all-knowing deity that can see straight into my soul?”

“Been thinking about updating my LinkedIn to Professional Yapper, but I think I like that better,” you grinned, handing his phone back over to him. “Your turn on the aux.”

“It’s fixable,” the tire shop owner confirmed. “Should take an hour or so. It’s just me and my son and we have a couple customers ahead of you. You and your girlfriend are welcome to wait here, or, you know, it’s lunchtime, there’s a restaurant that’s a five-minute walk down the road.”

He pointed in presumably the general direction of it.

“Right, uhm, here’s my number, in case we’re not here when it’s done.” Sungchan wrote his number down on a notepad on the front desk in the small tire shop.

The older man pulled the paper towards him, flashing the both of you a smile. “If you go to lunch, tell Mrs. Han I sent you.”

“Thank you.” He nodded to the man before you both stepped away from the counter, and the owner walked into the back where the cars were.

You looked up at Sungchan questioningly. “I could do lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Beats sitting here for an hour. After sitting in the car for two days straight, I’d like to walk for a bit.”

There was of course no sidewalk, so the two of you had to walk on the shoulder of the road, the odd vehicle zipping by every so often and kicking up your hair. Sungchan kept himself between you and the road, meaning that you were on the grassier part of the shoulder, but you didn’t mind, taking the opportunity to look for wildflowers by your feet.

“Did we really look like a couple?” You asked, stopping to bend over and pick a yellow wildflower, then continued your walk.

“We were a man and woman alone in the middle of nowhere with car trouble,” Sungchan pointed out. “I don’t think the first assumption would be that we met a week ago.”

“Hm, fair.”

“He probably sees a lot of couples coming out here for romantic getaways breaking down or getting flats or whatever.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie…” You picked a stalk of small white flowers. “Or the first five minutes of a crime procedural.”

Sungchan grabbed a purple flower and held it out to you. “Truly a miracle that we survived.”

“Are you a mechanic or something?”

“Why? Because I know how to change a tire?”

You shrugged. “It’s a guess. You guessed that I was a philosophy student because I like to yap.”

“Not a mechanic.”

“You going to make me keep guessing?”

“I’ve guessed what you do three times now and you’ve yet to tell me.” He elbowed you. “I think you can handle a little more suspense about me.”

You swatted his arm away. “I don’t know if all-knowing deity should really count…”

“I was being so serious, hand on my heart.” He laid his hand over his chest dramatically.

“Well, I know it’s not pro basketball player,” you hummed teasingly. “Anton says you suck.”

“My three-pointer could use some work…”

“Pretty much our whole complex is grad students or young professionals... Are you in school?”

“You haven’t given me any hints.”

“You haven’t asked for any.”

He watched you step a little further from the road to get a pink flower from a patch before rejoining him. “I’ll answer if you answer.”

“A bargain?” You grinned, taking your gaze off the blue flowers that you had been eyeing up ahead of you and turning it up to Sungchan next to you. “I’ll take it. You first.”

“I’m a student. Your turn.”

“Both,” you answered. “I take night classes.”

“I have to guess two things for you?”

“What do we win if we guess right, anyway?” You asked.

“Y/N...” Sungchan stared you down at you avoiding his question.

“Fine, if you can guess one, I’ll tell you the other,” you acquiesced. “So what’s the prize?”

“Winning isn’t enough?” He questioned.

“You’re the one who turned it into a game.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who did that, but okay,” he teased back. “I don’t know, what do you think it should it be? You suggested a prize.”

You hummed, stepping away from the road to reach for a bright blue flower, having to lean over to one side as the ground sloped down steeply in this area. A few pieces of gravel under your feet tumbled downhill, and Sungchan grabbed your forearm that was close to him to balance you as you picked the flower. Still hunched over, using your new stability with his hold on you to stretch your arm even further out towards a pretty orange one, you suggested, “Winner picks our first date when we get back home?”

“Date?” He echoed, his grip slipping on you for a moment.

You yelped as you nearly lost your balance, and Sungchan barely caught you from tumbling down the hillside, jerking you back towards him. You landed on your ass at his feet, huffing as you looked up at him.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, moving to offer you a hand up.

You took it, standing back up and brushing yourself off. Picking the orange wildflower first, you then threatened, “If you push me down this mountain for real, I’m taking you with me.”

“Yeah, that’s deserved,” he chuckled. “I was just, uhm, surprised.”

“Donghyuck tried to set us up—failed stupendously, which I mean, it’s Hyuck, what’s new?—but we’ve been flirting, I have your hoodie, unless something goes terribly wrong in the next two weeks, that would be the next step, right?” You pointed out. “I wasn’t planning on overanalyzing this but…”

Sungchan let out a round of giggles, his whole face scrunching up as he laughed. “Oh… you don’t know how relieved I am right now to hear you overanalyze that for me.”

“What…?”

“No offense, but it’s a bit hard to tell when you’re analyzing and when you’re flirting,” he admitted, still looking at you with a wide, fond grin. “I mean, this all literally started with you calling me stupidly hot and that somehow being a bad thing.”

You pursed your lips ruefully. “I can see how that might’ve been confusing…”

“No, it’s great,” he chuckled. “You’re great.”

Finally sitting in a booth in the small roadside restaurant, which only had a handful of other customers, the two of you had put in your orders with Mrs. Han and were sipping on your drinks as you went back to your guessing game from the walk.

“We have to guess before we get back to the cabin,” you determined, folding your hands in front of you. “Other people there know us. They might say something.”

Sungchan nodded from across the table. “Good point. Time limit, I like it.”

“Business major. MBA,” you started immediately.

“What? No,” he snorted incredulously.

“It’s basically Undeclared for people who don’t want to disappoint their parents, I had to guess it, sorry.”

“Literature, writing, MFA, something in there?”

“No, and that was like two guesses, so I get two this time.” You clicked your tongue. “Master’s in education, focus in coaching pedagogy.”

“That was one?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay, my second: International Relations.”

“No.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m switching gears, because you seem to know a lot of degrees off the top of your head. You work in the Registrar’s Office?”

“No.”

“Damn! Wait, no, you’re an academic advisor?”

“Nope.”

“Graduate advisor.”

“No, and that was three in a row, Sungchan,” you pointed out humorously.

“I know. Alright, your three?”

“Can I ask a question to narrow it down instead?”

He squinted suspiciously. “What kind of question?”

“To help me narrow the field down. I won’t ask you to tell me the field, they’ll still be yes or no questions.”

“Yes, only if I can ask you the same.”

“It’d only be fair,” you confirmed. “STEM?”

“No.”

“Oh thank God,” you let out a groan of relief.

He laughed. “What’s wrong with people in STEM fields?”

“Listen, love a woman in STEM,” you defended yourself. “Men in STEM… they’re… how do I put this nicely? Insufferable know-it-alls?”

“That’s putting it nicely?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your drink. “Don’t tell me it’s Finance either…”

“No.”

“Okay, I have one more…” You tapped your finger to your chin. “Is it a Fine Art?”

“No.” Sungchan looked down at the small bunch of flowers that you had set aside on the table. “What are you going to do with those?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Look at them for a while. Take pretty pictures for my Instagram. Toss them eventually, I guess. They’re not gonna live forever.”

Selecting one of the little pink flowers, you reached across the table to tuck it behind Sungchan’s ear. “There.”

He touched the flower, a similar shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Your turn to guess.”

“STEM?”

“Math is my worst enemy, numbers were invented to harm me personally,” you retorted. “No.”

“I should’ve known,” he teased.

Mrs. Han brought your food out then, and you both thanked her before she bustled off to take care of a family that had just walked in. There was a pause in your conversation as you started eating. The food was delicious, and as you took another sip to wash it down, you looked out the window next to your table.

“The view is just crazy here,” you gushed, taking in the mountainside dotted with more colorful patches of wildflowers. You patted your pocket for your phone, then frowned when you couldn’t find it. “Where’s my—”

Wordlessly, Sungchan picked it up from the tabletop and held it out to you. You smiled at him. “Oh, thanks! Didn’t even see it.”

After taking a few pictures, you set your phone back down and returned to your guessing game. “Law?”

He shook his head, still chewing, and wiped his face before speaking with a clear mouth. “Nope. Are your job and what you’re studying related at all?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I don’t think that actually helped me at all.”

“Education?”

“Mm, yes to the field, but I will make you narrow it down further,” Sungchan acquiesced.

You beamed at having finally gotten closer. “So I was on the right track with my second guess!”

“Are you doing a Fine Art?”

“No. Master’s in Early Childhood Education?”

He let out a soft chuckle as he sat back in the booth, holding his hands up in surrender. “You win.”

“Yes!” You cheered quietly, pumping a fist victoriously at eye level. “I was going to start at Early Childhood and keep going up in age bracket until I got a yes.”

“So?” He prompted you. “What do you do?”

“Right now, I’m a primary school teacher and I tutor on the side for some extra cash.” You watched his eyes grow wide as you revealed this. “And I’m taking a mix of night classes and online classes to get my degree in Educational Leadership and Policy Studies.”

“And that’s a…?”

“Doctorate.”

“Wow…” He breathed out. “Donghyuck really didn’t tell me anything about you before dragging me over to you at his party but uh—”

“Maybe he figured he’s got one friend who is a teacher and one who wants to be a teacher, might as well?” You suggested with humor in your tone, reaching for your glass.

“Yeah, maybe,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling as he kept looking at you.

When you and Sungchan finally got back to the cabin, you found it entirely devoid of your other friends.

“No welcoming party this time?” You scoffed, gesturing to the empty living room. “Now I’m thinking we should just keep the free fudge Mrs. Han gave us all to ourselves.”

“Hyuck did say they were going to take the boat out,” Sungchan reminded you, placing the bag containing said free fudge onto the kitchen counter. “And there’s no way the two of us could eat all that by ourselves before they got back.”

You made a small ‘hmph’ sound, moving to the large sliding glass door in the living room that afforded a view of the lake. The sun glistened off the water, and from here you couldn’t even see the next closest neighbor.

“Do you want to go down to the dock?” Sungchan suggested, joining you by the door. “They took the boat, but that doesn’t mean we’re stuck inside.”

“So,” Sungchan followed you down the pathway from the back porch down to the dock. “Once you have your degree, do you still want to be a teacher?”

“Yeah, my kids are why I’m getting it in the first place,” you explained, carefully picking your way down the steep decline. “I want to be able to advocate on behalf of them better, and understand what’s going on when the people who aren’t teachers are making decisions that affect us.”

“What year do you teach?”

“I provide supplemental curricula for all ages. Reading and writing mostly.” You peeked back at him over your shoulder. “Do you have an age you want to teach?”

A giddy smile tugged at his lips. “Little ones. Preschool. They’re so… Everything’s new to them. It’s so much fun seeing the world like that.”

“Yeah, it is.” You could feel that you were smiling too, turning your eyes back down to watch your step.

Soon, you were down on the dock, laid out on your towel as you enjoyed a puddle of sunlight, listening to the sounds of Sungchan splashing around in the water in front of you.

“You’re going to get skin cancer like that.”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you looked over your sunglasses at where Sungchan had climbed back up the ladder and was sitting on the edge of the dock, pushing his wet hair out of his face. Like you’d said before, stupidly attractive.

“You literally helped me apply my sunscreen,” you drawled pointedly, recalling when he’d so coyly offered to help you get your back. Pushing your sunglasses back into place, you laid down again. “If I do, it’s your fault.”

You could hear him stand up and walk towards you. “I’ve never understood laying in the sun like that. Don’t you get all sweaty?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m cold-blooded,” you replied humorously.

“Well, do you think you can survive one swim, or will your blood turn sludge in your veins as soon as you touch water?”

You snickered, finally sitting up. “Fine, fine, I’ll get in.”

Sungchan watched you get to your feet, then offered his hand out. You eyed it suspiciously.

“I’m getting in,” you promised, pointing to the ladder.

He offered his hand more insistently. “It’s not that bad. Jump in with me.”

You sighed, grabbing his hand. “Fine.”

Stepping up the edge of the dock with him, he swung your clasped hands in time as he counted, “One, two—”

“Three!” You finished, pulling him forward with you.

He rushed to bring his other hand up to plug his nose as you careened the both of you off the dock and into the lake. The water surged up around you, cool but not cold, not too warm to be gross, just refreshing enough. You squeezed your eyes shut as you went under, and let go of Sungchan’s hand so you could paddle back up to the surface. Wiping the water from your eyes, you laughed as he immediately pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“Dragging your heels only to pull me off!” He was grinning too.

“I’m sorry, did I see you plugging your nose?” You teased back. “At your big age?”

“I’m not getting a brain-eating amoeba, thank you,” he retorted. “You were asleep, but there was this billboard we passed on our way here warning people about it.”

“But do you know how to blow nose bubbles, Sungchan?”

“Well, no.”

“Okay, mini-swim lesson,” you declared, waving him closer. “Come on, I used to teach water safety to little kids. If I can teach a two-year-old to stop snorting water, I believe in you.”

