#is that it just sits with you. for like. months to years.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

a/n. hiii my ihm darlings!! i don't have much to say in this beginning author's note haha but i have some author's notes at the end if you want to read them. but anywho hope you enjoy this chapterrr :)

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Ovulation is a very scary thing.

You can imagine many great women have had their lives greatly affected by this phenomenon. 

This biological release of an egg into the fallopian tubes, simply desiring to be fertilized.

Women who have had their hearts set on their dreams, aspirations, full speed ahead towards the finish line on the other end,

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man. 

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

You’re pretty sure Sabrina Carpenter has a song about it.

This is what you think of as you lean over the kitchen island, perched up on your elbows as you eat a peach, staring straight ahead at a certain fake husband who is seated on the couch. 

He’s looking at the TV, watching some SNL skit he didn’t get to finish last weekend, tilting his head side to side with his grey sweatpant clad legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’s got a can of Celsius he’s swirling around with a loose grip, his elbow up on the cushion for a more lax resting state (which unfortunately also flexes his bicep very sexily from the positioning), and he doesn’t really seem particularly amused by what he was watching. And for some reason, it was hot.

You tilt your head to the right, watching him like a predator from across the hall, chewing down on a particularly juicy piece of peach that bursts its juice in your mouth, and you curse the fact that all you can think about right now is sex.

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

You postulated a little over a month ago when you and Choso were still together.

Granted, you’ve been too busy and overwhelmed and overstimulated with all the recent happenings of late to provide your own self with any sort of relief.

And God, it was showing.

Showing in the way that, no matter what, you can’t seem to shake the idea of wanting to sit in Gojo’s lap and be the second reason he never gets to finish watching that SNL skit. 

Maybe it will help.

Maybe sitting in a man’s lap right now would heal you.

You set the now naked seed of peach down on the counter before straightening yourself up and walking around the kitchen island towards the living room. Gojo’s eyes don’t flicker to you until you’re well in his periphery, and when he looks up at you, he straightens himself up on the couch with curious wide eyes and drags his feet off the coffee table to plant his feet on the rug.

You pull your grandma nightgown up to your knees so that you can sit in his lap, surprise evident on his face as he watches your every movement before you’re comfortably seated on him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

“Wh–” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you just told me to fuck you.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” The heels of your hands press into his chest further to the point where it has to hurt. 

“Is this a prank,” he asks as his hands fall to hold your hips on reflex.

You sigh, shifting around on his thighs. “Can you just do it already before I change my mind?”

“Wow. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind.”

You push off of his shoulders and stand up on one leg, ready to get up and away from him to find some other way to satisfy your desperate desire for a penis, but he reaches out to grab your wrist.

“Heyyy wait wait wait,” he says, pulling you back into a seat on his lap. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?”

You exhale slowly, twiddling with your thumbs as you look at him. “You said it yourself the other day,” you say, “good way to relieve stress.”

“And you’re not gonna kill me afterwards?”

“Umm no promises?”

“Look, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, a part of me thinks you’re making a…rash decision here.”

“Oh my fucking god who cares if I am?? Maybe I just wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?? What’s the big fucking deal??”

“The big deal is that, knowing you, you’re not going to speak to me or look me in the eye for three weeks if I let you go through with something you’re not a hundred percent on.”

Your shoulders sulk a little. You thought this would be an easy yes, where he tears your nightgown off and then ravishes you whole on this couch with every primal caveman instinct that’s encoded in his XY chromosome DNA. This was supposed to be spontaneous and sexy…not a candid conversation.

The thought flashes through your head that maybe he thinks that you’re just trying to use him.

“I want to have sex with you,” you clarify. And then a pause. “I think.” You pause for a moment again. “I’m, like, pretty sure.”

He slides you back to where you’re sitting closer to his knees than to his groin, and then fully leans back onto the couch before tucking his hands behind his head like he was physically putting himself in cuffs to prevent himself from touching you any further. “Tell you what. Let’s circle back in an hour, and if you still want to, then sure.”

“I cannot believe how diplomatic you’re being about this.”

“Well isn’t this whole thing between us a diplomatic agreement? That’s what you said to me when we got fake engaged.”

“That–” you blink at him, not expecting those words to eventually be used against you, “...whatever.”

“Also, what happened to the no sex rule?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins and leans forward, both of his elbows settling onto the top of the cushion behind him, and you’re proud of yourself for only staring at his biceps for 0.000034 seconds before meeting his line of sight again. 

“Are those rules just suggestions?” he asks with a stupidly teasing look on his face. 

You purse your lips together, skin feeling warm suddenly as you try to push him away by a palm to his sternum. But then you realized something. A fundamental rule of biology. The woman never chases. 

You smile at him, cheeky in a deceptive way that’s meant to scare him, and it does seem to alarm him when you push him back onto the couch rather forcefully. His hands fall to hold your hips again as he looks at you with round eyes, and you scoot forward on his lap, to where you’re almost sitting right above his groin. 

“Hey–” he says, like a warning. 

Like some awful romantic comedy, you’re drawing the tip of your nail down the front of his chest seductively, leaning forward so he catches the faint scent of the perfume you spritzed onto your skin in the morning, and you can tell it’s working from the way he tips his chin up in interest. You innocently “shift” in his lap to get comfortable, and see his throat bob when he swallows hard from the feeling. The finger that’s been running down the soft linen of his shirt trails up until it runs through the hair at the back of his neck, and he’s pulling you closer to him now by a rough grip on your hips. His breathing picks up, eyes somehow wild yet calm as he looks at you with a set jaw, and you try your best to maintain a sultry expression as you tilt your head down at him while strongly fisting at the longer strands of his hair that fall short at the nape of his neck. He shifts underneath you, sinking further into the couch, his breathing fast enough to where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze finally dropping to your lips as he parts his own, and he briefly runs his tongue over his bottom lip before–

Before the doorbell rings. 

You both blink at each other.

You don’t even realize how close you two were to making out until you realize you can’t even see the tip of his nose anymore. 

“My, uh,” he starts, voice sounding gruff so he has to clear his throat, “my wood just came.”

“Y–” you glance down at his lap, “your wood just what?!”

He leans away from you, sinking his back into the cushion and pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the door. “The cedar planks I ordered to finish my woodworking project. Pretty sure they just got dropped off.”

You blink at him, releasing the grip you still had on the hair at the back of his head, your arms moving to weakly rest on his shoulders instead. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

“Can…can I head to the door? Is that allowed?”

“...I suppose.”

His fingers that were still resting under your butt in a strong grip push up gently on the flesh to prod you off of him, and you (reluctantly) swing your legs off of his lap then slump down onto the couch indignantly beside him, twiddling with your thumbs as you watch him get up off the cushions with a small grunt from the push of his palms on his knees. And then he heads to the door.

Continuing to assess your cuticles with the tuck of your chin towards your collarbone, you hear Gojo talk to whoever was at the door. Another masculine voice. Sounds younger, probably younger than you. Delivery boy. Gojo makes easy conversation with him, some buddy-buddy diction that’s entirely lost on you, and you hear the other man laugh. And the fact that you feel equally as possessed to want to fuck the delivery man makes you realize you need to put yourself in a cage the next time you feel like this.

You hear the door close along with the metallic click of the lock, and you peak your head up over the top of the couch to look at Gojo, who is leaning a giant cardboard box that looks really heavy against the wall. He then exhales, dusting his hands off and he’s stretching his neck from side to side again.

He glances over his shoulder to find you still looking at him.

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Is that the noisy thing you do at six in the morning while I’m trying to sleep after a night shift?!?!”

“It’s not that noisy,” he says, leaning back onto the wall and crossing his arms. Then he grins. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.” He jerks his head towards the kitchen leading out to the screen door of the backyard. And then he’s shuffling his feet off into that direction. “Humor me for once.”

You slide off the couch onto the floor, grumbling something to yourself before you stand up onto your feet and shuffle your feet across the hardwood floor to follow him, the hem of your nightgown sliding across the surface.

Gojo pulls the screen door back and you step out into the pleasant afternoon. It’s sunny, with crisp air that settles on your senses, the casted shadows of clouds that slowly pass over the grass reminding you of your childhood, or perhaps of simpler times.

You step into the flip flops you see near the shoe mat, and they are nearly twice the size of your feet. Gojo opts for the dustier pair located behind the grill and then he walks across the grass of his backyard towards the shed tucked away near the side of the house. You’ve always been able to briefly see this shed from one of the windows in your house, but you could never see what went on inside. 

He unclasps the metal lock on the wooden door of the shed and pulls it open with a creak. You peer inside, the smell of wood shavings and some other rather comforting chemicals hitting you almost instantly. You also sneeze. And then sneeze again.

“Bless you,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you before he takes a step inside. You cross your arms and rub your elbows, feeling feeble in your ditsy nightgown as you step into a space that looks far too industrial for you. 

“See?” Gojo says once you’re fully inside the shed with him, drawing your gaze from the dusty ceilings towards the covered structure in the center of the workspace. He pulls the blue tarp back, revealing something square-looking. “It’s a coffee table.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you tilt your head to assess it. “Oh. It’s–...it’s actually quite nice.”

“Yeah.” He knocks on the surface with his knuckles. “It’s pretty sturdy. I’ve been looking to replace what I’ve got in the house for a while now. And–” he straightens himself up again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That wood I just got delivered is black walnut. Stunning stuff. I’m going to use it to finish the corners and the cabinets.”

“Ahhh,” you say, expressing interest. I mean, you were intrigued by his many strange hobbies. How can you explain this…you suppose after many years of working, sleeping, eating, and taking care of your mom, it's somewhat pleasantly disorienting to find yourself in the middle of a normal person’s life. Someone who has time to woodwork in his free time. Endearing. It was kind of endearing. 

“I’ve gotta flip it over though,” he says with a sigh, “I fucked up and forgot to build the base first.”

You lean back on one of the cabinets behind you that was level with your hip, and you watch Gojo for a moment as he bends down to assess all angles of the table before he grips the underside of it with his hands, the strength of his grip evident in the strain of the veins running up his arms and disappearing into the short sleeve cotton of his shirt. 

But he glances up at you before moving it. “Can you stand over there?”

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize you were standing in quite literally the exact zone of potential danger. You make a mental note to work on your survival instincts. 

You lean off of the cabinet and step off to the side. 

You watch as he begins to lift up on the table, his biceps flexing with the movement, oh and that grunt that leaves his lips once he’s got it at the angle he wants hits you somewhere you wish it didn’t. The sight of him leaning over, letting out a slow exhale as he slowly sets the table down on its side over the cushioning mat had you in a trance. 

Once he’s satisfied with wherever it’s at, he steps away from it and dusts his hands off. “Alright.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Got an hour to work on this.”

You nod at him.

He glances over at you. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

“Nope,” you say, shuffling your slippers to the other side of the door. Because you fear that catching the sight of him all sweaty and disheveled from woodworking would get you into serious trouble today. At least you know when to call it quits.