“You taught swim lessons?”

“Yeah, it was my first job, in high school.” You locked back into instructing. “You can blow your nose, right?”

He looked at you blankly. “Yes.”

“Hey, some people have body awareness issues, it’s always better to ask.” You held your hands up defensively. “So, same mechanics, air goes out into the water, keep your mouth closed, and don’t inhale through your nose right after while it’s still underwater.”

You did a small demonstration for him, only submerging from your chin to your nose, letting out a slow stream of bubbles. Bringing your face back up, you added, “And try not to exhale all at once.”

Sungchan mirrored your actions, lowering his face until his nose was underwater, slowly exhaling. He uncertainly lifted his head again after, eyes on you.

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Yay! There we go!”

“That was... weirdly easy.” He immediately did it again.

“Now you just have to think about doing it all the time, until you don’t have to think about doing it.” You rolled over onto your back, relaxing as you floated. “Then you’ll never have to worry about plugging your nose again.”

“If you used to be a swim instructor, why didn’t you want to swim?” Sungchan followed after you curiously as you drifted away.

“Because then I do stuff like give grown men lessons on how to blow nose bubbles.”

“That was helpful.”

“And—” You popped up to tread water again, facing Sungchan. “I kind of hate lakes. And oceans. Anything that I can’t see the bottom in, and where stuff lives. Like fish, or brain-eating amoebas. I like my pools.”

His face fell. “Oh, well we can get out—”

“I said kind of,” you cut him off. “I don’t mind, because you wanted to swim, and I’m having fun with you.”

“But—”

“Sungchan.” You held his gaze steadily, keeping your voice calm, inquisitive even. “Have you ever done something you don’t really care for, because your friends or family wanted to?”

“Well, yeah.”

“They’re worth it?”

“Of course.”

You tilted your head with a knowing smile. “So are you.”

His face flushed with what you knew wasn’t the heat of the sun. “Oh...”

The sound of a boat motor in the distance caught your attention. Coming around a bend in the trees was, in fact, a boat, and while you couldn’t make out any individual faces at this distance, the fact that it was headed right towards you, and several of the figures were jumping and waving at you, you could guess that it held all your friends.

“Well, there’s everyone,” you laughed, heading back towards the dock.

Some days later, you were contentedly relaxed in a hammock that had been suspended between two trees in the spacious backyard of the cabin, humming along to a song playing from Ningning’s phone as you half-listened to whatever juicy piece of gossip that the other two were divulging. A cool night breeze passed over your bare arms and legs, pricking up goosebumps in its wake, and you shivered.

“I’m going to grab a sweater or something,” you declared, getting down from the hammock. Picking up your empty drink can from the table nearby, you added, “Not to mention, I’m out of seltzer.”

“Can you see if we have any more chocolate-covered pretzels?” Karina requested.

“Sure.” You grabbed some of the other trash to take in with you.

You passed by the guys playing video games in the living room as you headed for the kitchen, tossing the garbage out first. After throwing on a hoodie from your room, you went back into the living room, fully intending on checking the kitchen for Karina’s snack. Instead, you were met by a desperate, raucous chorus of yells of your name.

“Hm?” You looked up at the guys questioningly, stopping in your tracks.

Mark waved you over fervently. “Come here! We need an even number.”

“What are you guys playing?” You took a hesitant step closer, eyes scrutinizing the game menu.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a button masher, super easy,” Shotaro reassured you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the living room. “Sungchan’s not even half-bad at it.”

“Yeah, you can uh, you can even be on Sungchan’s team,” Hyuck said, exchanging a mischievous grin with a couple of your other friends.

“Okay,” you shrugged, plopping down into the space that Sungchan had made for you between him and the arm of the couch. A controller was pushed into your hand. Karina’s pretzels could wait.

“This moves your character around, this one is to jump, this one is to attack, this one is to shield,” Sungchan quietly explained the controls to you as the others started assigning teams, hands hovering over yours on the controller. “There’s some other special moves, but those are the basics. Just uh, stay away from Hyuck.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“Nice hoodie by the way,” he added, much softer.

“Thanks...” You murmured back, well aware that you were wearing his from the car.

“Alright!” Jaemin announced loudly. “Let’s do it!”

Now, you didn’t exactly consider yourself a gamer. In fact, you spent most of the time either running away from the other guys, or at one point, accidentally falling off the level and losing a life all on your own. You couldn’t even tell if you were even really helping Sungchan at all. But it was fun, and you were kind of maybe starting to get a hang of the controls by the end of the round. To your surprise, the two characters that popped up as winners, however, were yours and Sungchan’s.

“We won?” You questioned, looking at Sungchan in surprise.

“Looks like we did,” he confirmed, smiling down at the controller in his hand.

“Hell yeah!” You held a hand up for him to high five.

“Sungchan, what the hell?” Shotaro smacked his arm from his other side.

“Since when have you been good at video games?” Jaemin interjected from the other couch.

“Have you been sucking on purpose this whole time and just decided to reveal that you were good now?” Mark questioned accusatorily.

“Yeah, we were joking when we said he was only half-bad at this game, he’s actually ass at it,” Anton clarified to you, making you roll your eyes at their apparent plan to give you the worst player.

“Sorry Y/N, he’s on my team next,” Hyuck declared, bringing up the character selections and switching Sungchan’s team color to match his own.

“Hey, change that back,” Sungchan said, his voice level but firm.

Hyuck actually stopped in his tracks, looking back at Sungchan with wide eyes. He held his hands up in surrender.

Sungchan switched his team color back to match yours with no interference from the others. You lightly bumped your leg against his as the room chatter started back up. He bumped your leg back.

The next day, everyone went out on a hike. There was a slightly overgrown trail that went around the mountainside, taking lazy twists and turns through the trees. Said greenery provided you with plenty of shade, and concealed the lake below from you so well it almost felt like you had transported elsewhere. The trail was narrow, however, only fitting three people comfortably at its widest points, but usually only two, so your group was spread out thin along it.

Jaemin and Hyuck were up front, arguing about… something that you couldn’t parse out from your place all the way at the back. Turning to Sungchan beside you, you took your water bottle out of the side pocket of the backpack he was wearing. Somehow he had been burdened with most of the group’s supplies, and while you weren’t exactly doing any sort of survivalist stuff out here, you didn’t see why everyone couldn’t at least carry their own water bottles.

Taking a swig from your bottle, you kept it in your hand as you pointed at him accusingly, “You didn’t suddenly get good at that game out of nowhere last night, Sungchan.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, I mean…”

“Were you sucking on purpose so nobody’s feelings got hurt?”

“I didn’t suck. I was just sort of… okay.” He tried to explain. “I don’t know if it was on purpose, I guess I just didn’t care if everyone knew that I was the best? I’m just not super competitive, really.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hyuck speechless like that before either.” You laughed at the memory. “You don’t ever stand up for yourself with them like that, do you?”

“It’s not like they bully me or anything…”

“You just go with the flow?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he seemed to relax again at your words.

“I had fun playing on your team last night,” you said, taking another sip. “Win or lose. I’m glad you didn’t go with the flow that time.”

“Hey, hold still?” Sungchan requested, reaching a hand out towards your face.

You froze warily. “What is it? A bug?”

“No, no,” he reassured you, brushing your hair back from one side of your head, then the other. “Did you leave the cabin with only one earring in?”

“Shit, no!” Your hands flew up to clutch at your lobes, immediately feeling that one of them was empty. You looked down at the ground around your feet, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach that it was useless. There was nothing around you but dirt and grass. “Damn it!”

Sungchan made an effort to look under him as well, but came up empty-handed too. “I don’t see anything…”

“Well, damn,” you sighed, dropping your hands back down to your sides. “Could’ve been worse, I guess. Could’ve been my grandmother’s pearls or something instead of a pair of earrings I stole from my freshman roommate.”

“Seriously?” He laughed as you continued down the trail.

“It was an accident! Mostly…” You explained. “We borrowed each other’s stuff all the time, and when we moved out at the end of the year, the earrings ended up in my stuff. I told her I had them and she said I could keep them. Apparently they always made her ears itch anyway.”

“Sucks you lost one, though. I thought the little hearts were really cute.”

“Just like you thought my raggedy old t-shirt was cute?” You snorted.

“Exactly.”

“Why do you get shotgun, Y/N?” Anton complained from the backseat, his voice loud to be heard over the wind.

“Because it’s my car,” Sungchan retorted, his thumb tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. “And I said so.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at the image of poor Anton and his lanky limbs squished into the middle seat between Shotaro and Mark. “You could’ve stayed at the cabin, Anton.”

“I was bored.” He crossed his arms. “And I thought Sungchan would’ve at least been sympathetic to his fellow long-legged brethren.”

“But the baby always gets the middle seat.” You turned around to pinch his cheek.

“I am not—”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sungchan sighed, looking out the window. “With the way you’re whining right now.”

Anton’s jaw dropped as the other three of you broke into howling laughter.

Soon enough, you arrived at your destination, a natural park with a huge cave system. The main attraction, however, was that one section of the tunnels was so dark that you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

A small family, and field trip for what looked like a summer camp had arrived just before you all, and were put in the same tour group as your friends. You watched from afar with amusement as the counselors put the children into buddy pairs before the tour guide officially began the tour.

“Hey, don’t you teach, Y/N?” Shotaro asked curiously as your own group took up the rear of the tour, nodding towards all the kids.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered, the air immediately becoming cooler as you stepped into the caves. “Primary school.”

“Jungchan over here wants to be a teacher too!” Anton informed you cheerily, slapping Sungchan on the shoulder, the sound cracking through the entire cave loudly.

Several heads turned around to look at the source of the noise, and you all looked around at the walls of the cave innocently until they turned forward again. The cave was getting darker and darker, the lights strung up by the park employees getting fewer and further between. Your eyes continued to adjust to the changing light, but your surroundings were becoming less made up of clear objects with definable features and more the vague outline of shapes.

“Oh, really?” You asked mildly, barely concealing the humor in your tone.

“Early childhood education,” he replied calmly, hand sneaking up to pinch your side.

It took everything in you not to squeal as you squirmed away from his hand, elbowing his arm. You could hear the light puffs of his silent laughter next to you. Right as you had lifted your own hand up to retaliate, the tour group came to a stop, everything was pitch black around you, and Sungchan’s hand caught yours, lacing your fingers together. There were no lights in here, and the children’s excited chatter rose as the counselors spoke back to them to confirm that they were still there as well. You held your free hand up in front of your face, and the only way you knew it was there was because you could feel that it was. The only thing your eyes saw was darkness.

“That’s freaky,” Shotaro commented from somewhere behind you.

“What the hell, man?” Mark was somewhere to your other side. “Dude, I can’t see my hand! Just like it said online!”

“Oh! There you are, Shotaro!” Anton breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, I didn’t disappear in the five seconds since we walked in here,” Shotaro grunted. “Did you have to practically climb on top of me to confirm that?”

You reached out tentatively towards Sungchan, your hand eventually bumping into his chest. “Ah, found you.”

“Found me,” he echoed quietly.

The tour guide started ushering everyone out of the sector, and as the light started entering your vision again, your fingers unwound from Sungchan’s. The counselor’s voices floated back to you as they took a headcount of all their kids, who were still dutifully holding onto their assigned buddies.

Soft footsteps at the top of the stairs caught your attention, and you looked up from your laptop at the tall figure hovering there awkwardly. You offered Sungchan a soft smile, waving him into the small attic loft space. There wasn’t much up here except the couch that you were on, a narrow table, and a dartboard. The ceiling was so low that Sungchan had to hunch just the slightest to avoid knocking his forehead into the wooden crossbeams.

“Hey.” You pushed yourself up into a proper sitting position on the couch, your computer moving from your stomach to your lap.

“Why aren’t you out with everyone else?” He sat down in the space that you had freed up. The others had all gathered outside around the firepit to roast marshmallows and drink, but you had other things to tend to.

You nodded to the device. “Ah, I had some grading to do.”

“I thought you were on summer break.”

“Tutoring.” You set the laptop aside on the coffee table, even as your eyes caught on the screen fondly. “One of my students, I mean, she doesn’t need it for her grades. But she just loves writing, so her mom pays for sessions like private workshops. I’m working on her newest story right now.”

“How is it?”

“She’s so creative!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “It amazes me every time. She hasn’t quite figured out resolutions yet, still rushes through them once she’s decided she’s done with the exciting part. But she’s gotten a lot better with dialogue. She used to not write it at all, just tell you what characters said, never putting anything in quotes, you know?”

“It’s typed?” He questioned, looking at the word document on your screen.

“Yeah, she has coordination issues, pencils kind of slow her down,” you explained. “She’s working on it in her occupational therapy. But that’s not what this is for. This is to let her be creative. If I forced her to use a pencil, she’d have to stop writing because her hands were done before her brain was done.”

“That... sounds frustrating for her.”

“There’s other options now. I mean, when’s the last time you actually used a pencil in your everyday life?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment. “...Good point.”

There was a pause as Sungchan just kept looking at you, the moment feeling much like when you were in the restaurant, his dark brown eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting you had now.

“Did you miss me, Sungchan?” You eyed him teasingly.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“What did you tell everyone else you were doing when you came looking for me?”

“I didn’t make an announcement or anything.”

“Yeah?” You sat up closer to him, then did a double-take as you noticed a hole in his earlobe. “Hey, I never noticed you had your ears pierced.”

“Only one.” He turned his head to show you the other, unadulterated lobe. “Probably why you didn’t notice, you’ve always been on my other side in the car.”

An idea immediately came to your mind, and you stood up from the couch. “Wait here.”

Traversing through the house, you came back up the stairs with your prize clutched triumphantly in the palm of your hand. You held your closed fist out towards him indicatively. “Here.”

He held his hand out, letting you drop the single red heart stud into it. His eyes widened as he turned it over with a fingertip. “You’re…”

“I washed it, don’t worry.”

Sungchan promptly put the stud in, securing it with the backing and looking up at you again with a delighted, amazed smile.

“Cute,” you commented, tracing the shell of his ear with a fingertip.

“And what does this mean, Y/N?” He asked slyly.

“What am I going to do with only one earring?” You replied with feigned innocence. “And, I was kind of hoping you’d need help putting it on, since there’s no mirrors in here...”

He leaned back against the couch. “And how exactly would you have helped me put it on?”

“Well, I can’t really see from here, so, I would’ve had to get closer—” You stepped forward, putting your hands on his shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his lap. You kept your focus on his face the whole time, watching for any hesitation, any uncertainty, any indication that you should stop. His eyes watched you with rapt attention, big and brown and awe-filled.

“Good?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a hum.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, and your eyes followed the movement, before he answered, “Good.”

“Then I would’ve put the earring in—” You once again outlined the outer shell of his ear, continuing down the line of his jaw. “And probably said something about the adorable little freckle you have on the bridge of your nose that I kind of want to bite.”

You tapped said freckle, high up on his nose, nearly between his brows, and his face split into a grin as he laughed breathily.

“Bite?” He repeated, clearly amused at the idea.

“Mhm.” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck. “You’ve got a very biteable nose, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, the whole nose is biteable, not just the freckle,” he chuckled, settling his hands on your hips.

“Well, more than just the nose.”

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You gasped in feigned shock. “Before our first date?”

“Do I need to ask your hand in marriage first?” He was so close that your noses almost touched now, his question mingling with your answer that came soon after.

“No,” you snickered, letting him seal his lips over yours in the next moment.

“You mauled him.”

Turning around from where you were eating a bowl of cereal, you raised an eyebrow at Hyuck. “Good morning to you too, Hyuck. And nice bedhead.”

He didn’t fix his hair that was sticking up in all directions, coming around to flop into the seat across the table from you. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about?” You snorted. Pushing the box towards him, you offered, “Cereal?”

“Care to tell me why Sungchan is covered in hickies and bite marks?”

“Care to tell me how you know that?”

“He sleeps shirtless, don’t try to avoid.”

“Why do you think it was me?”

“He disappeared from the bonfire last night and didn’t return, you didn’t show up at all, he appears the next morning coincidentally looking like he’s been someone’s chew toy. You’re... you.”

You cocked your head at him curiously. “Weren’t you trying to set us up?”

“I was. I still am, kind of,” he sighed. “Like I said, Sungchan’s the nicest guy I know. Don’t... chew him up and spit him out, please.”

“I’m touched you think so highly of me, truly.”

“That didn’t come out right,” he groaned, rubbing his face with two hands. “I meant... Make sure you two are on the same page about what you’re doing and what you want.”

“We are, Hyuck,” you told him quietly.

Hyuck peeked at you over his hands, and based on the crinkles that formed around his eyes, you could perfectly imagine the mischievous grin that was hidden. “So it was you, then?”

Footsteps entered the kitchen then, followed by Sungchan’s voice, deeper with the early hours of the morning, “Oh, morning, Y/N, Hyuck.”

He stopped next to your seat at the end of the table, seeming uncertain of just how close to be to you. He was wearing a longsleeve, which didn’t help much with the few marks on his neck and under his jaw. The red heart stud was still in his ear, which made your chest squeeze and your whole body thrum with happiness.

“Morning, Sungchan,” you said brightly, gesturing to the cereal box. “Cereal? Hyuck didn’t want any.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Sit, I’ll get your bowl.” You stood up, gently pushing him towards the table as you walked by him towards the cabinets.

“Gross, could you not do that in front of me?” Donghyuck made an exaggerated gagging sound.

“Do what?” Sungchan squinted at him in confusion at the same time that you scoffed, “Nobody’s holding you here at gunpoint. Go back to sleep.”

“Maybe I will.” He made a grand display of pushing his chair back and standing up.

“You’ve never been a morning person.” You shook your head at him. “See you in a few hours.”

As he shuffled back out of the kitchen, you returned to your mission of fetching a bowl and the milk, bringing them back to the table for Sungchan. He’d taken the seat next to yours, and you happily plopped back down beside him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, beginning to fix a bowl of cereal for himself.

“Good one sleeping shirtless, by the way. Hyuck had absolutely no questions,” you teased, finger poking one of the hickies facing you.

Sungchan gave you a pointed stare, but made no move to knock your hand away. “Oh and who couldn’t keep her teeth to herself?”

“I told you: You’re biteable.”

He reached up to grab your hand and removed it from where you'd still been messing with the marks you’d left on his throat. Instead of just pushing it away, he brought your joined hands down to rest on his leg. After a beat, he looked up at you, uncertainty in his gaze, as if he were about to belatedly ask permission.

You laced your fingers together, scooting your chair closer to his before picking up your spoon with your free hand.

As the anchor was dropped into the water, there was an excited buzz about the boat, everyone getting ready to get in the water. Hyuck had stopped the boat by a rope swing that was set up in a tree on one of the steep edges of where the mountain met the lake. A few inflatables were tied to the boat so they wouldn’t drift away, and of course, a couple coolers with plenty of drinks were on deck.

“Y/N, can you help me with my sunscreen?” Ningning requested, holding the bottle out to you.

“Ning, I told you to apply it at the cabin,” you sighed, accepting the sunscreen nevertheless as she took her coverup off.

“It’s not my fault we’re currently sharing one bathroom with like five other people!” She pointed out. “I didn’t have time.”

Sudden wolf whistles and dramatic yells from the back of the boat made you snap your head over, anger flooding your body immediately. But you realized that none of them were aimed at you and Ningning. Instead, the guys seemed to all be taunting Sungchan, who had just taken his shirt off, revealing the full extent of the love bites scattered on his skin.

“Dude, did you get mauled by a bear or something?” Mark laughed.

“Or fall down the mountain?” Anton’s eyes were wide as he went to poke one on Sungchan’s shoulder.

Sungchan slapped his hand away. “Personal space?”

“Fall down the mountain after getting mauled by a bear?” Jaemin proposed helpfully, moving behind him as if inspecting a product that he was purchasing at a store. “We got claw marks, guys!”

They all let out teasing cheers, and you could see that Sungchan’s ears were bright red. You shook your head to yourself, going back to helping Ningning with her sunscreen.

She craned her neck to be able to look at you over her shoulder. “Nice one, Y/N.”

“Who, me?” You blinked at her innocently.

“You left that poor boy to deal with those menaces by himself.”

You’d finished up with her sunscreen, handing her the bottle. “One sec.”

Walking over to where the guys were still razzing Sungchan, who now looked prematurely sunburned, you held a hand up to shade your eyes, squinting as you looked off towards the rope swing.

“I bet Shotaro could make it there first,” you commented casually.

“What?!” They all looked over at you, dumbfounded.

“No way!” Anton argued. “I literally used to be a swimmer.”

“But if you’re talking endurance—” Jeno tried to vouch for himself.

“All your big muscles just make you sink, dude,” Hyuck snorted. “You’ve got no buoyancy.”

As they kept squabbling, you were still eyeing the rope swing. “Yeah, but, Taro’s like, halfway there already.”

Their heads whipped around to see that Shotaro had, in fact, been lazily paddling towards the swing all the while they were teasing Sungchan. The guys all rushed to toss off whatever shirts, shoes, hats, or sunglasses they didn’t want to get wet, practically shoving each other in their haste to get in the water and race towards the rope swing. The boat swayed a little with their movements, and you grabbed Sungchan’s arm for stability, the only one of them who hadn’t taken your bait.

Shotaro turned around when he heard all the splashes behind him, confusion turning to momentary panic as they all rushed at him.

“Hurry up! You’re going to lose your head start!” Sungchan yelled out to him.

“What?!” He began backstroking faster. “I didn’t know this was a race!”

Karina was already in one of the inflatables off the back of the boat, and Ningning gracefully dove off the back platform to join in her one of the other ones.

Looking back up at Sungchan, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how perfectly that had worked. He was laughing too, one of his hands dropping to your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Thanks for the save there,” he chuckled, thumb sneaking under the shirt you were wearing to rub circles into the bare skin above your swimsuit bottoms. “Did you put sunscreen on?”

“Back at the cabin,” you confirmed. “Hate to disappoint.”

“You could’ve lied and said no.”

“I am nothing if not an honest and pure soul,” you put a hand over your heart as your words were laced with sarcasm.

Sungchan snickered at this, his smile so bright you could forget about the sun, leaning in even closer to him.

“Sungchan.”

“Mhm?” He looked down at you, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Can I kiss you?”

“In front of everyone?” He gasped, still teasing.

“That’s a little bit the point.” You couldn’t take your eyes off him—so gorgeous it really was unfair. “And also, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What a coincidence—I want to kiss you too.”

You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. He immediately responded in turn, his other hand that wasn’t on your hip going to cup your cheek. The sounds of various taunts, cheers, and whistles all faded out behind the roaring in your ears.

It was your last night in the cabin, and you were of course celebrating with one last bonfire. Your group of friends were spread out between the firepit, the hammock, and the other lounge furniture on the spacious deck. You and Sungchan were tucked onto a small loveseat by the table of food, idly chatting as you sipped your drink and he nibbled off the snack offerings in front of you.

The sliding glass door opened behind you, one of your friends walking out from inside the cabin. Glancing up, you saw that it was Mark, his eyes down on his phone screen as he shut the door behind him.

“Those little rolls from Mrs. Han’s restaurant were really good,” Sungchan sighed happily, hand on his stomach.

“There’s still one more,” you pointed out. “Take it.”

He looked uncertain for a moment, but you nudged him with your foot insistently.

“Everybody’s already had one. Go ahead.”

Sungchan had just reached forward towards the last roll as Mark walked by, eyes on his phone as he swiped it from the plate. The man next to you just sighed dejectedly, sitting back in his seat.

“Hey, Sungchan was going to eat that,” you called after Mark loudly. Not too rude, just making him aware as he clearly hadn’t been paying attention.

Mark turned around, looking at you two, then down at the roll in his hand in confusion. He offered it back out to Sungchan. “Oh, sorry man, I didn’t realize—”

Sungchan waved him off. “It’s okay, you can have—”

You stood up, walked over, and snatched it out of Mark’s hand. “Thanks, bye.”

Mark paused, as if he were thinking about saying something else, but opted not to, walking over to sit with Jeno and Hyuck by the fire.

You sat back down next to Sungchan and placed it in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sungchan was clearly fighting a smile as he looked down at his feet. He tore the roll in half, offering one half out to you.

You took it gratefully, tapping your half against his in a little cheers before you both simultaneously stuffed the whole thing into your mouths in one go. Looking at him with his puffed-out cheeks, knowing that yours definitely looked exactly the same made you burst out laughing, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth and keep any crumbs in. Sungchan was clearly struggling to not spit out his half-chewed food as he started laughing too, turning away from you and slapping his leg.

When you had finally chewed and swallowed the bread without choking, and composed yourself again, you turned back to Sungchan, still well aware of the faint, smitten smile on your lips. He was already facing you, watching you with a fond sparkle in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a couple crumbs from the side of your mouth with his thumb.

“Oh, thanks.” You habitually wiped the other side of your mouth just in case.

“I’m curious…” He said quietly, grabbing one of your hands to gently play with your fingers. “Have you picked out what we’re doing for our first date yet?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything.” You then added a teasing, “Plus, we have to get home first. Who knows, your car might get another flat on the way back and then we’ll get stranded out here and die.”

He burst into soft chuckles. “Since you won’t be navigating, I think we’ll make it back just fine.”

“I like those odds,” you beamed.

“Me too.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then murmured by your ear, “I like our odds a lot, I think.”

The next day found you in the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car, wearing his hoodie and humming along to whatever he was playing over the speakers. The car had a full tank of gas, four inflated tires, and the maps app was not in your hands.

“You know, I get it now,” Sungchan spoke into the peaceful quiet abruptly.

You lolled your head over to look at him questioningly. “Get what?”

“Why you were suspicious of me at first.”