In the hour that Gojo spends doing god knows what sort of manly sorcery in that shed, you get dressed into something that wasn’t a cozy nightgown much to your dismay, and head over to your house next door. You figure you could use this time to clean up the place a little so that you can take pictures for the house on Zillow. 

When you step inside the house, the nauseating smell of medication hits you. It’s a smell that you can only know if you’ve lived with it for years. Something artificial, something that smells–...well, sick. It’s a scent you associate with sickness. It hits you randomly sometimes with the patients that you treat at the hospital. Patients that smell just like your mom does. Something akin to a pill closet. You’ve always cursed the human tendency to assort semantics to certain senses, because then it only takes away all the healing you thought you had gotten through.

You walk down the hall towards your mother’s bedroom. You figured you’d start here first, since it would be the most difficult to clean for you. Her bed is set up neatly, exactly as you left it before she left for hospice three weeks ago. 

Her well-worn rocking chair sits near the window with the old knit blanket she made over twenty years ago draped over it. It faces the window instead of the inside of the house, which was a habit she always had throughout her life. Maybe as an art teacher, she always felt that whatever was outside was more intriguing than within. 

You run a hand by the sturdy wooden dresser covered in dust and scattered medications, along with all of your mother’s draped headscarves. She liked to change them every day, the pattern of each of them aggressively absurd and somewhat hypnotizing, but it fits for her age–that sort of clothing. Your mother used to have beautiful hair. It was something all her friends had always been jealous of. She made the decision to shave it all off rather than watch as it slowly detangled from her hair from chemo, and she claims to have stashed it away somewhere, but you know that she likely donated it instead.

When you make it to her desk, you see paint splattered over it with a rusted easel holding up a blank canvas. But there were swipes of paint across the palette, as though she were trying to find the perfect blend of colors, but failed before she could put brush to canvas. Beside her little art setup, you see a little sticky note with scribblings on it.

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson 

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes. 

All of this life.

You slowly peel the sticky note off the desk, folding it neatly before placing it into your pocket. Then you start with the canvas, the easel, the paint. Exactly as is, without cleaning anything at all, you stache them away into boxes. You wanted to preserve what you could, even if it was all for show.

By the time you finish cleaning out her desk, you feel winded from emotions. You decide to take a break and try to clean whatever was upstairs instead. Before you leave the room, you see another sticky note written behind the door.

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying. 

.

.

.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

”Hey,” you say as you walk back into Gojo’s house in the early afternoon, holding up a digital camera that you found in the attic in your hand. “The upstairs of my house is cleaned out now, and I’m almost done with the downstairs part…just waiting on finishing one room. Can we start taking photos to put the listing up online?”

Gojo glances up at you from where he’s stood in the kitchen, tugging at his sleeves, and you just now notice he’s dressed up in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie. “Uhh yeah I can help you with it, I’ve just gotta go run a few errands and then we can do it when I get back?” He ruffles his hair a bit and you see that it’s slightly damp like he just took a shower.

“What errands?”

“Gas, amazon return, Costco. Maybe get a donut if I’m feeling like being a bad boy.”

“Ew. Also, why don’t you get gas at Costco?”

“It’s a little cheaper at Sam’s Club.”

You gasp. “You have a Sam’s Club membership??”

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes as he pushes his shoulders back to get better settled into his suit jacket. “I have a Costco membership too.” 

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at you from the other side of the island, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh. Sure?”

You know it sounds silly to say, but not having to take care of someone twenty-four-seven has left you with little to no sense of purpose, and an even more intense feeling of loneliness. And as much as Gojo gets on your nerves from time to time, you’ve noticed that you’ve been…craving his presence lately. Or maybe a presence might be more accurate than any one specific person, but you can comfortably admit it to yourself that you’re a somewhat codependent person that enjoys being largely implemented into someone’s life. You’ve even started borderline nesting in his home. You bought two new fluffy throw blankets for his couch, set up a bowl of fruits at the center of the kitchen island, and stocked up on laundry detergent, even though he already had two backup boxes. It was driving you crazy. This feeling of having too much free time and personal space than what you knew what to do with.

And it had been a while since you went to Costco. The holy land for all adults. 

“Can I get this? Ohhhh what about this? Can we get this too? Wait. Wait. Brown sugar boba mochi?!” You hold the packet up into the air as if it were baby Simba in the Lion King, and then you turn to Gojo, clutching the bag to your chest. “Please?”

He exhales, leaning over the handle of the shopping cart and levels his gaze with you. “...no.”

You sulk your shoulders and sigh as you put it back.

He begins to push the cart down the aisle again. “You do realize that you have disposable income too, right?”

You trail after him. “No. I don’t. I’m in six figures of debt.”

He nods. “Fair.” And then he grabs a stray bag of brown sugar boba abandoned on top of the instant rice boxes then places it into the cart. 

You watch as Gojo makes his rounds around Costco, very diligently aligning all the items in his shopping cart and assessing the quality of each thing he crosses off his list before deeming it worthy of purchase. Much different than your usual Costco run, which involves a lot of chaos and sweat. And he feels very husband material like this. Breaking no sweat to put the garden fertilizer in the cart shelf meanwhile you would’ve pulled your back out trying to do the same if you were on your own.

As you two make your way through the store, you get stopped by the post-office man, and then the local judge, and then the elderly couple that runs the church's weekly Bingo nights. All greeting you politely with a quick exchange of words and usually a sweet regard for your mother’s health before passing on by. You keep having to introduce Gojo as your husband, and many of them already know who he is, despite the fact that he’s only lived here for a year, which royally pisses you off to great extents, but he’s a social whore so it makes sense. And then all of them coo sweet things like wow, what a beautiful couple and you’re so lucky to have each other and my oh my he’s very handsome and at this point you would pay someone twenty bucks to say something like well she’s a looker! good for you! to Gojo because you’re sick of him always getting the ego boosts. When asked where you guys went for your honeymoon, you both say “Greece–” “Maldives–” at the same time in typical unrehearsed fashion. One of the town locals even asks when the two of you are going to have a baby, and you almost snort your free sample of San Pellegrino out your nose.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps a little pep in your step is the fact that everyone greets you first before they catch the familiar sight of Gojo too. It’s a small thing to celebrate, but when you’ve lived in the same town your whole life, it becomes somewhat of a prideful and wholesome thing when the town librarian, local mechanic, and farmer’s market lady all stop you in your lovely little Costco stroll. It was all in a day’s work.

“Jeez, you’re hella famous, y/n,” Gojo says as he continues to push the cart down the aisle after you just got done catching up with the volunteer Fire Chief.

You toss your hair over your shoulder at him. “Yes. I am somewhat of a princess in this town.”

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

“Get your nasty degradation kink away from me, you perv. This is Costco. It’s the holy house of God.”

Once you two make it to the wine section, you stare at bottles of dessert wines and hear Gojo talking on the phone off to the side.

“Hey, Sana. I’m at Costco right now. Do you guys need anything? I already got Juno’s muffins,” he says into his phone as he places two containers of blueberry muffins into the cart. You eye the raspberry cream cheese strudels. “Huh? Cornstarch?....If I tried to look for cornstarch at Costco, I’d be here for three hours.”

“Satoru,” you say to him once he gets off the call, tugging at his sleeve, “could we get those Haagen Daz ice cream bars? They’re so good.”

“No,” he says, pushing the cart down the chip aisle before he grabs a bag of tortilla chips. “We can’t get anything that needs to be frozen or refrigerated. I’ve gotta go prep a house that’s in the area since we’re out this far. I’ve got an evening showing.”

“What?!” you exasperate, “I thought we were just going home after this!”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t believe this. I had been dreaming of grabbing those ice cream bars since you mentioned the word Costco back at home. You could’ve brought your little cooler thing that you keep in the garage.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted to come with me,” he says. “My original grocery list had seven non-perishable items on it.” You both glance at the cart, which was almost entirely full of things that you put in there. Things that nobody ever needs. Like a bladeless desk fan and an electric wine opener.

“Ah,” you say.

He smiles, leaning over the cart handle again and pushing it forward again away from the chilly air of the cooler section. “Retail therapy?”

You pout a little. “I haven’t had the chance in years.” You glance at the cart as he pushes it. “I should probably take it all out now.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get you your bladeless fan. And whatever the fuck those other things are.”

You stop walking, blinking blankly at his back as he continues to wordlessly push the cart forward. There’s about a five second delay before you finally start trailing after him.

By the time Gojo finishes loading everything into the trunk of his car as you merely stand by for emotional support, and then he comes back from the long trek of returning the cart, you’re absolutely winded. You’re not sure why, because again, you haven’t really done much all day. But God damn, you forgot how exhausting it is to be a regular functioning member of society that contributes to the economy on the weekends (you didn’t pay for anything).

Gojo wordlessly takes off from the Costco parking lot and just when you think he’s going to get back onto the freeway to get to this house of his that he needs to prep, he jumps into the parking lot of a small shopping area before he parks his car in front of a smaller grocery store. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“Hold on,” he says before clicking his seatbelt off, “gotta go get that cornstarch.”

“Wait—” you say, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve of his suit jacket as the most intense sensation of FOMO you’ve ever felt in your life overtakes all of your senses. “I’ll come with.”

He quirks a brow at you. You’re not surprised at his confusion. After all, you’ve been acting like some drug addict in withdrawal of social proximity to him all day long. But you’re at least glad he doesn’t express any further bewilderment and allows you to follow him inside the store like a duckling.

As Gojo veers off in the direction of likely corn starchiness, in a confident manner that would suggest he’s been to this store many times before, you meander about the aisles at your leisure. You get lost in the bustling colors of produce stacked neatly on top of one another, such that they could rival the great pyramids of Egypt. Not to mention, processed foods lining the wall right next to it. This was what suburban life is all about. Matter of fact, this is what dreams are made of. 

“y/n?”

Oh, fuck. That voice is definitely not what dreams are made of.

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

You turn on your heel to find none other than your ex boyfriend, he who shall not be named (Choso Kamo), standing right behind you as he holds a grapefruit in his hand, blinking at you dumbly with surprise apparent on his face. 

“Wh—” you briefly stutter before the automatic scowl settles onto your face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? To eat, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I’m not convinced you wouldn’t try to fuck that grapefruit. Given you have low standards for what you stick your dick inside of.”

“Uh?…I’ve stuck my dick inside of you plenty of t—”

“Shut it!!!” you yell at him, then turn away with a wince on your face. “I didn’t think it through before I said it.”

“As usual?”

“You’re being a jerk. You know who I meant when I said that.”

“Okay. So, you don’t think things through before you say them. And I continue to deflect said things. Let me know when anything’s changed between us, y/n.”

You cross your arms at him menacingly and unwaveringly glare at him as a meek mother pushes her young son by the shoulders away from the two simmering adults having their savory conversation within the produce aisle. You’re about the snark out another comment but then the automatic water sprayers interrupt your flow. And also a scrawny employee drops a giant box of eggplant onto the ground before placing them onto the produce shelf.