“You finally realized how stupidly hot you are?” You snorted, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

“I’m thinking I should’ve been more suspicious of you, actually.” He pinched your cheek right back, and you smacked his hand away. He just laughed, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers over the console.

“Why’s that?”

“We haven’t even been on our first date and I feel like I’ve gone head over heels right down the mountainside.”

You groaned and shook your head. “I was suspicious of you for the wrong reason. You’re not a player or anything, you’re actually too sweet for my own good.”

“Your own good?”

“Yeah, you keep saying shit like that and I’m going to do something crazy like say ‘I love you’ on our first date.”

He laughed, squeezing your hand. “Challenge accepted.”

⤷ masterlist

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

Can you write a Damian fic when the reader gets close to one of his brothers preferably Jason?

NUMBER ONE

pairings — damian wayne — al ghul x reader

warnings — not much maybe a little cursing

summary — Damian didn’t like how close you were with Jason, and he had no problem making Jason know how he felt about that.

notes — this isn’t the best so i probably messed up the request so im sorry about that 😞

━━━━━━━ DAMIAN KNEW THERE WASNT anything serious between you and Jason. he had no problem admitting that you guys were friends and liked to hang out. he wasn’t particularly keen on befriending his older brother, but could manage his presence for you.

it had started when Jason picked you up from school, Damian had cashed out on a favor from the older guy because Bruce needed him somewhere when your classes ended.

of course, that wouldn’t be the only time Jason had to pick you up for Damian. Jason honestly had no problem picking you up, since it put him on better terms with the younger boy.

after all, Jason was far too old for you, and since you were with Damian, Jason had no problem befriending you and enjoying time together as friends. if anything, you saw him as more of a fun uncle than your boyfriends brother.

but, you still reminded yourself that that was your boyfriends brother, not your “fun uncle”, and you were fine with setting reasonable boundaries.

“you okay, Damian?” you walked over to where he had been laying in his bed. he had a sour look spread across his face as he stared into his ceiling like it was never ending.

“do you like Jason more than me?” Damian asked suddenly, his eyes remaining glued on his ceiling. you grinned, he couldn’t see you, and grabbed one of his hands that sat on his chest, holding it in your own.

“no, of course not. he’s like a weird uncle, and he isn’t my boyfriend, is he?” you poked at his softly with your other hand, kissing the expanse of his hand softly. he finally looked away from the ceiling, meeting your gaze.

“no, he isn’t.” Damian sighed, sitting up.

“either way, i have boundaries set with him. do you want me to spend less time him?”

“no, no.” Damian sighed, leaning against you. you smiled again, kissing the crown of his head.

on occasion, other than the times that Jason picked you up and dropped you off, you would spend time playing video games or just simply hanging out with him.

you understood that Damian did not like Jason whatsoever, so the only times you hung out with the older guy one on one was whenever you were waiting for Damian.

“were you jealous?” you asked, a small grin formulating on your face. Damian brought his head back up and softly glared, shaking his head. “you totally were.” you laughed. he lightly pushed your shoulder, smiling now.

“i wasn’t jealous of Todd.” Damian pretended to be upset, but you knew it was all a lie.

you dropped it after that, spending the rest of your time with your boyfriend.

the next day, while getting ready for school, Damian sent you a message. won’t be able to pick you up today, Todd will. you replied with a short yet sweet message before finishing getting ready and going to school.

the day passed by in a breeze, nothing interesting had happened (you expected it, your school had always been boring), and you just missed your boyfriend.

walking out of the building, you easily found Jason’s car, opening the passenger side and sitting down.

“what’s up, kid?” Jason held his fist out for a fist bump, you tapped your fist against his, grinning tiredly.

“just tired. how longs Damian gonna be gone?” you asked, attempting to keep the conversation civil and short — you hardly had enough social energy left.

“not too long. just gonna sleep when we get back?” Jason pulled away from the school and drove faster than most others would, but drove safely regardless.

Damian would have his head if Jason put you in any danger.

“yeah, probably.” you confirmed, letting out a yawn.

the rest of the drive, the two of you had fun. Jason was able to make you laugh until your stomach hurt and you were crying.

either way, you were still exhausted when Jason parked outside the house. greeting Alfred and waving at anyone else, you were able to find Damian’s room and fall asleep instantaneously.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? Since it's Women's International Day, he and their son, Jack decided to surprise her with breakfast in bed, and just spending time together before going to the paddock. And be close to each other during the race. Just something fluff and cute. Maybe a little surprise at the end. You decide what it is. Thanks!! :)))

Days like these - Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Plot: Toto and your son decide to treat you after a hard day at the paddock with International Women’s Day as a reasons to be extra sweet to their lady.

A/N: im so so sorry this is much later than IWD but we can still use this to appreciate women all year round!

Credit to almostfantasy for the GIF

You were currently in and out of sleep, you’d had a very busy day around the paddock yesterday with it being media day so today you’d woken up pretty exhausted especially after what you and Toto had got up to the night before.

Toto had whispered softly to you to go back to sleep, squeezing your plush bare hip before kissing your forehead and climbing out of bed to go deal with your guys’ son who was definitely awake and wanting attention by now.

You were thankful for the lay in, but after some clinks, clonks and clangs coming from the kitchen you decided to go see what all of the noisy fuss was about.

You pull on an old top of Toto’s, an Austrian football team shirt that clung against your stomach and hips in ways that made Toto go crazy and a pair of shorts before rounding it off with your fluffy dressing gown and slippers.

You slowly make your way down stairs sleepily holding the side of the bannister as you go down. The noises from the kitchen get louder and louder until your voice opens to over power it all.

“Honey? Munchkin” you ask spread apart seeing if your husband would reply to you first.

“Mama no, no Mama no!” Your son cries out seeing your and grabbing your hand trying to pull you away from whatever is going on in the kitchen.

“What is it pumpkin?!” You ask.

“Daddy said we were doing you breakfast in bed! Your not in bed, your ruining it! VATI! Mama isn’t in bed, bed now” he cries as if you’d committed some kind of crime right in front of the child’s eyes.

In his eyes you had.

“Oh your Mama isn’t in bed, we’ll have to get her back then” Toto grins before lifting your up, as easy as ever, and throwing your over his shoulder causing a groan to fall from your mouth.

“What on earth. Toto put me down!” You laugh, lightly hitting his lower back, where your hands could reach because of the angle you were being held at.

Your son followed the pair of you up the stairs you teasingly reaching out to grab him, missing only slightly as he’d back up each time giggling at his mothers antics.

Toto lightly places you on the bed once your back in the bedroom, taking the slippers off and pushing you further up the bed. He places your son up on the bed, holding him to look at him as he explains.

“Okay, Mama escaped so we have to tuck her back in so she can’t leave again!” Toto states, showing him how to tuck you back in properly making you stifle a laugh as they both get to work making sure the duvet is secured around you.

They both trot off, going back to whatever they were doing in the kitchen as you open your phone cruising through your work emails for the day and any of the messages. One from Lewis, one from George. Some from your colleagues… it was ending when you worked for Sky Sports as presenter and commentator for F1.

Eventually you hear your husbands voice directing your son to be careful coming up the stairs so he doesn’t spill anything.

As they enter the room your heart warms impossibly. Your son was holding a glass of orange juice, not daring to look up at you in fear of dropping it. You knew he wanted to be included and that was arguably the easiest thing Toto would let him carry up the stairs.

Toto smiles widely at you, placing the array or breakfast foods on the tray across your lap, making you grin. All of your favourites were here.

“What is all of this for?” You ask happily, taking the glass of juice from your son whose been patiently waiting for you.

“Well, we know you had a hard day at work yesterday and it’s of course international woman’s day and we wanted to celebrate that with our favourite woman. Right buddy?” Toto asks your son making him nod having been briefly explained to why they were doing this for you.

A smile broke out across your face, Toto pulled you in placing a delicate kiss on your lips before he’s interrupted by the whining of your little boy who was trying to make his way up onto the bed with you.

Toto lifts him up and he crawls his way over on your left side hugging right into your mum pillowing that he loved to constantly be against.

Your son was extremely clingy, especially when it came to you. He was for sure a mummy’s boy.

Toto slides in next to you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he puts some cartoon on the tv opposite the bed to entertain your son.

You offer him some of your fruit to which he shakes his head saying that it was for you.

“I don’t mind baby, sharing with your is all I want to do” you grin and eventually accepts some of the mango, strawberry’s and bananas that were in the fruit bowl.

When you were looking he snuck a pancake away, a dead giveaway being the chocolate build up now around his mouth.

“You cheeky little monster!” You exclaimed as you grabbed some tissue to wipe around the mouth getting rid of the chocolate goodness that remained.

He giggles as your wipe around his mouth, trying to dodge you like a ninja.

Eventually your easy domestic morning had to come to and end. You and Toto both needed to be at the track today. You always travelled together since when you first started dating and that hadn’t ever changed you’d just added a member to the party. Another one soon to join, little did any of you know.

You all got ready trying to make a decent time to make your way over to Silverstone Circuit ready for a day full of FP1 and FP2. Toto was hoping for a bit more luck today as Mercedes hasn’t been doing great but with some upgrades brought in this weekend he was hopeful for Lewis and George to pull through now they had a car worth driving.

After today, this morning more like you felt more attached to Totos side than ever. Later that week, you’d find out it was your new pregnancy hormones that were making you feel so needy to be around him but for now you couldn’t put your finger on why you refused to leave the Mercedes garage when you weren’t needed around for the Sky Sports crew, or any interviews.

Sky Sports commentator - And here we have one of our very own, Y/N Y/L/N currently having some family time in the Mercedes garage with her husband Toto Wolff and their son. Just look at them all, such a picture right there

Sky Sports commentator- We should actually get her up here soon for an interview about the upgrades a lot of the teams have had for this weekend. One of the surprising teams to not have any being RedBull, potential hope for that gap to close?

They did eventually call you up away from your family.

You pulled him into a massive hug and kiss, not wanting to leave him and god until he pretty much forced you out of the garage and up to the commentary box where Crofty was waiting for you.

However Toto and your son didn’t stop for a second not to watch you on the big screen talk about the cars.

Your son squealed in delight every time you spoke and waved your hands about making the mechanics pause and laugh at the boy and talk to him about his mum. A topic the youngster was more than happy to chat their ear off about.

The whole weekend was great, you had some phenomenal interviews as their eas great racing to talk to all the drivers about and spending the weekend with Toto and your son just made the highlight of your weekend.

The race came around and you watched from the Mercedes garage holding onto Toto the whole time, watching as George and Lewis dominated the track successfully splitting up the Ferraris.

You ran off right as it ended knowing you’d be needed for the podium and post race interviews as soon as possible.

“Come back soon” he smiled at you pulling you into a long chaste kiss before letting you run off.

Toto knew one thing, regardless with what happened this year in Mercedes he was more than content with his life with your right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[strnilolo]

clumsy girl

summary: matt’s girlfriend is rather clumsy.

warnings: cursing, use of y/n, kisses kinda, jokes about death, idk what else. lowercase intentional

an: i kinda don’t like this one guys. BUT this won the vote so ask and you shall receive.

an2: i do have some requests guys and im very sorry that i haven’t gotten to them, its just hard for me to get motivated unless i have a really good idea for a fic and can play it out in my head. but i will be working on requests i promise.

|navigation|

you and matt are sat on the couch together, aimlessly scrolling through your phones. matt leans his head on your shoulder before giggling slightly, sitting upright next to you.

“look at this video, isn’t this funny?” matt moves his phone in front of you, scrolling to restart the video.

you watch as different clips cut across the screen, laughing lightly to yourself. the video had been a compilation of matt saving you from falling, hitting your head, hurting yourself, etc.

“you’re so clumsy, huh? always need me to save you” matt smirks at your annoyed expression.

“i am not that clumsy, matthew, you’ve probably tripped and fallen more times than me” you roll your eyes as you sit back against your teasing boyfriend.

“well.. what about that one time at dinner, or the time you almost tripped up the stairs?”

matt went on and on about the different times he was your ‘knight in shining armor.’

two months ago

“okay guys now we’re going to be decorating the cupcakes and our lovely mother is going to be trying them and rating them 1-10” you listened patiently as nick loudly addressed the camera, informing the viewers of our next step.

“oh shit” your tube of icing dropped onto the floor right as the clip began rolling. you quickly bend to the side to grab the tube as matt reached his hand to cover the corner of the table, protecting your head from bashing into it. sitting up, you thank matt for his help before continuing to decorate your cupcake.

currently

“oh my god, i actually do remember that. people were making edits for weeks” the two of you laughed at the fond memory, before matt began to speak again.

“do you remember the time you almost fell down the stairs during our house tour?”

“oh please don’t remind me” groaning at the embarrassing image in your head.

several months earlier

“okay so now y/n is going to lead us upstairs to the room we share” matt followed behind you, talking to the camera as the vlog went on.

“oh fuck!” you grip onto the railing, feeling yourself slip on the wooden staircase.

“jesus y/n-” you feel matt’s hand on your back, steadying you on the stairs before he releases his grip, allowing you to continue up.

“you have got to be more careful, you could’ve killed us all” nick laughs from behind matt, dramatically grasping onto the rail.

“whatever, thanks matt” you smile at the boy, playfully rolling your eyes.

“okay guys so we made it upstairs, barely, now to show you where i sleep” matt faces the camera towards you as the four of you continue to vlog a tour of your shared living space.

currently

“jesus, that was embarrassing” you cover your face with your hands in attempt to hide your blush.

“no it wasn’t, you just don’t want the world to see that you’d die without me” matt pulls your hands from your face, playfully placing kisses around your forehead and cheeks.

“i guess i would die without you, huh?”

“a very painfully and stupid death, yes” the two of you laugh at the memories, enjoying the little amount of quality time you’re able to get.

| likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated|

| 🏷️ @strniolosworld @bananabread-nana @abbie13sworld @mxqdii |

ps i do not consent to my work being stolen, translated, or posted on any other website without my permission

[chaotic-iguana]

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

——————————————————————————————————

Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Forever

Sylus x Y/N - drabble - 492 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: so much fluff, tiny pinch of angst, illusion to smut

-----------------------------

You woke up to the sun on your skin and something tickling your thighs. When you shifted slightly you felt slender fingers moving across your soft skin. You lifted the blanket slightly, red eyes meeting yours. You couldn’t help but blush seeing Sylus laying against your naked body, his head resting on your hip. His fingers drew gentle circles over you making you shiver. You shuffled slightly, Sylus groaned as he made his way back to the top of the bed. You pulled the blanket close to your chest, feeling embarrassed. 

“What is it sweetie?” he asked, fingers caressing your cheek deftly. 

You looked down, shrugging. Last night was the first time you two had slept together. It was wonderful but you felt anxious. You couldn’t help but feel like something was going to go wrong. An awful impending sense of doom. Sylus saw this in your face, you were never good at hiding things from him. 

“Honey?”  he said, his face growing slightly more serious and worried. “Last night… do you regret it?” he asked.

Your eyes shot up, “Of course not! Last night was… the most beautiful night of my life.” you blushed.

Sylus let out a small sigh of relief, “Then what is it?” he asked, holding your hand.

“I don’t know… I just feel like something bad is gonna happen.” you said, a saddened expression taking over your face.

“I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’m not going anywhere. We can stay like this…” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Like what? In bed naked?” you chuckled.

“Happy.” he said, his eyes full of hope. 

“I’d like that… Let’s be happy.” you said, smiling at him with a toothy grin.

“Forever.” he said, his evol making a ring appear on your finger.

You felt like your face might crack, you straddled him as you showered his face with kisses.

He laughed for a moment before pulling you into a deep kiss, it felt different from all the others you’d shared. Intimate, as if it was sealing a promise.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

You leaned back as if you were thinking about it, “Hmmmm…” 

He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips puckered. You stifled a laugh as he kissed you once more. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’ll never worry about anything, I promise.” he said, loosening his grip so he could cradle your face. 

“I never worry when I’m with you.” you said sitting up and letting the blanket fall, exposing your naked body to him.

His eyes never left your face, “How would you like to celebrate?” he asked, his hands ghosting over your thighs to your hips. 

“I’m sure we can find something to do.” you smiled wickedly as you pulled one of his hands from your hip, trailing it down between your legs where you wanted him most.

_______________________

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! Very short fic before I head to work. Sorry for the lack of fics lately, work has been so draining and when im not at work all i want to do is sleep but I'm hoping to publish a few this weekend :) XOXOXOXOXOXO

[toxicanonymity]

Non con sex pollen fic where Joel and the reader are waken up in a random room together and he recognizes who you are because he used to be friends with ur dad , he starts begging the people who took them to let him out because the reader isn’t the only person that’s ended up in this situation with him, and then there’s smoke that enters the room but it only has an effect on Joel, if you even decide to turn this into anything can you add oral f receiving pls and do the smut however you want! I’ll love it either way <3 IM SO SORRY ITS ALOT

Lazaretto (sex pollen)

2.6k ONE SHOT / joel x afab!reader / master

Part 2 HERE

WARNINGS: non-con, sex pollen, manhandling, oral f receiving, unsafe P in V sex, anal, reader menstruates. poorly edited. Horror elements apparently lol idk how sex pollen is normally written. 18+

You wake up in a heavy-duty four-wall tent with a burly stranger, both of you in hospital gowns.  You were sedated and you're still groggy when a man in a biohazard suit explains you’re being quarantined in a makeshift lazaretto outside the overcrowded army hospital.  Neither of you were bitten in the chaos earlier, but it’s a precaution.  You'll be monitored for 24 hours, treated with an antifungal fog, then monitored for another 24 hours before they release you.  You sign a release about potential side effects which include psychological and sexual disturbances. 

He doesn’t elaborate, but Joel is clearly disturbed as if it’s not his first time.  

“No,” he says.  “No!" He screams, then begs, "Let me out, or let her out, I don’t care.”

“I’m not authorized to let anyone out.”

“Then put me in my own tent!" 

“I’m afraid we’re far past capacity.  Most units have three.” 

“Can you at least tie me up or somethin’?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

"Then get me away from her!" 

You're offended and confused.  The quarantine man leaves.  For a while, neither of you talk except to say some variation of, “this is bullshit.”  Joel seems genuinely distressed.  You have your own problems to worry about.  You’re at the tail end of your period and don’t have any provisions, not even any underwear. You want to check and see if you’re still bleeding, but not with this stranger in the tent. 

You ask him, “What are you so worried about?” 

He starts to say something but stops himself and says, “I’ll tell you later.” 

"What did I do?" You ask and your temples feel weak. 

He recognizes how mean he must have sounded.  "Nothing at all, sugar.  It's me. I had. . . a bad reaction in the past."  

He changes the subject and tells you he recognizes you.  It hits you - Joel Miller - he used to run a smuggling route with your dad.  Life has hardened Joel into a much stronger, more attractive man since then.  He’s not a big talker, but he occasionally indulges your questions about pre-outbreak life.  You start to really enjoy his company.  For a minute at a time, you manage to forget about the scary circumstances. 

-

There’s one old cot and a blanket.  He says you can have them because he won’t be able to sleep anyway.  You’re not comfortable but you manage to fall asleep.  You wake up shivering and ask if he’ll join you.  He hesitantly agrees, then settles in behind you.  You grab his hand and hold it tight.  You’re gushing between the legs.  You expect a nice red spot on both your gowns in the morning, but that should be the least of your worries.

“Do you think we’re okay?” you whisper. 

“Yeah, we’re okay,” he replies softly in your ear. 

You start sniffling.  “I’m scared.” 

He tightens his arm over you. “I know, sugar. You’re gonna be alright. We’re alright.”  You can hear his heart beating faster.  

As you drift off to sleep, it’s impossible not to notice through your gowns when his dick hardens against you.  He backs off a little but you push your ass back into him and tighten your grip on his hand.  His chest swells against your back and you feel him inhale your hair, but he doesn't make a move and neither do you. 

-

When you wake up, he’s lying on his stomach on the floor using his massive bicep as a pillow.  Before he notices you’re awake, you subtly dip your finger into youreslf to check for your period, and it’s not there.  You were just wet.  You sit up and look at the back of your gown.  Nothing.  When he sees you’re awake and sits up, the fear returns to his eyes.   He says, “I reckon the fog will come soon, now.”  There’s no clock, but he senses it.  He moves his jaw side to side anxiously and his eyes dart around the tent. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He opens his mouth several times then stops before he manages to say it.  “Look, if. . . If I do anything after they fog us. . .  it’s not me, okay?"

"Okay. . .do anything like what?" 

"It . . . The fog has an effect on certain people."  He swallows and looks away.  "Like a sexual effect. It can make you . . . Aggressive."

"Oh. . ."

"Listen.  You can fight me off, do whatever you have to do, okay?" 

"Okay."

Your heart beats faster wondering what's in store.  You can’t imagine it’s that bad. 

-

Finally, one side of the tent ripples as a small, circular portal is opened and something clicks into it.  The tent begins to fill with fog.  The fog smells faintly like a thunderstorm and settles toward the ground before it slowly rises.  Joel backs away from it, sitting in the very corner of the tent as it spreads across the floor.  As the fog continues to pour in, he stands up and turns his face toward the ceiling.  But it reaches him. He tries not to breathe it, with his mouth in his gown, but it’s no use. He squats down, facing away from you.  

He swallows.  “I’m sorry.”  His voice is shaky.  He looks back at you one last time apologetically, then pinches his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. The fog valve is shut.  For a few minutes, you can hardly see him. 

-

You hear the sticky footsteps of his bare feet on the floor, then he gets close enough to see him through the fog, just a few feet away from you.  His whole face has darkened.  And it further darkens as he looks at you in a trance.  He wets his lips like you’re something to eat.  His chest rises and falls with heaving breaths.  

Minutes ago, it was hard to imagine being afraid of him,  but he’s a whole different man now.   You get up from the cot,  walk backwards to the opposite side of the tent, and sit in the corner. 

He crosses the tent in two long, swift strides.  As he looms over you, it’s impossible to ignore the massive tent in his gown or his muscular thighs. 

“Get up,” he demands through the fading fog.  You look down and stay where you are, pulling your gown over your knees, shrinking into yourself.  

“GET UP NOW!” he yells with his mouth wide open, face red, hair bouncing.  

You still don’t.  

"I’m sorry,” he says, then darkens again.  “But you're askin' for it.”  He squats down and gently cups your face.  “Get up.”

You don’t. “You don’t want to do this.”  A last ditch effort:  “I have my period!”   But it only makes him more feral.  You see it in his face right after you say it. 

-

Joel grabs you roughly by both elbows and manhandles you to your feet, then pushes you over to the cot.   He tears your gown off and throws you down on the cot face-up.  He scans you head to toe.  You futilely try to cover yourself with your arms and hands.  You’d feel even more naked without the fog though, which still hangs in the air.  You start to sit up and he forces you back down, pinning you with an arm across your chest.  "Starving,” he growls in your ear, giving you butterflies.  He grabs your hand off your pussy then shoves his own between your legs and the butterflies swarm to your core.  You try and fail to keep your legs shut tight but the pressure of your thighs around his hand feels far too good between your legs.

“Joel, stop,” you plead. “You’re not yourself.”  You beg him to stop, but you're getting wetter by the minute.  His intensity turns you on. 

“No use, darlin’.”  He inserts his middle finger and breathes heavily.  “Nothin’s stoppin’ this." 

You still try, though.  You thrash and kick, then he grabs you by the arms so hard his fingers dig deep into your muscles, practically to the bone. “Sit still, damnit.”  He softens only for a moment.  “Don't wanna have to hurt you.” Then he darkens again.

Your face gets  cold and you swallow.  He kneels at the foot of the cot and uses your thighs to violently yank you toward him so your ass is at the end.  He pries your legs open and holds them that way with his massive hands.  His mouth latches onto your pussy and you’re flooded with a rush of arousal as the hook of his nose begins to massage your clit.  He really digs in, pressing his lips hard into you, thrusting his tongue inside you.  A ball of tension gathers in your traitorous core and you twitch.  

He’s grunting “Mm” as he sucks and laps.  You squirm and he forces you still again and continues, ravenous to consume you.  He looks up with black eyes, and the animal between your legs terrifies you.  He intensifies his eating and you feel it coming.  The next time he thrusts his tongue inside you, his nose drags up your clit.  You moan and your spine arches as you see stars. He stops and watches you unravel with his head still firmly planted between your legs.  Your eyes water with your pulsations as you stare up at the ceiling of the tent. He lifts his head and a lighter patch of his beard is just barely tinged with your period.  He dug it out of you.  He inserts his fingers and you clench around him with the aftershocks.  You close your eyes and catch your breath.

-

He must stand up, because before you know it, you feel his tip at your entrance.   Your body wants him inside you. You could make it easy on him, but you don’t want him to fuck you and regret it.  It’s not just your body – you’re realizing you want him, too.  You may be getting ahead of yourself, but it’s the product of a near-death experience, of being sealed in a tent with him for 24 hours, and of getting head within an inch of your life. The perfect storm. If you’re going to have him, it has to be under different circumstances or he may never want to do it again.

He begins to push in. 

“Joel, no!” You squirm and thrash.  

He sighs.  “You're just gonna tucker yourself out like that.” 

You still give it your best try, but he’s right.   You’re no match for his strength. He overpowers you, pins you down with his weight, then shoves his thick cock into you with a grunt.  Your wet little hole can hardly take him.  You yelp as his unforgiving girth splits you open and fills you up.  When his length retreats, you try to push him off, but you can’t.  “You’re takin' it one way or another, darlin’.” 

He bottoms out with a guttural roar like he’s charging into battle. He pounds you brutally, slamming to the hilt each time.  It hurts but it isn’t long before it starts to feel okay, then good, and then, the delicious stretch of his girth feels like something you never knew you needed.  After a minute or two, you stop squirming and thrashing. It's happening, and you might as well enjoy it. 