“What are you doing on this side of town? You’re never out here,” Choso says as he sets the grapefruit back onto the stack.

“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

“Why not go to the Trader Joe’s that we always used to go to? It’s way closer to you.”

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

Oh.

So, he’s been driving an extra thirty minutes each weekend to go grocery shopping on the other end of town,

Just so he doesn’t have to run into you anymore.

“Look…y/n,” he starts, “it’s not that I don’t want to see you—”

“Choso—”

“It’s just that you accuse me of fucking inanimate objects everytime I do see you.”

“I literally do not care if you do or don’t want to see me.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his gaze flitting downwards to your crossed arms, something catching his eye.

You glance down at yourself, and you catch the glimmer of diamond underneath bright fluorescent light.

“Oh come on,” Choso grumbles, “don’t tell me you actually wear that thing twenty-four-seven.”

“I’m a married woman, Choso. It’s what married women do.”

He clenches his jaw at that, tense enough to cause a vein strain in his neck, his brows narrowing into contempt, but just before he can say anything else, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re being pulled back into a broad chest.

“She’s pretty, huh?” you hear Gojo say and you blink up at him with your chin tilted towards the ceiling, and you yelp as he possessively pulls you in closer to him as he establishes jarring eye contact with Choso with that same old easy grin on his face. “Thank god I’m the one married to her.”

Choso almost blows a fuse at that. “I know she’s pretty,” he says through gritted teeth, “for six years, I was the one that got to f—”

“Ahh!!! Sale on tomatoes!!!” you interrupt the crass and ridiculously toxic masculine energy in the air as you wiggle out of Gojo’s grip then run over to the pristinely stacked romano tomatoes, picking some of them up and holding them like precious commodities. “Maybe we can make some tomato soup with grilled cheese tonight, honey???” you say with a forced smile towards Gojo as you now hold fifteen tomatoes in your arms, a couple of them falling to the floor with a bounce as they roll away.

“HEY!! LADY!!” the scrawny eggplant stacking employee from earlier yells out at you. Some late teens kid with acne speckled across his face and shaggy brown hair scattered over his forehead, somewhat slick with either gel or grease. “I just set those up!!! YOU SQUASH ‘EM, YOU BUY ‘EM.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out, putting the tomatoes back onto the display somewhat haphazardly before grabbing Gojo’s arm and tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here, please.”

“Huh? I’ve still gotta pay for the cornstarch though,” Gojo says, hardly budging despite your best efforts to womanhandle him.

“No time for that, we leave now. They don’t have cameras here, anyway. I already checked.” You continue to tug on his arm, your body leaning at an almost forty-five degree angle towards the exit as you struggle to get some drag to his feet, but again, he doesn’t budge.

You don’t know exactly why you so adamantly want to restrict Gojo from interacting with Choso, but maybe a part of it was embarrassment. You didn’t want Gojo to find out what Choso did to you and what an absolute fool he had made out of you. It would hurt your pride.

“Isn’t this guy a cop?” Gojo asks as he points his thumb towards Choso. “And you’re telling me to shoplift in front of him?”

“Can you just be on my fucking side for one second?” you grit at him, yanking on his sleeve so hard you almost tear the cuffs out of the holes, and he finally sighs before relenting into a gait towards your general direction.

As you hug Gojo’s arm tightly to keep his momentum towards you, you walk backwards and send Choso a nasty glare. His eyes are wide, studying you and Gojo together as you get further and further away from him. And for a brief, brief, brief, ever-so-slight fleeting moment of love and familiarity and the sight of his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the memory of warmth when he used to hold you in his arms in bed on cold winter mornings, you find that you miss him a little. But only a little. You swear that it’s only a little.

Gojo still makes a pit stop at the register much to your pleading dismay, but as always he has zero regard or interest for your melodramatic outbursts, but at least he shoves the extra change from the purchase into his pocket in a somewhat timely fashion so that you two can head out the door in your artificial haste.

In the car, you quickly click your seatbelt on and then have to watch Gojo as he takes his time clicking his back into place and enter some address into his car. You see the ETA on the GPS, and how it shows that this address is roughly thirty-four minutes away.

Once he gets onto the freeway, your mind begins to wander back to seeing Choso at the grocery store and how the sight of him rattled you. You twiddle with your thumbs in your lap nervously, shift around in your seat, chew at the edge of your nail, and Gojo seems to notice this.

“You know, having lived in this town your whole life, I would think you’d be used to the discomfort of running into people you don’t want to see,” he says.

You sigh. “Yes. In theory. But with Choso, it’s–…it’s different.” You hesitate.  “It’s just that—” you try again before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “it’s just that, sometimes I don’t get him.”

Gojo is silent for a few seconds as he stares straight towards the road before he responds with, “What do you mean?”

���Like, he avoids me like the plague, and then begs me to go back to him, and then he pretends like I’m just a nuisance to him, and then when he sees me with you, he acts all—…I don’t know…all—”

“Jealous?”

You sink into your seat. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t know. But you’re not wrong to find it strange.”

Feeling strangely validated in your feelings, you sit there twiddling with your thumbs and then glance out the window. There’s a silence that lasts maybe ten seconds before you say,

“Thanks for interrupting back there. Although, you don’t have to try to deliberately make him jealous anymore. Even though I know I literally asked you to do that. Which makes me a woman of severe psychiatric ailment. Of which I am slightly embarrassed about at the moment.”

“Nah,” he says as he turns the right onto the freeway entrance. When you look over at him, he has a smile on his face. “I like it. It’s never boring with you.”

Unsure if that’s a compliment or some shade of insult, you say, “and that’s a good thing?”

He shrugs, releasing one hand from the wheel and curling the other in a tight knuckled grip at the top of it as the car drives steady down the freeway. He rests his right elbow on the storage console. “Well, it’s different from what I’m used to.”

What are you used to? You so badly want to ask him.

But a flashback to his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house comes back to you.

Yearbook signatures, trophies, and photos abandoned underneath a bed.

You almost don’t even want to acknowledge that he has lived a life before you.

Was that self centered? Or perhaps childish? Or perhaps all in human nature?

You decide not to respond, instead directing your attention to the world outside the car window. The blades of grass dance across the shoulder of the road, all greenery following suit in the same swift motion. You watch as the land slowly turns from developed to more and more remote, yet still cozy and charming. Fields of green, vineyard arrangements, a wooden sign for a winery, a picturesque red barn house, a small cattle farm, an old town church with a bronze bell, hills of empty acres that are just begging to be touched by some great idea or civilization.

You’re privy to change in texture underneath the wheels as Gojo makes a turn onto gravel road about two miles after getting off the freeway. He drives up a hill, maybe a forty-five degree angle, with the crunch of rocks rubbing against the tread of the tires and you see a more distinct, purposeful arrangement of short decorative trees that line the properties of this narrow gravel road. They were large houses, sitting on slightly slanted hills that were all a part of a bumpy landscape that extends for miles. Some had formal fences, some had chain links, but all had expansive yards with no clear distinction of boundary, where the backyard could be the front yard too if only you had the imagination for it.

One house in particular catches your eye. It’s a pretty two story house with a detached garage or perhaps shed, painted in a dusky auburn with dark wooden paneling and structure. It sat near the top of this hill, the front yard being a steep upwards slope of grassy terrain that stretched for the full length of the property, about a hundred yards. The backyard dips behind the back of the hill, downwards into some territory you cannot set eyes on. But it’s stunning. It was gorgeous. Serene. With views of lush green surrounding its every corner. Intimately located, yet open enough to fresh air in which you almost feel one with the world. And in the early evening light, it looked like heaven.

You let out a slow exhale as you take in the sight that looks like a painting to you. There was something so romantic about a home. For as long as time, humans have enjoyed personifying objects, such as boats or planes or cars or  trains. But what could feel more of a living thing than a home?

You hear Gojo click his seatbelt off beside you and you glance over at him. You click off your own seat belt and open your door, stepping out onto the gravel road.

Gojo comes around the car and approaches you, holding a folder in his hand with papers you can only assume have information on the property listing. You also hear the jingle of keys in his pocket as he pushes his hand into it. 

“Got about,” he glances at his watch, “twenty minutes to prep. Oh, and if my clients ask, I’ll just introduce you as my assistant. And we’ll pretend that we have some sort of inappropriate workplace relationship. Just to intrigue them. It’ll make the house more memorable. Sound like a plan?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever gets food on your table.”

You watch as he pushes a copper key into the rusted lock that was clipped onto the chains holding the fence together, guarding the property. He yanks it down once he’s unlocked it and then pulls the fence apart, opening the way to head up the house. It borders on a feeling of trespassing, but you trail closely behind Gojo as he makes his way up the grassy hill, reminding yourself that he has the clearance as a realtor.

You glance around the property a bit more. There’s a small pond in the dip of one of the smaller hills, fuzzy with moss and some small fish you can see snapping at the surface of the water. Off to the right of it, there are similarly moss covered stone benches, small and antique. Perfect to sit there and watch the sun set behind the house. And towards the left, a small gondola with arranged stained glass stepping stones. 

“Charming, huh?” Gojo says over his shoulder at you, and you realize he’s caught you staring at everything in awe.

Gojo makes it to the veranda after lengthy strides across the broad concrete steps that lead to the most stunning hardwood door you’ve ever seen in your life. He turns around to glance at you when he realizes you’re still stuck at the bottom of the steps, digging your heels into the ground underneath you.

“It’s–” you start, looking across the landscape while melancholy washes over you, “...I just can’t believe that someone gets to live here someday.”

He pushes his hands inside of his pant pockets, silent for a few moments. “Is everything alright?”

You look up at him, the question threatening to make the rawness in your throat burn even more. “Yes, I just–” you scoff at yourself a little before turning back to face the little pond, now further in the distance, “I just realized that I’ll probably never be able to afford a house in my life, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to have a realtor show me around a home I could potentially one day call my own. It’s something that sounds so surreal to me.”

There’s a silence that lasts for three seconds, and when you look up at him, his gaze is soft.

“Alright,” he says, jerking his head towards the direction of the door with his hands still lax in his pockets, “let’s take you on a tour of this one, then.”

You blink up at him, heart beating a little faster. “O-...Okay.” And you hop up the stairs to meet him at the top. The fragrance of wild roses and lavender brush past your senses as the leaves sway with the breeze. 

The moment you enter inside, you’re greeted by a faint trace of vanilla lingering in the air. The foyer is warm, inviting, with soft oak floors that creak ever so slightly with each step you two take forward into it, proving the life that it’s lived. To your left, there’s a spacious living room that glows with the golden light of the early evening sun that has started to gently make its descent from high up in the sky. Filtering through sheer curtains, touching your skin from afar, you glance down at your arm and the glow of heaven that’s been imprinted on it. 

Gojo walks further into the living room, pulling the curtains back a bit and then opens one of the windows by pushing up on it. A small draft reaches you as you walk towards him. Off to the right in a corner is a fireplace, the mantle adorned with wilting candles and creased old books.

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

He nods his head. “Can easily convert it to gas if that’s something you’d like better.”