When you stop fighting, he takes his weight off you and stands at the foot of the cot, your thighs in his hands, pulling you back on his dick as his hips snap into you. His hair is messy and his face and neck are splotched red.  His big arms bulge out from under the gown.  You’ve never seen such intensity on anyone’s face before.  

After a few minutes of him pistoning into you, you feel another climax building.  You whimper and he rails you even harder, sweating, grunting, growling.  When you come, it’s a burst unlike anything you've ever felt. You hear yourself wailing as he fucks you through it.  Your walls are still contracting around his cock when he grabs onto your hips for dear life and plunges into you with more force than ever.  

You realize he’s going to come inside and yell, “No!”  You try to get away.  You try to fight back, but he’s too strong and determined.  Rage falls across his face.  A groan rips out of his throat as his cock erupts into you, pulsing massively, extending your climax longer than you thought possible.  It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before.  

Your whole body is spent.  When he’s finished coming, he slides out of you and you lie there limp with your eyes closed. It’s quiet for a minute. The fog has settled more. 

He groans softly. Then, "I'm sorry. . ."  You open your eyes and sit up. You reach for him  at the foot of the cot, but he backs away.  It seems like he can't look at you. His eyes are tearful.  

"It's okay.  Look at me, Joel. It's okay."

It's quiet for a minute.

-

"God damnit,” he whispers. He covers himself and when your eyes follow his hand, it’s clear he’s hard again or it never went away.   The fog has faded enough that it seems he at least has the wherewithal to jack off instead.  "Close your eyes," he says as he turns away and wraps his hand around his cock.  You study his eyes and they’re dark, but not as dark as they were. You lie down with your eyes shut and listen to his breath and the squish of his hand around his cock, wet with your slick.

The  rhythmic squish gets closer and closer.   You open your eyes to the darkest look on his face.  He’s standing there at the foot of the cot, gown pushed up out of the way again as he strokes his stiff, imposing cock. 

“Flip over,” he demands but gives you no time to comply.  He grabs you under the arms.

“Okay, okay,” you comply and he forces you down on your stomach.  

He wedges the tip of his cock between your cheeks, aligning himself at your asshole.  You’re terrified.  You beg, "no, wait," but he's not there anymore.  It's not really him. 

He plunges into your tight, virgin hole and you yelp in shock. His hands on your hips lift your ass in the air and you bury your head in your arm, biting your own skin as he yanks you back into him, making your ass flush with his pelvis.  You’re stuffed full of him, fuller than you’ve ever felt, even fuller than when he was in your pussy.  

He pummels you with abandon and your eyes well up in tears.  You're mortified, you've never done this before, and you have so many fears – is he going to ruin you?  Is there going to be a mess?  But each time he buries his length in your ass, it feels better and your fears fade into pleasure. The longer he pounds you, the better it feels.  It feels surprisingly good, much better than you ever thought it would.  The tent seems to echo with his grunts and the slap of skin.  

Another orgasm is brewing as he pounds your guts.  It builds faster this time.  He grunts louder, then your whole body is seized by the deepest, most powerful climax.  You whimper, then your whimper turns into a groan as your ass spasms and your pussy clenches around nothing.  

And then he pulses inside you, filling up another hole.  By the time he's through with you, you're filled to the brim with him.  He slides out and you turn around. 

He stumbles backwards in horror at what he's done. 

“I’m sorry, sugar.  I’m so sorry."

-

Part 2 HERE

Thank you for reading and engaging! Might wanna follow me if you like this because my posts are getting reported and might not show up in the tags.

-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro

[the-s1lly-corner]

Crps but you're all having a sleepover

thats right baby we're returning to the 2010s creepypasta fandom for this one, where everyone lived in the slender mansion and shit obvious hc derailment from my normal posting but im feeling a little nostalgic </3 the way i portray characters is the same as i usually do it, theyre all just roommates now notes: reader is gn, platonic post really since its just talking about what everyone is doing in the mansion, admin is attempting to catch the energy of 2010s quotev/wattpad creepypasta x reader fics/quizzes... including only characters that were a "standard" for the mansion stuff, at least with the stuff i looked at! splendorman and nina are here though even though they dont fall under that, a LOT of parts are connected with each other and reference one another cws: none

SLENDERMAN

he usually doesnt like getting wrapped into the chaos that happens when everyone decides to spend the night in the common area of the mansion- and he never quite saw the appeal in sleepovers

if you need a break from the chaos inside, you can find him holed up in his office or out in the woods

if hes out in the woods and you go searching, it doesnt take you long to find him

or rather, it doesnt take him long to find you- he knew you stepped out the second your feet touched the grass

you keep each other company... its a quiet night out..

he wrongly assumes everyone is going to behave and that he doesnt need to check in on them

SPLENDORMAN

looooooves sleepovers, acts as a sort of "supervisor" to make sure no one gets hurt and nothing gets set on fire... hes... not very good at it since theres so many people and theres so much going on

attempts to orchestrate games so everyone can have fun together- and while some people do form a small group to play, most of everyone else is doing their own thing throughout the night!

hangs around you if you need a break from the chaos, talks to you to pass the time

checks in on you and everyone else to make sure everyone is having fun

he kind of gives off those "are you winning son?" dads but hes asking everyone is theyre having fun

JEFF THE KILLER

throwing knives into the fireplace trying to hit the same spot over and over, he offers you his knife to let you give it a try! nina might come by and join you two at some point!

loudly talks shit about some of the other people in the area... cough cough jane cough cough

its a miracle a fight hasnt broke out yet... but its definitely very likely

hes the one responsible for the music, and of course, its all his personal taste... but if you ask nicely and if its a good enough suggestion he might just let you play a couple songs!

at some point you two decide to go help laughing jack make snacks... more on that in his part!

JANE THE KILLER

doing her best to ignore the chaos around her as she sits with sally and plays with her... there arent many other creepypastas around that are in her age group, and jane doesnt want to make her feel left out

she does end up spending most of the night downstairs with everyone else but she does take breaks to step outside to clear her head, its way too loud and theres way too much going on

offers to let you come outside with her, if you want

you both kind of just end up talking outside on the porch before heading back inside

you try to help convince nina and sally to go upstairs to play, you both might just be successful!

wont be sleeping with everyone else downstairs, shes probably going to retreat to her room at some point to sleep

NINA THE KILLER

also sitting with sally, theyre making friendship bracelets! if you want you can join in and make some with her!

ninas an absolute pro at making bracelets, they easily outdoes everyone sitting in your group!

offers to paint your nails or experiment with some makeup on your face! doesnt push too hard though because shes all for a good time, doesnt want to make you feel uncomfortable

playing music against jeff's music, total genre clash that hardly sounds pleasant- perhaps the four of you can retreat to sallys room?

joins in on the snack making at some point in the night, and while she doesnt start a fire she does make something diabolical

think the monster and sour airhead strip thing

LAUGHING JACK

he does NOT know how to cook but he wants to give it a shot now that no one is in the kitchen

you guys probably start a small fire while trying to make popcorn, absolute chaos breaks out- jack is eating burnt kennels, you're trying to whack the flame out, jeff is cackling, and splendorman is rushing in to see whats going on and he nearly has a heart attack

prior to that jack is passing out candy and doing his own thing, you might be able to convince him to wind down and watch a movie with you and some of the others!

last one to fall asleep, if you can call what he does sleep... he... doesnt need to sleep, he just pretend sleeps

will instantly rush over if you offer him to join in on an activity youre doing, whether youre by yourself or with someone else

EYELESS JACK

pretty tame, all he's doing is streaming movies in the living room so theres something to watch- or more sound to add to the background

has enough sense to turn on subtitles so you know whats actually being said against whats going on around you

he would sneak you snacks if he had them, but he didnt think to grab anything thats friendly for you- that sort of thing doesnt cross his mind that often since he doesnt... eat normal people food

pro at tuning everyone else out, he might just end up tuning you out because hes so used to things descending into chaos

you both might end up having a conversation about anything at some point, really any topic is on the table

BEN DROWNED

one of the rare occasions where hes out and about rather than being confined to his devices- surely he will use his limited time to hang out with everyone in bulk!

right..?

you thought! sure he might come down every now and then to hang out- namely hang out with jeff or sally for a few minutes, but hes going to be spending a lot of his time in his room upstairs playing video games

and youre more than welcome to join him! just be aware that hes likely going to be using cheats and hacks!

love the idea that ben is friends with a lot of the other gaming creepypastas so theres a chance theyre also going to be playing with you guys, even if theyre not there in person

absolute insanity ensues, mostly due to all of the cheats

SALLY

wants to hang out with everyone and while shes not totally dismissed, she ends up spending her night on the floor drawing- but jane and nina do join her at some point to keep her company

over the moon when you come over and sit with her!! shes already made you a friendship bracelet, nina showed her how! in fact shes already made one for everyone!

do ghosts sleep...? if so youre probably going to have to take her to bed at some point, whether it be at her bedtime or if she simply falls asleep while you hang out

as soon as nina offers to do your hair or makeup, sally is immediately jumping up and offering to help

will probably ask for her hair to be done as well

MASKY

its either him or hoodie, but one of them is going to end up being the one to put out that fire laughing jack starts in the kitchen

cannot stand the excess noise so hes probably going to step outside to clear his head or go upstairs

its best to give him a few minutes before offering to join him, he needs that window of alone time to depressurized

basically plays babysitter next to splendorman, basically making sure nothing gets wrecked inside or outside

you guys dont really talk out on the porch, there isnt much to talk about

offers to walk with you through the woods before returning inside

you both kind of just hang around in the corner keeping an eye on everyone

one of the last ones to fall asleep as well

HOODIE

similar to masky in the "hes making sure nothing is getting too insane and nothing is being damaged", he might default to the couch with eyeless jack

switches between watching the movie thats being played and scanning the room to make sure everyone is mostly behaving

unlike ej, he did think to keep some small snacks on him and hes willing to share with you if you ask

will keep the good stuff/his favorite stuff for himself though

doesnt sleep in the living room, will eventually go back up to his room at some point to go to bed... with the exception of characters who outright dont sleep, hoodies 100% the one staying up the longest

asks you about the movie when it ends, if you know sign or have some way for him to communicate with you

TICCI TOBY

probably gets caught up in the energy- in multiple ways! i do think at some point hes going to get overstimulated and need a step back but for a while hes hanging around with everyone else and kind of leaning into the chaos

briefly joins jeff in the "weapon throwing" activity, naturally wants to use his hatchets

at some point you both kind of just sit on the floor in a corner and just talk about- literally anything

you look through stuff on your phone, probably leads to introducing him to a lot of internet stuff... he uh... isnt on the internet all that much

oh you guys are definitely taking random quizzes and stuff

nina might join you guys for a bit at some point- leads to you guys taking quotev quizzes and things get more... silly

[spxllcxstxr]

Fair Winds and Following Seas • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: That Roman soulmate fic was sooo good 😭😭😭 argfhh biting my pillow rn. May I request a scene rewrite of your choice of them already in an established relationship? They’d have cute bickering and lots of casual physical contact all the time. Maybe theyre on a yacht together like that one episode and theyre just so intertwined all the time that its hard to tell where roman ends and reader starts 😣-- anon

Summary: Roman seems to like casual intimacy, even in front of his family

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), based on 2x10 “this is not for tears,” established relationship, alcohol, ken suicide joke (one line, nbd), roman jokingly calls something 'domestic abuse' it certainly is NOT that, normal Roman shenanigans

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: guys, I usually write fantasy so this dialogue may just suck ass im SORRY LMAO, lemme know what you think!!! Hope you guys enjoy! Roman is so bbg

•

The Mediterranean sun warms your exposed skin while the sea breeze keeps you from getting uncomfortably hot. The Roy's certainly knew how to take a vacation.

Roman lazily drapes his arm over your shoulders, the small act of casual intimacy in front of his siblings something you still can't really get used to just yet. The family, you learned pretty quickly, was not a clingy one, so Roman's constant need to be touching you in some way in front of them was unexpected.

You sigh happily at his side, ignoring the boring work talk the siblings had already immersed themselves in.

The weather was just too divine for you to focus on anything other than the free vacation and your boyfriend.

Shiv's piercing blue eyes peer curiously over her dark sunglasses. Her gaze causes you to straighten your back and shift ever so slightly away from Roman. You've noticed that her and Tom were never exactly touchy, but then again her and Tom were barely a loving couple.

The harsh scrutiny of her stare doesn't go unnoticed by Roman, who immediately pulls you back closer to him. Your cheeks flush at his blatant display of affection.

"Something the matter, Siobhan?" Roman asks, his voice slightly higher than usual with a British twang to it. His fingers absentmindedly trace odd shapes across your back. He sips at his cocktail, eyebrows raised waiting for her retort.

Shiv’s intense gaze slowly slides over to Kendall. Their older brother offers your group a half-assed shrug.