There’s a sense of joy in your chest at the way he continues to play along, pretending as if your opinion truly matters–as if, just for now, you were a serious contender to make this place your home. 

“No,” you say, tracing a finger over the dark wood of the mantle, collecting withered dust. “I like it better like this.”

As he leads you into the kitchen, set your eyes on the marble countertops that meet soft sage cabinetry, the window behind the sink overlooking the rolling landscape of the backyard. You stand on your tiptoes to get a better view of what’s down the hill, and you see a small trickling creek that flows down the valley. Your gaze diverts towards the countertops and you see an elegant collection of mismatched china.

Spinning on your heel, you find Gojo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you inspect every inch. “When were these appliances last updated?” you ask, running your hand across the oven handle.

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

He smiles at you. “So the tolerance for vintage charm ends with kitchen appliances?”

“Charm is cute,” you say, a little cheekily as you move on without him towards the staircase, “but not when the house burns down because of an oven gas leak.”

He hums from behind you as he follows you, and you can hear the smile on his face through the sound alone. “You’re looking out for the right things.”

The staircase, with its dark wood railing and white balusters, curves gently upwards into the second floor. Just like your own home, the third and first steps creak beneath your feet. You always loved the sound, although you know most people attempt to fix such things in a house. For you, it felt like each step had a story, and some were very vocal about never being forgotten. 

The upstairs hallway is lined with more windows, filling the space with the same golden glow that now dances across the soft, tapering wallpaper that has begun to peel around the edges slightly. Your feet wander on their own with a sense of grace that seems to have taken hold of you. 

The first bedroom you stumble across is small, but still enchanting. The bay window has a small reading nook with cushions piled up on the surface, inviting the image of lazy afternoons spent lost in books as the world beyond the glass panes flutters in the wind. The queen-sized bed in the center of the room is minimally dressed and faces an oak dresser that was leaning slightly away from the wall in a crooked fashion. 

The room across from the first bedroom appears to be a study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are bolted to the walls and a vintage writing desk sits by another window where the changing light of day turns the room into a living painting. Your mother crosses your mind. And how much she would’ve loved this window. You could picture her setting up her easel and canvas here, painting away with strokes that could threaten even the beauty of the view outside the window. You think about how much joy that would’ve brought to her. 

In that same trance, you walk down the hall to the end with Gojo following behind you. You push through the set of double doors that lead into the master bedroom. It was spacious, yet intimate, with vaulted ceilings and a four-poster bed draped in airy linen curtains. Sitting across from it is another fireplace surrounded by two picturesque little chairs. One with a square backrest colored a dark burgundy, and the other with an oval backrest colored a pinkish opal. Between the two was a small table that had a stack of a few books. 

The attached en-suite bathroom appears timeless, with a clawfoot tub resting beneath a wide, arched window that offers the view of the rolling hills in their entire glory. The marble vanity has vintage brass fixtures that reflect the soft glow of the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, one that takes the shape of the roof of the house. 

You hear tapping on the window to your right, and when you glance over there, you see a tree branch bothering the surface due to the wind. 

Your eyes also catch the faint bordering corner of wood beyond the frame of the window.

With wide eyes, you turn to Gojo and point in that general direction. “Is that…?”

“The balcony,” he says, then nods, “it’s connected to this room.”

He leads you out onto the wooden platform, the floorboards warm under your feet from the early evening sun. It stretches out about ten feet and wraps around the entire back end of the house, with easily the most breathtaking vantage point you’ve seen thus far. An entire view of the creek that disappears into the valley, the image of dancing wildflowers on distant rolling hills, the sun that continues to glow in the distance, and a gentle breeze with the faintest hint of salt, as though from a distant ocean. It felt like its own quiet little world. A place where time slows, and you can just be as you are. It was difficult to put into words, but you had never felt more at peace in your entire life.

Gojo leans over the sturdy yet worn railing as he glances down at the grass near the foundation of the house. You come up beside him, loosely curling your hands into a grip around the rusted metal.

You see him turn his face to you in your periphery, but you continue to stay staring ahead.

“So…what do you think? Can you picture yourself living here?” he asks you as a soft brush of breeze passes by. 

“Well–” you start, but then a sobering thought flashes through you, “wait, Satoru, what happened to your clients?”

“Oh, yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket to glance at it, “they texted me about ten minutes ago that they weren’t going to make it.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve left.”

“Well, you seemed like you were in some sort of trance while you were looking around. I was scared to interrupt it.”

You breathe in deep and then let out a slow sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly. “Mhm. The house is beautiful. And, yes, I could picture myself living here.” 

More than just that. It was like a dream house. The one that a person would see in fleeting memories right before they pass, as it holds all of their most beloved ones. That ethereal, it was. 

He hums softly. You look over at him and find him blinking slowly. The wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it up gently, to where you could see the blueness in his eyes a little more clearly. That, too, was ethereal. 

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He continues to stare at the horizon. “Sure.”

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

But the answer surprises you. “R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

He laughs. You feel the rumble of it from the way your shoulder was pressed up against his arm. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him. But the question was not one that you had thought to say. Rather, it felt as though it was placed on your tongue by someone else.

You feel his shoulders rise slightly with the deep breath he draws in as he leans over the railing a bit more. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I still own a place there in downtown Manhattan,” he says, “but I don’t really plan on moving back there ever. So I was thinking of selling it and getting something out here instead.”

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

“This,” he says, pointing to the wooden panels you two were standing on, “this house.”

You blink, caught between surprise and something deeper. “This house?” you echo, your voice quiet. 

He nods, his fingers tapping lightly against the railing. “Yeah. Although, I still show it to people if they’re interested. It’s been on the market for over three years though.”

You let your gaze drift over the balcony, the way the light softens against the weathered wood, and suddenly, the house doesn’t feel the same. Like it carries more weight somehow. Like it feels more real, more alive. And maybe that’s what makes a house a home–the intent to belong in it. 

"You see that greenery over there?" he asks, his arm stretching out as he highlights an area in the distance with his hand, "aaaaall the way down there?" Now pointing at the creak.

"Mm," you squint, "uh-huh!"

"Believe it or not, those are all avocado trees."

Your eyes widen and then you look at him. "No way."

He smiles. "Yeahhh. Three-point-four acres of 'em. And they're all a part of this lot."

Your smile matches his equally as nerdy one. "Wow I bet you loooove that.

"I do," he grins, and then gratuitously sights, "all I can eat guacamole 'til the day I die."

You snort.

"Yeah, anyways, that's why no one wants to buy this house," he says, "guess how much it costs to water them per month.”

"Mm, per month?" you look up to the golden sky, "a few thousand?"

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

"What–...I beg your finest fucking PARDON?!?!"

He laughs. "Yeah that's usually the reaction I get when I end a tour of this house on that note."

“That’s so insane…what’s the point of buying the house, then?”

"Avocados are hard to grow, they can be finicky, but all the land on this lot is extremely fertile," he says, "and if you can import the produce, it actually ends up being pretty lucrative." He points across to the dip in the hill behind the creak. "You could turn that place over there into some kind of ranch, too. Or a wedding venue, and rent it out. I don't know. The property has a lot of investment value. But the house itself is a bit dated. Would need some work."

"Like a fixer-upper on HGTV,” you offer for the conversation.

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

"Bullshit. I would've known. I have seen every single episode since I graduated college."

"Oh, well, this was back when they still had Design Star on. I was like twenty-four or something. Fresh new realtor."

"Oh right. I was still in college then. I forgot that you're ancient."

He gives you an irritated side eye.

"So...will you be fixing up this house?" you ask him. His hobby of woodworking starts to make a little bit more sense.

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm too young to be thinking about retirement yet...but that's kind of what I was thinking of turning it into. A dream retirement home."

"You're definitely not young. Don't worry about that."

He gives you another irritated look.

"What happens to your other house, then?" you say. "The one next door."

“Hmm," he muses, "I'll probably stay there another year or so and then rent it out eventually."

"You don't want to settle down there? Raise your kids there?" you blurt out. You immediately wince a little at the forward question, but wasn't that something people thought about when thinking of a house? Do they not imagine filling it with their own hopes and dreams? Do they not picture their spouse sitting on the porch outside, swinging with the wind? Do they not picture their children's laughter down the hallway? 

A shiver runs down your spine. You glance over at Gojo, who continues to stare forward towards the horizon, His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he's deep in thought staring out into the landscape as the golden sun begins to turn purple in the sky, casting a dimming glow on his face.

And you wonder. You briefly wonder what a home must mean to him, after having to witness his parents perish in the flames of the one that housed his childhood. 

"It's a nice house," he finally responds to you, "but a part of me wants to live faaaaar away from everyone and everything someday." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he can already tell how contradictory you find that sentiment to be. Mr Grew Up In New York City wants to live in a quaint little cape-cod-esque agriculture farmland property miles away from major civilization? what was it about the city that changed him so much? “Just be at peace, you know. Plant a million more avocado trees out here in the middle of nowhere, and not have to worry about their devilish spawns dropping all over my cute neighbor's herb garden.”

You flutter your eyelids, the comment catching you off guard, before your entire posture softens. "Satoru...it's ok. I'll move my herb garden."

"Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about seventy-four year old Barbara to my right."

You sulk your shoulders and roll your eyes, turning away from him to face forward towards the landscape again.

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

You glance over at him again, and there's that same distant stare he casts over the greenery in the distance. 

"I can't believe your dream in life is to become a farmer," you say.

"Ehhh. It's honest work." he exhales slowly. The sun is now sitting on the hilltop. "It's just a dream, anyways. Just a dream. I'm still allowed to have those, right?" It was asked with genuine curiosity. 

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

His eyes hood ever so slightly, a dip in his expression you can't quite discern. but it's evident in the way his gaze off across the horizon dampens. "Hm. I don't know."

You shiver a little as the evening wind brushes past, and Gojo catches sight of the movement. you mentally curse yourself, because you know that you've just cut this moment short.

"It's cold," he says, "let's get inside."

You try to think of ways to stay here. Ways to lengthen this moment. Ask him for his jacket and make some teasing comment about how he's not a gentleman. Or lie and say that you're not cold at all, that you run warm when you know all your life you've always had cold hands and feet. Or just tell him that you don't want this moment to end. Tell him you want to see the sun through its sunset. Tell him how you never want to step foot off of this house ever again.

"Okay," you whisper. 

And he leads you back inside, down the stairs, and as you stand out on the veranda, at the grassy hills towards his car, you implant this memory in your head, this feeling of standing on this home and dreaming as if it were yours. Before all it becomes is exactly that, 

Only a dream. 

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch.7, ‘if u wanna get groceries’]

songs of the chapter:  groceries by mallrat  margaret by lana del rey

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol.  big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support.  i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that.  very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

much love!! there will be a delay in getting this chapter up on ao3 and also adding it to the masterlist etc bc i'll be away from keyboard when this posts from my queue, but everything should be updated by the time i'm back home tonight :) see you all in the next one <3 -ellie

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[niwaart]

FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT

[#part1 #part2 #part3]

Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》

Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…

##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##

No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....

Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....

He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...

“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…

Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure

In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Duck or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.

It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.

Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."

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[samkerrworshipper]

so win.

alexia putellas x reader

no fuel quite like my procrastination to not do other things i need to do. this is porn without plot, i’m not ashamed of it. it’s also unedited and has been worked on after a day of clinicals so if there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes i apologise. i wrote this in like 3 hours lol. i’m also a mess at the moment and actually avoiding my whole life so this is my outlet. anyways i wrote smut! for the first time in forever ;) also for the sake of this let’s ignore timezones bcus i couldn’t rewrite the start of this to make it work lol.

warnings: smut, 18+ viewer discretion advised

You’re not with Alexia when the campaign drops. You’re not even watching the game, you’ve never been quite able to wrap your head around the nfl thing or get into like your girlfriend, the rules of rugby have been so ingrained in your mind from childhood that seeing men run around in massive pads just gives you an ick.

You’re not even the person who sees it first, you’re sitting in a cafe trying to get some studying done because it’s impossible to do at home when your clingy girlfriend insists on sitting, holding, grabbing or clinging onto any part of your body when she’s bored. It’s like trying to keep a five year old entertained, and it always ends up with you sacrificing whatever coursework you have and being endlessly stressed when you fall behind. You simply leave studying for when Alexia is out of the house or when you have time to study elsewhere.

You’re heavily engrossed in rewatching a lecture you’d missed the previous week due to training when your phone lights up. It’s no exaggeration, your phone screen goes from being blank and dark to suddenly notification after notification pouring in. Different groupchats, instagram tags, text messages. There’s another ten minutes left on your study clock before you’re technically allowed to take a break but with every thing that pops up your only become more curious. Curious enough that you look down at your clock with complete disregard and reach for your phone. It’s sitting next to your laptop, it’s supposed to be upside down to minimise distraction but when you were watching the lecture it stopped you from being able to check the time and you liked to watch as the time ticked by.

You click onto you groupchat first, a mixture of Barca girls, mostly the older ones. Most importantly Mapi, who has bombarded the groupchat in a matter of seconds, with image after image of your girlfriend.

You click onto them harmlessly, Alexia has a series of campaigns that you’re aware of that are coming out in the next few months. As you’re waiting for the images to load you try and remember if she’d told you about any coming up, there was something for Cupra at the end of february and a big campaign for more than eleven in march, and a few smaller things amongst it but nothing you could think of that was due to release today, or in the next week.

When the first image loads, you’re eyes almost bug out. Your throat closes, the oxygen leaves your lungs and you feel almost dizzy. You have to blink multiple times to clarify that what you’re looking at is real, it’s not just a hallucination of some wet dream you’ve had, it’s a real photo that exists in front of you. As you flick through them, you only feel more unwell, and a little bit wet… or a lot.

The first one is just Alexia’s face, staring straight down the lense. The way she’s been captured is almost animalistic, pink sports bra, big earrings, her hair in the wet look. It’s her eyes though, pointed straight on, the eye fuck look, like she’s staring into your soul the same way she does before she’s about to rail you, except it’s all magically been captured in one photo. You want to look at it forever, you’re scared you’ve actually lost the ability to use your extremities and all the oxygen has stopped circulating inside your body from the mix of shock and awe.

With as much power you have you flick to the next photo, and if you were already feeling unwell this feeling is close to death.

Alexia, looking over her shoulder, flexing.

All of her tattoos are on show, every single muscle is accentuated and you almost drool on your phone as you study all of the different parts of the picture. Alexia’s skin is literally glowing, effervescently in a way you cannot even begin to describe. You know from thousands of hours of tracing the skin of your girlfriends back just how strong she is, yet with everything emphasised more in the photo you feel like no matter how many hours you’ve spent staring this is adding a whole new perspective. Her arms, her facial expressions, the illusion of her hair sticking to her skin, the pink contrast against her skin.

You have to scroll, because if you don’t you won’t be responsible for the actions you engage in whilst in a very public space.

The following few pictures are of other athletes, basketball players, gymnasts, runners, other football players. For the most part, americans, yet your girlfriend in all her glory is a part of it.

You get through quite a few photos before it comes to the video, you were already gobsmacked, but the video seals it for you.

Alexia looks flawless, absolutely ethereal in every way. It actually feels like you are living in one of your fantasies or dreams but no this is very much real life and you are actually dating the person on your screen.

There’s no chance you’re going to get any work done, you can’t even get a coherent thought that doesn’t involve Alexia. Alexia’s abs, Alexia’s back, Alexia’s eyes, Alexia’s face, Alexia. You pack up your books and laptop with one thought on your mind, seeing your girlfriend.

Mapi’s private messages to you are filthy, message after message of her reminding your of what is now out in the world and about how now even more people are going to be even more obsessed with her.

You drive home over the speed limit and slightly recklessly, it’s not a long drive from your favourite study spot to you and Alexia’s shared house, but it feels like it drags on for forever. Your knuckles are white from your tight grip on the steering wheel and your unoccupied foot is bounding furiously against your floormat. You run a couple of close yellows, which are mostly red and have a complete disregard for giving way to anybody. You have an end goal, and that goal is to get home before you combust from all of the built up energy and tension in your body from the reruns of the pictures you’d seen.

You’re not even sure if you put the car in park when you swing into the driveway, you practically sprint towards the door, leaving Alexia’s prized cupra to fend for itself. Your hand is so sweaty you struggle with the door knob for a few seconds, your brain is frantic and you struggle and jiggle with it until it finally turns and there is nothing between you and finding exactly what you’re looking for.

Alexia isn’t in the front room, not that she normally would be. You pace your way through the hallway, past your bedroom which seems unoccupied and into the living room.

Alexia.

Alexia is sitting, on your couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the shit eating grin on her face as she tries to make herself look comfortable and like she’s actually lounging on your couch. Her body is tense, it gives away her whole bravado, you don’t really care though.

“You’re home early? You said you wouldn’t be back till lunch time, no?”

There is no acknowledging of her comment, you take your jacket off and lay it on the edge of the couch before unceremoniously pouncing on your girlfriend.

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexia makes it easy enough for you to straddle her lap, opening up her legs and making plenty of room for you.

You stare into her eyes and all you can picture is the photo of her, the look on her face isn’t dissimilar to the one captured, but it’s not quite the same.

“The campaign? Did I not mention it?”

You roll your eyes before leaning down, alexia goes with ease, her mouth opening up for you as soon as your lips meet hers. It’s all teeth and tongue, not quite a fight for dominance, just pure arousal.

“You’re a brat, and really fucking sexy.”

Alexia smirks against your lips, and then she bites back, her tongue fighting against yours.

“So you like it?”

You move your lips to Alexia’s neck, licking a line down her neck and kissing up it before biting down, foregoing any kind of gentle.

“Do I like my girlfriend looking extremely fuckable on the internet? Jury’s still out on that one.”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head back to give you full access to her neck.

“Mm, muy fuckable.”

The laugh that leaves her mouth is enough fuel for you to nip her again, sucking a mark right above her collar bone, not directly visible but enough to make her sweat about keeping it hidden at training tomorrow.

“I’m going to need a private show in that outfit at some stage.”

You move back up to Alexia’s mouth, this time the make out is less frantic, you’ve gotten out some of your residual jitters.

“That can always be arranged.”

You tug at the hem of Alexia’s sleep shirt that she still hasn’t gotten out of yet.

“Bed first, fashion show after.”

In the swiftest motion possible Alexia is bringing herself up onto her feet, and lifting you with her. You wrap your legs around her torso, never breaking the makeout.

She makes it to your bedroom at a record speed, dumping you onto the mattress before climbing back on top of you, her shirt being thrown haphazardly into the air somewhere as she lowers herself down. There’s no bra to fight with and you reach for her breasts before her lips are back on you, grabbing and rolling at her nipples until she gets the message and has climbed fully onto the mattress on top of you.

Alexia stays on top of you, making out for a while, until she get’s bored with her hands and decides that you need to mirror her level of undressed. She flips you on top with so much ease that it doesn’t even surprise you, the photos on the internet showed Alexia’s muscles, but they didn’t show just how strong your girlfriend truly was.

Alexia didn’t mess around with your tank top and bra, tugging them off with the same kind of urgency that you’d been in to get back to the house earlier. As soon as the clothes are gone you’re flipped back onto the mattress, Alexia retaking her position. Her hands go straight to your tits, pinching and pulling in a way that makes your back nearly arch off the bed. You’re already aroused from your session in the coffee shop, but this is only adding fuel to the fire.

It takes everything in you not to moan immediately, you clench your jaw and bite your lip as Alexia elicits all different kinds of sensations.

‘Sé ruidoso bebita.”

As per usual, not much gets past Alexia, you try to relax just slightly, let yourself feel it all completely.

“How wet are you going to be when I finally touch your pussy, hm? How wet did my photos get you? All hot and bothered in the coffee shop like a little slut.”

There is no point in shaking your head, you just smirk, you’re proud of it, you’re proud that you get to come home to this and everyone else just has to enjoy Alexia from a far.

“Show me, reach into your panties and show me how wet you are and maybe I’ll think about touching you.”

You hesitate for a second, but then Alexia pinches on of your nipples and rolls your other breast in her hand and your hand naturally moves downwards, your hips canting up as you do so.

Your fingertips are glistening and dripping as you bring them out of your shorts, Alexia doesn’t hesitate to pull them straight into her mouth, sucking all of your arousal straight off.

“Alexia, please.”

Alexia licks her lips in a way that makes you so certain that she’s desperate for more, she’s just as turned on about this as you are.

“Pants off.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth your reaching for them hem of your pants and kicking them off, your panties go with them.

Alexia doesn’t wait, she moves her body downwards until her mouth is hovering right above you.

She looks up at you, hesitates for a second, it’s the exact same face as the photo, beautifully feral.

She doesn’t hold back whatsoever, her mouth goes straight to your clit and you’re already aroused, already dripping everywhere but you reach another level. Your moans are breathy and free falling.

“Fuck baby, feels so good.”

You’re a stuttering mess and far too aroused to try and pretend like you aren’t already close.

Alexia keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking at your clit and occasionally living long strips up from your pussy. It feels so good, earth shattering good.

“Ale, close.”

You expect her to pull back a little bit, normally she likes to prolong your pleasure just a little bit, the wait is worth the reward. But it seems like the both of you are too aroused to ignore the urgency of the situation. Alexia doubles down, her arms pushing your thighs further apart and reaching up behind you to grab at your ass whilst she enjoys having more access.

When you realise she isn’t going to let up you unclench your hands from the sheets and push them into Alexia’s hair, grabbing at the root and pushing her exactly where you want, grinding down against her chin.

It doesn’t take long at all, alread close as it was. Then Alexia grazes her teeth over your clit and doubles down and you see stars. Your body goes with you, shaking and tensing before relaxing as your enjoy the aftershocks. Alexia takes the opportunity, pushing two fingers into you and setting a brutal pace.