"Nothing at all, Roman." She offers you both a tight-lipped smile, swirling her white wine in front of her.

Awkwardly you lean back into him as he sarcastically grumbles something under his breath, unconvinced. Roman’s body in tense beside you, but stays firmly pressed next to your own.

Sounds of waves crashing against the yacht and distant conversations almost lure you to sleep though the three sibling’s chatter keeps you just conscious enough that you don’t completely drift off.

You hear Kendall get up from his seat, his joints popping.

"I'm gunna go check on dad," He says, voice low though he knows you're not actually asleep. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Just don't jump off the boat, Ken. We're not turning the ship around just for your old-ass." Roman jokes before yelping at Shiv's slap to the shoulder.

You hide your tiny grin with a fake yawn.

"Very funny, Rome," Ken mutters before leaving the three of you.

It's awkward, just the three of you alone; the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Shiv clears her throat and you can only imagine the patronizing look she has on her face. Roman shifts, and most likely flips her off, but otherwise he's silent.

Moments later you hear the thud of expensive yet tacky yachting shoes against the floorboards, which could only mean Tom.

"Shiv, uh," The man stutters, obviously distracted by something. Slowly you open an eye, peering over at the man. "Why don't we go and uh, discuss that thing from before, huh?"

Tom's eyes can barely settle on one thing, he looks between you and Roman before only briefly settling on his wife. His cheeks are a little red, but with a man that pasty, it's sure to be a light sunburn.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, almost seductively, blue eyes twinkling with some hidden secret.

Tom's lips tilt down into a frown, now no longer even looking in your direction. He's jealous, you figure, you've never seen him and Shiv cuddled up like this, at least not comfortably so. Someone is always tense and irritated.

After sparing her husband a glance, you see her eyes narrow and her lips drawing into a tight line.

You offer them a smile while Roman once again gives a rude gesture.

Swiftly, Shiv rises from her seat, empty wine glass in hand. She barely gestures a simple goodbye before walking away with Tom. You watch as she says something to him, which makes him recoil from her.

You could only imagine what that was about, but you figure it was you and Roman.

You press your cheek even harder against Roman's chest, almost like you're trying to burrow your way under his skin. The fresh white linen shirt he's wearing is soft underneath you. His uncalloused fingertips continue to dance across your exposed arm.

He's no longer tense, you notice; his muscles are more relaxed now that his siblings are nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn't around either, which eased the thick and looming tension that usually hung around the family.

Roman chuckles, tangling his feet around yours.

"What's got you all giggly today?" You ask, closing your eyes as you soak in more of the warmth.

"I'm not giggly, thank you very much. Giggling is for school girls and wine drunk single moms."

"Yeah, ok," You snort, smiling.

"You're just all over me like a fucking uh--"

"Koala?"

"Nah, more like one of those bigass fucking boa constrictors, y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"A boa constrictor?" You gasp, jokingly offended at his words. Shifting from your position you eye your boyfriend. "You asshole!" Grabbing a small pillow from beside you, you hit him square in the chest repeatedly.

You're hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the couch below him.

"Hey, hey!" He laughs, attempting to grab your wrists. "This is domestic abuse! ABUSE! ABUSE! Greg call the cops, she's beating me!"

Somewhere in the distance you can only faintly hear Greg stutter something, but your laughter is too loud to actually make it out.

Roman finally grabs the decorative pillow out of your hands and flings it somewhere.

His brown hair is messy, strands dangle in front of his eyes, no longer slicked back and proper. The laughter dies down but his bright smile remains, melting your heart.

"You're an absolute prick, Roman Roy, y'know that?" You whisper, lips lingering right over his.

"Oh I know," He smirks, irritatingly handsome like usual, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. "And you fucking love it."

Surging up, his lips connect with yours, traces of coconut and pineapple left on his tongue. The sweetness of rum mingles with the fruity aftertaste.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes and place your hands on either side of his face, leaning into the kiss. Roman's light scruff rubs against your palms.

Eventually you pull back in order to breathe in the salty Mediterranean air. Roman's lips chase after your own, hoping to continue and subsequently never stop again.

"Yeah, I do." You sigh, gazing at his eyes as they turn into a molten shimmering gold hue in the afternoon sun.

•

[coriolantha]

‧˚₊•୨ Patience ୧•‧₊˚⊹

mike schmidt x GN! reader

summary: mike comforts you after you've had a long day₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆୨୧˚

tags: fluff, mike being a sweetheart (as always), anxiety, reader has bad self image, insecurities, reader is overwhelmed and needs a break (so real), hugging, cuddling, comfort

wc: 1.1k

notes: hii this is my first fic i've posted on here. ngl i'm... scared. im not proud of this but i can't scrap it this time otherwise i'm never gonna get anything posted LMAO. please leave any criticism in the comments if you'd like, feel free to share any opinions, i want to improve the quality of my writing! thank you sm for reading! 🫶

today has been punishing.

rain trickled down the foggy window, making soft tapping sounds as they hit and fell, reluctantly racing down to gather in the weep holes. the rough, scratchy carpet beneath you beginning to burn as you shuffled around your desolate home.

exhausted, you gave up trying to distract yourself from your main task; your bedroom.

your eyes darted around your cluttered room, glossing over as you noticed every individual piece of clothing that wasn't hung up, organized, and neatly put away. you began to have a headache thinking about where to even begin. you felt like a filthy slob, your surroundings perfectly reflecting how you've felt all day.

you flicked the lights off, the warmly lit room now becoming pitch black, except for the small gleam of light that came through the open door. you sat on your bed, absentmindedly kicking your various pants and t-shirts away from you to give yourself some room to lay down.

mike wouldn't be back home for a while now. it was only 12:45am, which gave you 5 hours and 25 minutes to attempt to sleep before having to get ready for your office job... which would leave little to no time to spend with mike.

fuck mondays.

turning over to your side, you hugged your knees, shivering. no amount of blankets could fix how cold you felt. the truth was, you missed your boyfriend; longing for his cozy hugs and soft, gentle kisses he'd press against your cheek as he consoled you.

you missed him more than anything in the world.

with a blink, the tears that have been collecting in your eyes came down your flushed face at once. laying there, you accepted your pitiful reality, slowly drifting off into unwanted slumber, in solitude.

the time was around 2am when you felt a dip into the bed. panicking, you quickly awoke, shuffling to sit up as fast as possible. although you didn't know of the time, something felt off. mike wasn't supposed to be home yet, that's for sure.

panic turned into confusion as you heard mike, obviously feeling guilty for having jumpscaring you so badly.

"oh, shit- baby, it's me," he whispered apologetically, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek. turning on the dim lamp, he quickly turned back to face you. his eyes bore into yours, scanning to make sure you were going to be alright.

all day he was desperate to see your face, even after his shorter-than-usual-shift. mike couldn't get enough of your perfection, although you always brushed him off whenever he ever mentioned this to you.

he noticed your terrified expression which started to wear off, beginning to blend into relief.

"it's just me... you don't need to worry about anything, okay? i'm right here, no one's gonna hurt you," he muttered, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on your lips, lingering longer than usual.

weight lifted off your shoulders as you began to put pieces together. now, all you needed was an answer to your burning question.

"mike, why did you come home so early? did something happen?" you asked anxiously, looking right back at your boyfriends affectionate, adoring eyes.

"oh, sweetheart..." he soothed, "i got let out early today. nothing worth worrying about. i guess they didn't need me as much as i thought they did," he let out a quick, dry laugh, shaking his head dismissively.

"fuck, i've missed you all day, i'm so damn glad i could leave that job early. anything to see you, my love," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, delicately tucking it behind your ear

you were in awe; it was a miracle he came home early, especially today. you were fighting to hold your tears back, mouth quivering as you bit your bottom lip. mike noticed your change in emotion immediately.

"hey hey hey," he whispered urgently, quickly grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "what's wrong?" his voice drowned in concern.

"i did nothing all day. the only thing i've done is just stand around and... thought of doing something, but i couldn't. i was so tired, but of what? like, why didn't i clean our room? and the worst part is, you have to come home, tired as hell, ready to go to sleep, only to see your messy room and your partner who still hasn't done anything about it," you quavered, sniffling softly as warm tears fell from your eyes.

mike said nothing, but you could sense how hurt he felt after you talked so badly about yourself. he sighed, laying down on the plush mattress. he patted his chest, inviting you to rest your head there. you did so immediately, closing your eyes as you listened closely to his heart beat.

"you know i love you, right?" he asked gently. you stayed quiet, knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.

"i love everything about about you. but the only thing i don't love is how badly you talk of yourself. i hate it. it doesn't make any sense to me," he stressed, stroking your hair soothingly.

"so what if our room is messy? i don't think about that when i come home. all i think about is how i can finally be with you. i'm not going to let some clothes on the floor get in the way of us, ever. or anything, in fact."

you nodded in agreement silently, your tears dry on your cheeks.

"we can tackle this room together. we can do this however you want- i can pick up your clothes while you organize them into whichever area they go to, and i'll pick up my clothes too, but you won't have to organize that, i'll take care of it. how does that sound?" he asked delicately.

you instantly felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

"thank you so much, mike. you don't know how much i needed you today," you exhaled, "really."

he looked down lovingly at you, curled up beside him. he kissed your head tenderly, rubbing up and down your back.

goosebumps spread across your arms. you felt so loved and safe.

"the real question is," you suddenly asked, "how are you so perfect? were you made in a factory or something?"

"says you," he laughed, holding you tighter.

the two of you basked in the love you had for one another for a while. no words were exchanged, only him occasionally rubbing his thumb against your arm, while you began to doze off, which caught his attention.

"want me to turn the light off?"

you nodded, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

he turned over once more, pulling the cord of the lamp light, the room now pitch black.

"i love you," he whispered, turning to his side a little more so he could be pressed closer against you.

"i love you too, mike. always," you mumbled back, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊୨୧₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊

dividers by @f-loqweres 🫶

[gaysindistress]

Hiya ❤️ would you maybe do buck imagine for my bday tomorrow for me? I'd really need some distraction atm. One where you have a crush on each other but of course don't talk about it. Then one night you enter the living room all dressed up for a date and buck is totally flashed by you, until you ask for his opinion for it. When he realizes this is for another guy he gets all bad mooded and leaves. Then instead of your date, you head to Buckys room and decide to finally make a move and kiss him and admit your feelings, which leads to also sleeping together and lots of cute Bucky afterwards? 🙊

Hi babes!!! Im so sorry I didn’t reply to this sooner. I wanted to wait until I finished the fic before I answered. I left it more suggestive but there’s plenty of cute Bucky!!

Warnings: cursing and suggestive content

“I told you to stay back! Do you ever listen?” Bucky sneers when he spots a furry of black rush past him into the open courtyard.

“Yeah just not to you. I’ve learned to tune out your voice,"I plainly state back, tucking myself behind a cement pillar after making a mad dash across the courtyard.

“Would it kill you to put your ego aside for one mission? For…” he’s interrupted by the rain of bullets coming his way and he drops down to the ground, “Sam do you copy?”

“Loud and clear,” he answers through their earpieces, “It looks like there’s about five guys shooting at you. Want Redwing to take them out?”

Bucky’s nose flares at the mention of the godforsaken machine but concedes, “Cover her and I’ll do it.”

“Excuse me? I don’t need anyone’s…” a shriek cuts me short and the sound of my own bullets confirms that I do, in fact, need help and Redwing is on it within seconds, taking out the offended men.

“What was that?” Bucky tries not to sound mocking but it’s just too good of a moment to miss.

“Shove it, Barnes. You’re the one who doesn’t immediately think of his bionic arm because he’s right handed.”

“Sam you told her about that? That’s it. Both of you are fired when we get back.”

We chuckle at his false threat and focus on the task at hand; getting inside of the looming concrete building, extract the intel, and get out in one piece.

“Sammmmmmmmmm…”

The man glances up from the book he is reading at the sound of his name being drawn out, “yesssssss y/nnnnnnn?”

“I need to talk to you,” I nervously whisper, twisting around to see if anyone is in the room. Slipping his bookmark into the book, Sam sets it down and sits back against the couch, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“I swear to god if this has to be with robo cop, your free therapy sessions will come to an end,” he teased me but comes off harsher than he intended and he cringes when my face falls.

“Oh it’s okay. I’m sorry to bother you,"I quickly try to recover the social blunder I’ve made but he grabs my wrist and tells me to sit my ass back down.

“You’re not bothering me and you know better than to take me seriously,” he gently chides me as he pulls me into his side, “what did he do now?”

Fingers twist in uncomfortable angles as I ring my hands together in my lap. Regret starts to fill me and pushes against me like the strong coastal winds, trying to shove me off of the couch and out of the room.

“Nothing. I just…I just hate it, ya know? I hate the whole shitty back and forth we have and how he’s always such an asshole but only to me. I hate that…” I trail off and lean my head on Sam’s shoulder, “I hate that I can’t just tell him how I feel. At this point just getting it off my chest is all I want; I don’t care if he feels the same. I wouldn’t even care if he rejected me, as long as I just didn’t have to live with this disgusting school girl crush.”