“Alexia, need a second.”

Alexia doesn’t stop, if anything she only goes harder, her fingers searching for your g-spot and finding it with ease. The overstimulation makes your stomach tight and yoru clit ache, in the best way.

“Una mas.”

You shake your head, even though it’s blatantly clear you’re going to give her another one, there isn’t really a world where you wouldn’t, not when Alexia makes it so easy to feel so good.

“You can give me one more bebita.”

Alexia’s palm grinds against your clit gloriously, it’s a bit too much for a few seconds but it fades as the pleasure overtakes.

Alexia’s favourite activity is amking you fall apart, watching you experience a kind of pleasure that is unmatchable, all at her own hands. Alexia adds a third finger, knowing that it’ll give you what you need.

It’s more than enough for what you need to reach a release. This time the initial orgasm lasts longer, you tense for a few seconds before you go boneless on the mattress. You melt into the sheets, your head lulling against the pillow as you breathe your way through.

Once you’ve stopped clenching against Alexia she pulls her fingers out, licking up every part of your orgasm, not leaving a single drop behind.

She crawls her way up to you, lying down on her side next to you, looking at the blissed out expression on your face.

Your eyes open lazily, a big smile on your face.

“You’re unreal, literally, how did I get this lucky?”

Alexia leans in, it would be rude to not kiss your lips at every possible chance, especially when your smiling at her like that.

“The real question is how I got this lucky.”

It the same kind of phrase that would elicit vomiting noises from your teammates in the locker room, and yet you love it all the same.

The kiss is soft, everything you need in the moment. It gives you enough confidence to reach your hands down inbetween the two of you, pressing down against Alexia’s front with one intention.

Alexia gasps into your mouth, and it’s enough guidance for you.

You walk your fingers up to the waistband of her pyjama shorts that she still hasn’t changed out of at nearly midday. You trail them down on the inside, unsurprised at her lack of underwear.

Alexia’s wet, the cotton of her shorts sticking to the insides of her thighs.

You part her folds, enjoying the way she moans and gasps into your mouth as you map your way through a different part of her body.

When your fingers find her clit, it’s easy to tell just how turned on she is.

You set a pace of fast tight circles, you’re well educated on Alexia’s body and when she’s this worked up this is the best way to get her to an orgasm.

You know she’s getting closer when her kisses get sloppier and desperate, her lips hang onto yours like they’re becoming an extension of her, like she’s scared that if you separate it’ll take part of her with her.

She shakes and grinds into you, searching for that last bit of stimulation she needs. When she infds it she groans into your mouth, her hips jerking one final time before they go weak, her body goes still for a few seconds. You slow down but don’t come to a full stop, pulling every last bit of her orgasm out for her until she’s tugging your hand out of her shorts.

Alexia presses some soft kisses to your lips before pulling you into her with one arm.

“If that’s what I get every time I take some nice pictures, maybe I should do it a bit more. See if I can get a job with Victoria’s secret or a swimsuit company.”

Alexia doesn’t need to see the look on your face to know exactly how all of your features would clenhc up and your eyes would roll.

“If you do that there will be a whole lot less sex for you and a whole lot more sessions with my vibrator for me. You’re cute, but I’d like to keep some of it for me.”

Alexia snorts, before tugging you in tighter.

“The fans would like it so much though, maybe I should just post some of the photos from the beach over the summer in Ibiza, the topless ones were cute.”

You elbow Alexia straight in the gut.

“How about you model the nike outfits for me first, and then we can decide how far you can take your new found modelling career.”

You’re still in slight disbelief that Alexia managed to keep something this big from you. She was obviously always having ongoing things going with nike, but something this big, and this special was hard to keep underwraps.

“I looked that good, huh?”

You roll even further into Alexia, pressing your whole body into hers.

“Muy bueno. New additions to the wank bank right there.”

You snort when you look over your shoulder and see the confusion on Alexia’s face, her english is good, but her english slang lacks in certain departments.

“Wank bank?”

You snort again, the innocence behind her voice makes it so much better.

“Just my folder for when I’m very alone on camp, and need some extra assistance.”

Alexia’s brain clicks, she laughs, and then the meaning must click in because she blushes beet red.

You stand up, already searching for your forgotten articles of clothing.

“Wait a minute, wank bank? What else is in this folder?”

You’re already tugging your pants on and trying to find your tank top which had apparently vanished into thin air.

“Hopefully whatever new photos I can find in the album of spares that was left over from this shoot.”

Before you can hear what else Alexia says you’re racing off in search of her laptop.

“Wait, I need to see this folder. Bebita, I need my own folder. WHAT IS IN THIS FOLDER.”

—————-

anyways have a wonderful day/night! i love you! somebody out there loves you! you are blessed to have this day and every other one to come <3

[hees-mine]

Always - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cursing, angst.

Genre: brothers best friend.

WC: 4k+

Posting this here because i want to get it out of my drafts since it’s been there forever it’s old so it’s not good but oh well lowkey want to make another story with this trope though 👀 a better one

-

“Sure you don’t want to come with?” Your brother Jake cracks open your bedroom door, checking with you one last time.

“I’m sure I’m not feeling well today, so I think I’ll just stay home,” you told him a little white lie, pulling your blankets up to your chest.

“Alright I’ll be back in an hour or so do you need anything?” He asks like the caring brother he is.

“Sleep,” you reply with a chuckle.

“Alright,” he laughs softly and turns off the light in your room.

As soon as you heard the door close from downstairs, you texted heeseung, your brother’s best friend and the guy you’ve been hooking up with for the past couple of months.

Ever since Jake introduced you to heeseung, there was definitely undeniable tension between the two of you, but you both ignored it cause he didn’t want to break the bro code, and you didn’t want to disappoint your brother, so both of you kept your hands to yourselves.

That seemed to be working until you both entered college together, and to celebrate everyone’s success of getting into college, one of your mutuals threw a house party you had to attend cause you were one of the people being celebrated, and obviously, so was heeseung.

That night, neither of you could keep your eyes off the other. It started out with flirty glances and winks from across the room; then, after a few shots, it progressed into you both dancing together, him behind you, holding your waist while you sway your hips to the beat, feeling the unmistakable hardness in his jeans.

The alcohol in your system and the way his hot breath fanned across your face whenever he complimented your figure had you melting into him, and what made you give in completely was the subtle but very effective rolls of his hips, his hard-on brushing against your ass had you pulsing and dripping with need, and evidently, he was just as needy cause the words finally rolled off his tongue. “Let’s go upstairs.” With one last glance around the party, your brother was nowhere in sight, and you both snuck off to a vacant bedroom where he gave you the best night of your life.

He fucked you so good after years of being pent up he released all of his want for you in one night, giving you round after round till you both were numb and shaking with unspeakable pleasure.

That night led you both to hooking up behind your brother’s back you both felt guilty that’s for sure but now that you had a taste of each other there was no way you’d be stopping anytime soon.

Which is why your fingers are excitedly moving across your keypad to set up another hookup.

“My brother just went to the mall. Do you want to come over?”

“Finally, I’ll be over in ten. Be ready when I arrive ;)”

You smile at his text and pull the blankets back, going downstairs to unlock the door for his arrival. You quickly go back upstairs, slipping off every article of clothing before getting back onto the bed and waiting for heeseung.

He seems to arrive earlier than ten minutes he may or may not have sped on the way there he parked a few blocks away to hide his car just in case and made his way to the door not bothering to knock cause he knew you always kept it unlocked for him and besides this was like his second home with as much time as he spent here with Jake he opened the door and headed upstairs straight to your bedroom.

He knocked gently his eyebrows raising with amusement cause the door was already cracked all he had to do was push it open and there you were sitting there looking all pretty underneath the covers. “Hey” he says quietly and steps inside shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” you reply flirtatiously and peel back the covers, showing off your body.

He bites his bottom lip and tosses his jacket to the side of the room, easily slipping off his shoes, which he didn’t even bother to untie.

You watch him undress, your body already heating up with anticipation.

His shirt comes off next, and he walks to the edge of the bed and climbs on top, crawling over to you until he’s hovering over your naked body. “Always look so fucking pretty for me” he kissed your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around his neck spreading your legs so he could get in between them.

“I try” You chuckle softly, and he captures your lips in a kiss slotting himself between your legs and pressing his semi-hard cock right against your pussy, causing you to moan of course, he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring every last inch of you.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you bring him as close to you as possible, kissing him with just as much desire as he does with you.

When it becomes difficult to breathe, he pulls away the string of saliva between the two of you, getting lost as he starts to kiss down your neck. “Hmm, hee,” his hands trail down your sides, softly tickling your flesh before gripping your waist tightly and rutting himself against your naked pussy your wetness surely staining his sweats.

He nips at the skin of your neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as you buck your hips up into him. “Fuck baby, I can’t wait anymore” he pulls back, staring into your eyes, his eyes full of lust.

“That’s good cause we only have an hour,” you chuckle, running your hands down his chest til you reach the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down along with his underwear till his cock falls out he, ’s rock-hard precum leaking at the tip of his shaft twitching as he catches the way you stare at his length between your legs.

Once you pull his clothing down his thighs, he takes the reins, slipping the two articles down to his ankles, too impatient to get fully undressed. “Turn over. Wanna fuck that pretty little pussy from behind.”

Not one ounce of shame runs through your veins as you turn over on your stomach at record speed, presenting your holes to him.

“That’s it” he bites his lip spanking your ass, and watching it jiggle, he places both of his palms on your ass, kneading softly as he slots his length between your round ass cheeks. “Shit,” he whispers to himself, loving the way his precum stains your beautiful skin. “Ass up for me” You arch your back, burying your face into your pillows as you feel his tip prodding at your pussy lips. “Look at that pussy so wet for me” he slips his first finger in you, groaning at the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around his finger. He added another alongside his index one, and your walls welcomed him with ease. Your sticky wetness aids the process of stretching you out. “Fuck you’re taking my fingers so well could probably just slip my cock in you right now.”

“Yes please I can take it” you laid your cheek on the pillow heart pounding with anticipation as your breath quickens.

“Yeah? Want me to put it in you?” he curled his fingers inside you, causing your walls to clench yet again.

“Fuck yes, please stick it inside me, hee” Your breath gets sucked out of you the moment you feel his bulbous tip enter you.

You’ve been wanting this for the past few weeks and finally you were able to get what you’ve been craving for.

He lets out a sharp breath sinking his hard cock all the way inside you till he bottoms out. “So tight and warm,” he moans softly, his head rolling back as he holds your waist, adjusting to the wet sensation encasing his cock.

Your mouth parts in a gasp, legs going numb as you feel him stretch you out so good.

You grip the sheets, your walls clenching and unclenching around his thick pulsing cock.

He withdrew himself, pulling out until nothing but the tip was left inside and then thrusting forward, filling you up to the brim. “God damn, you always feel so fucking good,” he grunts, creating a steady rhythm sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

“Fuck” you breathe out, eyes tightly closing shut as you focus on the pleasure of his thick length rubbing against your walls so deliciously.

“Yeah? Feel good, baby?” He grabs hold of your shoulders for leverage, stroking your walls perfectly. “Taking it so deep for me,” he smirks, watching the way your pussy lips welcome his cock so warmly. “You like it deep, huh?” His eyes are lidded as he witnesses the sight of your juices, creating a creamy white ring of arousal around his base.

“Yes, love feeling your cock d-deep inside m-me fuck heeseung,” you whimper, unable to contain the way your walls squeeze around him.

“Fuck you’re so tight I’m not gonna last long,” he huffs, speeding up the movement of his hips. It felt too good to slow down the sound of his skin slapping against yours, making him even more feral. “Fuck fuck fuck” he lowers his hands to your waist, holding you still, but the force of his thrusts has you sliding up the bed, his cock head kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“Yes, please don’t stop right there,” you whine, toes curling as you gush around his cock, creating the wettest sounds you ever heard.

“Hear that baby? Your little pussy is talking to me. You must really be enjoying my dick, huh?” He asks, knowing full well you love how he fucks every single time.

“Hmm, yes,” you whine, feeling your high approaching.

“You close? I can feel you clenching on my dick so hard” he lets out a laugh, fingertips pressing into your sides, his balls loudly smacking your ass as his thrusts turn erratic.

“So close,” you mewl.

“M-me too gonna fill this pussy up make it even more creamy baby,” he grunts, thrusting like an animal in heat. Both of you are so close the familiar warm tingling sensation spreads throughout both your bodies.

You could feel it just a second away, but the sound of his phone ringing made you lose focus.

“Fuck” he grunts in frustration. His hand leaves your waist messily, reaching for his phone so he can shut it off and focus back on what’s really important, except when he reads the caller ID, his heart races. “Shit, it’s your brother,” he sighs, slowing the pace of his hips but still fucking his cock deep into you.

“Just ignore it,” you complain, wiggling your ass against him, trying to get him to speed up again.

“I can’t just keep quiet yeah” he takes a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to come over I was just at GameStop, and I bought a few new games” heeseung presses your lower back down, arching you further so he can reach even deeper, and you use every last ounce of strength not to moan out loud from the feeling of his thick cock reaching the depths of your pussy.

“S-sure, what time are you fuck-“ he hisses as another gush of wetness releases around his cock. “What time are you thinking?” He swallows thickly, his breathing becoming heavier with each stroke. He’s too close right now. As soon as the call ends, he’s gonna release his load deep inside your sweet juicy pussy and give you what you deserve.

“I’m on my way home in about fifteen. I’ll probably take a shower too, so in about half an hour,” heeseung tries his best to focus on what his best friend is saying, but it’s hard when your pussy squeezes his cock so tight.

“S-sounds good. I’ll come over in about 45 minutes,” he groans softly, but it could still be picked up over the line.

“You okay? You sound weird,” Jake says on the other line.

Heeseung panic’s initially but then comes up with the most feasible answer he can think of. “I’m good just out of energy getting in a really really good workout” he bites his lip to hold in a moan.

“Alright, well, enjoy your workout. See you tonight,”

“See you tonight” heeseung hits the end call button at lightning speed, and as soon as his phone hits the mattress, he’s gripping your hip and fucking into you like a wild beast, his thick cock fucking your walls to no end. You’re screaming mess nonstop, moans and cries of his name spilling from your pretty lips. “Fuck yeah, baby, scream my fucking name”

“Heeseung!” You cry even louder as he snakes his hand under your waist and starts rubbing your clit. “Oh fuck I’m coming. I’m coming, heeseung!” You shriek, your eyes rolling back as you shake violently on the bed, your pussy pulsating around him.

“Yeah, let go for me, cum all over this dick,” he hums. “Gonna pump you full of my cum, baby. Want that?”

“Yes,” you whimper breathlessly.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna give it to you” After one last thrust, he’s emptying his huge load in your hole. “Shit baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming” he grunts, hips wildly bucking into you, riding out his high, drilling into your heat, and filling you up to the brim with his cum. “Shit baby,” he throws his head back, panting heavily.

“Hmm,” you moan in satisfaction, his hands running all over your body, helping you come back down from the earth-shattering orgasm. You sink into the mattress, and he lays on top of you, panting as he leaves stray kisses all over your cheek, lips, and shoulders.

You both lay like that for a while, regaining your strength and being able to move again.

Everything is silent save for the short breaths you both let out. “Shit baby, I want you again already,” he chuckles against your ear biting your lobe softly as he rolls his hips sensually, pushing his cum deeper in you.

“Hee,” you whine at the feeling of his cock inside you. “I wish we could, but my brothers gonna be home soon,” you whisper.

“Fuck I wish he would leave more often. Going weeks without feeling your pussy is torture,” he laughs and rests his cheek on yours, relishing in the aftermath before he gets ready to leave.

Just before he begins to part from your body, you both hear the front door shut. “Shit,” heeseung slowly pulls out of your hole, both of you hissing at the loss of contact as all his cum streams from your hole.

You popped up out of bed, searching for his clothes so he could get dressed and leave a thick trail of white dripping down your thighs. “I thought he said half an hour!” You whisper yelled

“Me too,” he says, hopping on one foot to put his shoes back on.

“You have to go now,” you tell him urgently and open your window.

“Really?!” He whispers, knowing the window isn’t exactly close to the ground.

“Yes, now hurry.” he walks past you and doesn’t miss the mess he made between your legs. “Fuck” he shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t believe he had to leave you like that. If he had it his way, he’d fill you up all night long, but sadly, your brother and his best friend had to ruin it. “Kiss me,” he quickly whispered, and you gave him a little peck on the lips.

He goes out the window doing his best not to make a lot of noise and trying to grab anything for some type of leverage so he wouldn’t slip and fall.

After he got about half way he let go dropping to the ground softly and scurrying to his car to wait inside for another half hour and pretend like he had just arrived.

With a sigh of relief, you went to the bathroom to shower before bed.

That was close, almost too close.

-

As close of a call as that was, that still wasn’t gonna stop you from seeing heeseung again.

You were quite literally addicted to him.

But he was having other thoughts.

“Are you coming over tonight my brother is out again” this time you’d called him instead of texting.

“Nah, last time was close enough, and to be honest, I don’t think we should push our luck. Let’s just call this off.”

“Call it off?” You’re a bit surprised by that you weren’t expecting that would be his response but you understood where he was coming from.

Not to say you liked it, though.

“Yeah it’s not worth it anymore id like to live and if your brother catches me balls deep inside his sister I doubt he’d let me live” he chuckles but you don’t really find it to be that funny especially how he said it wasn’t worth it anymore.

“Well… okay I guess I’ll see you next time you and my brother hangout” you mumble a bit disappointed but you understood it was risky and you can’t really blame him for calling it quits.

“You will, dollface. It was fun while it lasted,” you smile faintly.

“Yeah…. Bye,” he ended the call first, and you tossed your phone to the side, sighing. Who were you going to get sex from now?

That question would be answered within just a few hours. Apparently, not just heeseung was hanging out with Jake today, but his friend Jay as well. You knew him well. He hadn’t been around much lately, but you did have a good relationship with him.

And now that you think about it, he was attractive, nice, and a good friend.

You’re sure he’s probably good in bed, too.

“Hi, Jay!” You cheered as he entered, already putting your plan in motion.

“Hey y/n! It’s been a while.” he walks over to you, ready to give you a side hug, but you pull him in a full hug, pressing yourself against his body. “Did you miss me or something?” he laughs awkwardly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you just as warmly.

“Yeah plus I didn’t know you’d be coming over” you pull away from the hug hands still resting on his shoulders.

“Yeah, it was heeseung’s idea.” you both looked at heeseung, and he was just standing there already, staring at the two of you and your hands on Jay's shoulders.

“Good idea, heeseung. It’s nice seeing you after so long, Jay,” you smile, taking a seat.

“You too, y/n.” he offers you a warm smile, greeting everyone else as he takes off his jacket and shoes.

“Well, we were gonna play games, but since y/n seems excited to hang out with us, how about a movie instead so she can join us?” Jake suggested that since you weren’t into video games that much,

“Sounds good to me,” Jay agrees.

“No, id rath-“Heeseung got shut down immediately by Jake.

“Three against one, you lose; besides, we game all the time anyways,” Jake concluded and sat on the couch searching for a movie.

Once the movie was picked, you all went to the kitchen to prepare snacks and drinks for the movie night once you got all settled in, you took a seat on the couch when heeseung saw where you were sitting, he moved over to you, but since the conversation you both had last time you didn’t want to sit next to him you couldn’t be that close to him not when you were literally thirsting for him how could someone look so good in a baggy shirt and pants you had no idea, but your panties definitely did as they were already damp just feeling him so close was doing things to you.

The fact you couldn’t act on those things was torture.

So you got up and sat next to Jay, who was on the bigger couch, leaving heeseung to sit all alone. He watched you sitting next to Jay, laughing together at some scene in the movie that he couldn’t even pay attention to cause he was too upset seeing you both that close together.

Since when did you have so much fun with Jay?

Heeseung was unknowingly sulking each time you laughed or pushed Jay on the shoulder even the way you both ate out of the same bowl made him feel weird.

He folded his arms across his chest, jaw tightly clenched. After he saw you both feeding popcorn to each other, he had to stop watching you two before he lost it. “You got any alcohol?” He asked Jake cause he’d definitely need something to numb whatever dumb aching feeling that was in his chest.

“Top cabinet.” he nodded and stood up.

“The popcorn needs a refill,” you announced and went to the kitchen a few moments after heeseung.

“Woah, slow down,” you said and giggled when you saw him downing a bottle of liquor.

“I should say the same to you.” he chuckled and threw his head back, taking another shot.

“Come again? I’m not the one drowning in booze,” you laugh, opening another bag of popcorn.

“Yeah, 'cause you wanna drown in something else,” he mumbles to himself.

“What?”

“You heard me. I saw you all over, Jay. Wouldn’t it be better to fuck someone that isn’t friends with your brother?” He laughs while shaking his head.

“Ehh, I was with you, and it didn’t bother me,” you shrug. “Besides, I need to get it from somewhere,” you add in a joking manner, but he doesn’t take it that way.

“Not surprised”

“Excuse me?!” You say, feeling slightly offended you had no idea where this was coming from.

“Don’t act shocked. How the fuck do think that’s supposed to make me feel? When you’re all fucking over him after we just- just fuck it, whatever, I don’t care.”

“Heeseung, you’re drunk,” you replied, brushing his nonsense off.

“And you’re nothing but a fucking slut that can’t go one minute without a dick stuffed inside you before you go fucking running off to someone else” he raises his voice slightly, feeling his agitation grow.

“Shush!” You whisper. “What is it to you? You said it wasn’t worth it anymore. What do you think? I’m just gonna stop having sex because we’re not doing it anymore?” You say, confused.

“Cause I didn’t want to fucking get caught. I didn’t know you’d go out searching the very next day. We broke it off,” he sighs.