Sam chuckles, “have you tried talking to him?”

“We are talking about the same person here, right?”

Although I can’t see him, I can feel the eye roll and heat it in the sarcasm that drips from his voice.

“I will shove you off this couch, I’m trying to HELP you,” he jokingly pushes me away causing us to both laugh, “if you won’t talk to him, then why not move on?”

My laughter dies instantly.

Move on?

Move on?

Move fucking on?

“It’s not that simple,” I snipe at Sam and he hisses from the fake burn of my words.

“It was a suggestion. You don’t have to listen to it,” he says with mock defensiveness.

Another fit of laughter overcomes us and I fall into his lap, completely unaware of how this might look to others. That is until we hear a snort of disgust from the doorway.

The owner?

The one and only Bucky Barnes.

I scramble off of Sam and clear my throat, embarrassed that Bucky walked past.

“Come on, Sam. You can do better than her,” he says with a scowl before striding down the hallway again.

Sam’s jaw tenses and he’s muttering to himself as he stands, taking off after the super solider. He pauses at the door, “I’m sorry for him.”

“It’s fine,” I mumble but it’s not convincing enough.

“No it’s not and I’m going to kick his ass for it. And for the record I think you should at least try and date other people.”

I give him a small smile as he turns and takes off after Bucky, shouting the whole way that he better be ready to get his ass whopped.

Try and date other people.

Try and date other people.

Try and date other people.

It feels deeply wrong to even think about dating other people but Bucky clearly isn’t in a place to even hear my feelings for him.

I pull my phone out and open the most god forsaken app to ever exist; Tinder.

The profile that Yelena and Natasha helped me make has several matches and unread messages but I haven’t had the heart to respond or even open them. Scrolling aimlessly, I pick someone random and message him back.

I have to at least try no matter how loud my heart is screaming at me.

Nelly Furtado and Megan Thee Stallion have been on repeat for the last three maybe four hours. I’m sure everyone is annoyed and would be banging on my door, shouting at me to turn it off if Sam hadn’t told literally every single person in the tower that I had a date. Tony clapped me on the shoulder, congratulating me for getting out there while Yelena and Natasha demanded to know every detail about this mystery man. I promised Sam that I wouldn’t forget this and he better be ready to lose next time we spar during training. His usual smile dropped as the fear of god struck him. Well the fear of ME struck him.

Smoothing my dress down, I cock my head at my reflection in the mirror. I have to admit that I look stunning in the simple fitted dress that Natasha practically ordered I wear. It’s a tie dye pattern of cream and red with thin straps and a scoop neckline that shows off the star pendant necklace that Tony and Pepper gave me when I first moved in. A “welcome to the tower and good luck” gift as he put it with a teasing smile. Simple hoops line my ears and two matching bracelets adore my wrists however the simplicity of my outfit feels over the top. I’d changed my shoes about 40 times and settled on a pair of tan platform sandals but something is nagging at me to change again.

I check the time and curse under my breath when I see that I need to leave in 5 minutes, which certainly isn’t enough time to change everything. The thought of canceling occurs to me but I know I’ll never hear the end of it.

Checking my reflection one last time, I grab my phone and shove it in my purse before leaving my room. Normally I’d be able to tell if someone was in the common living room but I’m too distracted by hyping myself up for this date to notice that there is someone sitting on the couch.

A certain asshole who never fails to piss me off but also makes me fall for him even more to be exact.

I come to a halt when I feel his presence and duck behind the wall, praying he didn’t see me. Peaking my head out, I’m relieved that he hasn’t and my heart clenches at the sight. Bucky looks so peaceful sitting on the couch dressed in a hoodie and joggers with a well loved book in his lap. Although his hood is pulled up, his ruffled hair peeks out, having grown longer and longer with each passing day. When I first met him, he was damn near bald with his short cropped hair but he’s let it grow long enough that he has to push it back every now and again. I jokingly offered him a hair tie during training one day after I saw how frustrated he was getting with it. He snatched it from me with a grumble and sported a unicorn hair for the remainder of training. Sometimes I think I see that black hair tie on his wrist but he’s all too eager to get away from me for me to properly look.

“I can feel you staring, pervert,” his voice cracks from not being used in hours and I flinch at the sudden noise.

“I’m not staring,” I weakly mumble and step back into the living room.

He hasn’t looked up from his book, still reading the pages as he speaks to me, “yes you were.”

I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him which of course, he somehow sees. It’s beyond me how he can literally sense everything except for my feelings towards him.

His piercing eyes flicker up at me for a brief moment and back to his book before doing a double take.

“Where are you going?”

His question catches me off guard and I scowl at him, “what are you? My dad?”

His jaw twitches but he says nothing.

Satisfied that I got the best of him, I push my luck and ask him, “how do I look? Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Apparently that’s a big fucking mistake because he’s up and storming out of the room like a fucking child without a single word.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble under my breath and go after him, “Barnes! I asked you a question, don’t you know it’s rude to storm off and not answer when someone asks you something?”

The behemoth of a man still says nothing as he continues to stomp down the hall.

“Bucky!” I shout at him and he stills right at his door. His left hand is gripping his door knob and I can hear it crumble under its strength. He doesn’t turn to look at me. No no he turns his head just enough to side eye me as he spits out, “fuck off, Y/N.”

The use of my first name takes me back. He never calls me y/n, not even when he’s furious with me for not falling orders. It’s always my last name, Agent, or some rude nickname and on very rare occasions when he’s flirting with me to be a dick, doll.

“Excuse me?” I scoff at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I said fuck off,” he grits out as he rips the door open and tries to slam it shut but my hand stops him.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, no matter how much you hate me. What is your deal anyways? All I did was ask if you liked my outfit which shouldn’t matter to you anyways,” I tell him as I shove into his room. It’s his turn to be taken aback and he stumbles backwards when I push through.

“You’ve made it very clear that you despise me and I, for the life of me, cannot figure out why,” my pent up frustration and anger come spilling out as I continue to tell him off, “I was nothing but kind and friendly when I first got here but you? You were a dick from day one and only to me! You didn’t treat Yelena or even fucking Sharon that way. It was just me and it got worse! Oh my god it’s gotten so much worse and whether or not you want to believe it, I’m a person who has feelings! I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve cried in the shower because of you. It got so bad that I would cry myself to sleep like a fucking idiot and someone had to sit with me until I fell asleep so I wouldn’t throw myself into a goddamn panic attack. Poor Sam almost moved in because he was the only one that could calm me down. Did you know that?”

He’s staring at me with wide eyes but not a single emotion crosses over them. It makes me unbelievably angry that my outburst doesn’t even phase him.

So I keep going, “and you want to know the worst part? The day I got here, Tony was showing me around and he brought me into the kitchen where everyone was eating. You were there, flirting with Sam just to piss him off but you looked so happy. You were laughing and smiling so much that Tony, fucking Tony made a comment about how that was the happiest he’d seen you in a while. You hadn’t seen us yet but when you did, you gave me that charming Brooklyn smile and it was all over for me. From that single smile, I knew I was screwed because I’d caught feelings for you. Not that it mattered though because within a matter of hours, you lost that smile and were so awful. I tried so hard to make you like me but nothing. If anything it made you hate me even more but no matter what, I’ve always had these…feelings for you that I don’t want anymore. I don’t want to look at you and feel my heart breaking because you don’t feel the same way. I don’t want to pick apart every person I talk to because they’re not you and I hate that they’re not. I don’t want to cry to Sam about how it feels like a piece of me is dying when I’m not around you but you want nothing to do with me. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, Bucky. I can’t… I can’t feel like this.”

By the end of my confession, the tears I swore I would never shed again have fallen. They ruin the makeup I spent an hour putting on, pretending it was a date with Bucky because thinking about Miguel makes my skin crawl. I know I look like a mess but I don’t care. I’ve said my peace finally and while it’s embarrassing and I know I’ll regret it later, it’s done. Maybe now I can move on or at least find comfort in knowing that I won’t have to face Bucky again and live with these disgusting unrequited feelings.

He’s still said nothing, hasn’t moved or otherwise acknowledged that he’s heard me. He just stands there, staring at me with a clenched jaw and completely still. The only noises that fill his room are my sniffles and the subtle whirring of his arm as he clenches his hands into fists.

Of course he wouldn’t say anything. Why would he? It’s not surprising but hurtful regardless because I would’ve hoped he’d find a shred of kindness to show me under all of that hatred.

I shake my head as I turn to leave, unable to deal with him and with the fact that I’m now late for my date. My phone buzzes and I’m greeted with a rather rude message from Miguel about how unattractive it is that I’m late and didn’t even give him a heads up. It takes everything in me to not scream as loud as I can and throw my phone against the wall. Instead I settle for angrily shoving it back into my purse while more than a few foul words fall from my lips.

A cold metal hand clasps onto my wrist as I pull open the door and I look down at it in shock.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky whispers, his grip gentle but inescapable all the same. I want to tear myself away but he’s touching me. My heart begins to pound at the connection between us and I let out a shuttered breath.

“You can start by apologizing for how you talked to me,” I manage to say with a voice that is steadier than my breathing.

“I’m sorry, doll. Not just for that but for everything. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I made you cry and made you think I hated you. I’m sorry I ever treated you the way that I did. No one deserves that and especially not you,” he says in a low voice while slowly closing the distance between us. His hand slides up my arm until it rests on my bicep and he asks for me to come closer too with a soft squeeze.

“I know actions are louder than words and if you’ll let me, I will do anything you ask of me to make it up to you. All you have to do is ask, doll and I swear I’ll do it,” his voice cracks with emotions that I never thought he could feel. Tears brim his eyes as he looks at me with such hope that I feel my own threaten to start falling again.

“No,” it shocks me just as much as it shocks him. His hand loosens and falls to his side.

“No,” I breathe out, “I can’t…that’s….Bucky I just admitted that I’m in love with you and that’s all you have to say? I appreciate the effort but it’s not…no it’s not enough.”

“You’re in love with me?”

Disbelief laces his words and I let out a scoff because he can’t be fucking serious right now.

“Don’t… don’t make me say it,” I stammer over my words as my sobs get caught in my throat.

He blinks at me for a moment before repeating it more to himself than me, “you’re in love with me.”

I wait with bated breath as he processes the revelation. He takes a sudden step forward and I take one back out of habit. Pain explodes onto his face as he steps back again and I swear to god I’ve never felt my heart break as much as it is now.

“Don’t play with my emotions, Bucky,” I hiss, the words harsher than I intend

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters while running a hand through his hair, “do you really think I’d do something like that?”

An answer materializes on my tongue but I can’t say it and he learns it from the struggle in my eyes.

“Wow, I…I can’t believe that you think that low of me.”

“No, I don't because I think the world of you.”

He shakes his head, “don’t play with my emotions either, doll.”

“Considering that I don’t know what they are most of the time, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

There’s a shift in the tension and I can’t place what. Bucky straightens his shoulders and looks at me with a new intensity. He attempts another step in my direction and when I don’t back away, he begins to prowl towards me.

“I’m not good with words.”

“Trust me I’m aware.”

“I haven’t been able to think about my own wants and needs until recently.”

He backs me into the door but stays a foot or so away from me.

“Where are you going with this?” My voice is whinier than I’d hoped and I pray to god he doesn’t notice.

But he does and the smile that hooked me in the first place overtakes his face.

“Anywhere you want me to, doll. If you want me to give you space, I’ll give it to you even though it’ll break me,” he whispers seriously, “If you want me to grovel until we’re both old and forget why, I’ll gladly get on my knees for you right now. If you want me to show you how I feel, all you have to do is say yes.”

Hesitation creeps up on me because I know what I want and what I want is not what I need.

“Yes.”

Bucky takes the final steps and pins me against the door, both arms caging me in so I have nowhere to go. My hands fly up to his shoulders as he leans in, not quite letting our lips touch.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispers against my lips before his descends upon mine. I half expected him to devour me but it’s unhurried, slow and languid as our lips move in sync. I can feel his love in the way that his tongue slides against my bottom lip before slipping in. He’s gentle with me as his hands move to cradle my head and pull me impossibly closer. He's apologizing for the tears and angst I’ve felt as my phone rings and he silences it without breaking our kiss. He’s showing that he’ll spend as long as it takes to show his love for me as he urges me to wrap my legs around his waist and takes me to his bed.

My phone rings again and he lets out a frustrated growl as he breaks our kiss to answer it. He rolls his eyes at the name that flashes and presses the answer button with a little too much aggression.

“Hello?”

I can’t hear what Miguel says but Bucky’s replies are very clear.

“This is her boyfriend.”

“Since when? Since right fucking now.”

He hangs up and tosses my phone to the other side of his bed.

“Boyfriend, huh?” I tease however it falls short when he dips his head to my neck, licking and sucking at my skin.

“Have a problem with it, doll?”

“Not at all.”