“What am I supposed to do? You’re obviously not an option anymore,” you say, getting defensive.

“I don’t know, maybe try a little harder to make something work between us,” he lowers his voice, picking at the label on the liquor bottle.

“Something like what? this was just casual sex”

“Casual?” He laughs softly.

“Yes, that’s what we agreed on,” you remind him.

“So all this time we’ve been screwing, you still just feel it's casual?”

“Yes, and so do you, 'cause you even said I wasn’t worth it,” you replied.

“Well, I fucking take it back, okay, I like you. It was never casual for me, and it’s only been a few days, but I fucking miss you already, and to see how quickly you moved on makes me upset, especially cause it’s right in front of me.”

“So why did you say it?” You ask.

“Cause I didn’t want to get hurt. I knew we couldn’t be public, and I thought maybe just ending things would lighten the blow, but it made it worse cause to see you all over Jay made me feel like shit hence why,” he holds up the bottle of liquor.

“Hee, I feel the same way, too, but when you said it wasn’t worth it anymore, I didn’t think you really cared about us that much, and Jay, I don’t even know. I think I was just trying to take my mind off of you, but I want you and you only.”

“Yeah?” He stands up walking over to you and resting his hands on your hips. “You really mean that?” He cups your cheeks his left hand caressing your face gently.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” you breathe out, getting lost in his eyes.

“Me too, but I understand, sweetheart. It was complicated, and I’m sorry for what I said earlier and for raising my voice and for cursing,” he rambles, and you laugh softly, wrapping your arms around him.

“I know I forgive you, hee.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

“Thank you, baby,” he smiles, pulling you into his arms. “I know it’s still complicated, but I’m gonna try my best to navigate through this with you. I don’t know what telling Jake will mean for us, but I think we should.”

“I’m scared,” you mumbled into his chest, fearing the disappointment your brother might feel if he found out about you and heeseung.

“Me too,” he chuckled. “But I know no matter the outcome, I want to be with you always.”

Leaning back, you looked up at him. “You mean that?”

“I do.” he smiles down at you, kissing your forehead and swaying you in his arms.

Only time would tell what the outcome would be of telling your brother you’ve been seeing his best friend, but you found comfort in knowing that heeseung would be there for you always.

-

Link to all my other works

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ NOBODY KNOWS

❛ 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. ❜

timeline: 2020

synopsis: After a year of stolen glances and secret meetings, one reckless moment in the practice room turns Jeonghan and Luna’s hidden relationship into the group’s loudest revelation.

warnings: this is a short but sweet one!!, cursing, fluff, short fic, sneaking around, established relationship, some slightly suggestive moments, pda, they are whipped for each other, somewhat chaotic and comedic, LOTS of screaming (mainly from BSS)

this is long overdue and i am sorry it took a while, i completely forgot this existed after being buried in my drafts 🫠 anyways, hope you guys enjoy and happy reading!!

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Sneaking around was fun.

Jeonghan never thought it would be this fun, but sneaking around with Luna?

It was exhilarating.

There was something about stolen moments, the quiet thrill of being together without anyone knowing. It wasn’t that they wanted to keep secrets from their friends, but the world they had built for themselves, just the two of them, was intoxicating.

Every glance, every brush of the hand when no one was looking, held more weight, more intimacy. They shared something that no one else could see, and the act of hiding it made everything so much sweeter.

It was a game, really— one they never planned to play but found themselves drawn into. The way they would lock eyes across a crowded room, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Or how Jeonghan would casually sit beside her during rehearsals, his fingers lightly grazing her leg under the table, completely unnoticed by everyone else.

The secret made the connection between them even more intense, amplifying the quiet, unspoken moments they shared.

Ever since that one night…

It all started one passionate night— a night that neither of them would ever forget. They had been close for so long, their bond deepening naturally with time. But that night changed everything.

The tension that had been simmering for months finally broke, and they found themselves in tangled each other’s arms, both of them giving in to what they had been feeling for so long. It was like a dam had burst, and from that moment on, there was no going back.

After that night, they were inseparable.

There was a new intensity to the way they existed around each other, a magnetic pull that neither of them could resist.

If they were in the same room, they gravitated toward each other, always finding some way to be close— whether it was sitting next to each other during team dinners, or slipping away for a quick moment together during breaks.

The honeymoon phase was real, and they were living it.

Every moment they could steal for themselves was golden. Jeonghan would find ways to be alone with her, whether it was a late-night talk after a long day of practice or sneaking out to the rooftop to enjoy the quiet, starry night together. They would talk for hours about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes, it didn’t even matter what they said; it was just about being together.

Jeonghan often found himself watching her, completely mesmerized by the smallest things she did. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed.

And Luna, too, couldn’t help but get lost in the softness of his gaze, the way he would quietly take her hand under the table or brush a stray hair from her face when he thought no one was looking. They were locked in their own world, so attuned to each other that the rest of the world faded into the background.

Their whole relationship was a secret by accident.

They hadn’t planned on keeping it a secret. It wasn’t like they had some grand scheme to hide their relationship from the rest of the group. But life had a way of getting in the way.

There were practices, recordings, filming schedules, performances— everything piling up one after the other. Their lives were so hectic that there never seemed to be a perfect moment to tell the other members— not that they realized anything was going on… Luna and Jeonghan were just being the exact same according to them.

At first, couple thought they would sit everyone down, have a proper conversation, maybe even laugh about it afterward. But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the perfect moment never came.

The idea of revealing their relationship over a rushed text message felt wrong. This was something significant, something that deserved more than just a casual mention in passing.

It wasn’t about not trusting the other members; they knew that their friends would be nothing but supportive. It was about finding the right time— when they could explain things fully, face to face. When they could show just how serious they were about each other.

But the right time never came.

The longer they waited, the busier they became.

And so they didn’t tell.

They just… let it be.

Every time Jeonghan or Luna would think about bringing it up, something would happen. A sudden practice session, an emergency meeting. And with each passing day, it just became easier to keep it to themselves.

It wasn’t that they were trying to deceive anyone. It was just that life was moving too fast, and their relationship— this precious thing they had created— felt too sacred to rush an announcement.

However, there was something thrilling about it.

Over time, sneaking around became a part of their routine. The thrill of catching glances, of brushing hands in secret, of exchanging knowing smiles when no one else was looking— it was like living in their own secret movie.

They would send quick, playful texts when the others weren’t paying attention, or find ways to meet in secluded spots during their schedules. They had their little hideouts— places in the company building or backstage at events where no one would think to look for them. There, they could steal a kiss or two, holding each other tightly in moments where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them.

Jeonghan loved the moments when they’d sneak away after hours, meeting in quiet corners where they wouldn’t be found. Like that time they slipped out after a late recording session and sat on the rooftop, huddled together under the stars, away from the noise of the world.

They had laughed quietly as they whispered about how none of the members had any idea. Or that one time backstage during a performance, when he had pulled her into an empty dressing room, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they both had to rush back on stage.

Then there were the fleeting touches— Jeonghan brushing his fingers along the back of her hand when no one was watching, Luna squeezing his knee under the table during a team meeting.

These were their secret ways of communicating when words weren’t enough. The thrill of not being caught, of knowing that this was something just between the two of them, made every touch feel electric.

There were a lot of impulsive moments where both Jeonghan and Luna threw their caution out the window.

A lot— a concerning amount.

Like that time at the recording studio…

The studio was buzzing, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out Jeonghan's thoughts.

They were supposed to be focusing on the new track, practicing harmonies with the rest of the group. But every time Luna moved beside him, her elbow brushing against his arm, his focus slipped. It was maddening, the way she was so close yet felt so far.

Jeonghan cast a sidelong glance at her, watching the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the music sheet. He could see the hint of a smile on her lips, and it drove him crazy knowing she had no idea what she was doing to him.

He leaned in, his lips just grazing the shell of her ear, voice barely audible as he murmured, "Come with me."

Luna's fingers froze mid-tap, but she didn't look at him, her eyes still on the paper. "Now?" she whispered back, pretending to stay focused on the task at hand.

She knew exactly what he wanted, but the room was filled with people— members, staff, producers.

It was reckless.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning just a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Right now."

A soft blush crept across Luna's cheeks, but she kept her voice steady. "We're supposed to be practicing." Her eyes darted toward him briefly before looking away, her resolve weakening with each passing second.

Jeonghan, though, knew her well enough by now. He saw the way her lips quirked at the corners, the slight shift in her body language that told him she was already considering it.

"We won't be long," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Just a little break."

She finally turned her head, her eyes locking with his, amusement dancing in the depths of her gaze. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he teased, his hand already gently tugging her wrist beneath the table where no one could see. The others were too engrossed in their own parts to notice. He gave her a knowing look, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. "Come on. Ten minutes."

“That’s a long fucking time for a ‘little break’.” Luna tried reasoning with him but she knew it was no use.

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Jeonghan sassed back before smirking.

Luna hesitated for a fraction of a second, casting a quick glance around the room. No one was paying attention. Her heart raced as she weighed the risk, but deep down, she knew there was no saying no to Jeonghan when he got that glint in his eye.

“Nana-ya,” Jeonghan whispered as he tugged on her arm again, more insistent this time, and she exhaled softly, surrendering.

"Fine," she muttered, but the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her excitement.

Without a word, Jeonghan stood up, casually stretching his arms as though he was just taking a break from the session.

Luna followed suit, quietly slipping behind him. They walked out of the room, their steps in perfect sync as they made their way down the narrow hallway. The further they went, the faster her pulse raced, anticipation curling in her chest.

Jeonghan glanced over his shoulder, grinning as he led her to a small, unused room at the end of the corridor.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Luna felt the immediate change in the atmosphere— the quiet, intimate space wrapping around them like a blanket.

She barely had time to react before Jeonghan was in front of her, his hands sliding up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her in. His smile was playful, teasing, but his eyes were intense. "I've been wanting to do this all day," he murmured, his voice low as he dipped his head closer to hers.

Luna's heart skipped a beat, but she shook her head, half-heartedly trying to keep some semblance of control. "We're going to get caught."

He hummed, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her cheek. "Maybe." His lips hovered just inches from hers, his breath fanning across her skin, making her stomach flutter. "But isn't that part of the fun?"

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Jeonghan closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was slow at first, a gentle press of lips that quickly deepened as he coaxed her to respond. Her hands instinctively found their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric as she melted into him, the tension in her body slipping away with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, Jeonghan rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "You always give in," he whispered, his tone light but filled with affection.

Luna huffed a soft laugh, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. "You make it impossible to resist."

He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "Good."

She playfully pushed his chest, though there was no force behind it. "We really shouldn't be doing this here."

Jeonghan leaned back, his hand sliding down her arm to lace their fingers together. "You say that every time, but here we are."

She gave him a mock glare, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her as they quirked upward. "One of these days, we're actually going to get caught."

He shrugged, unbothered, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Then I guess we'll deal with it when it happens." He tugged her a little closer, leaning down to kiss her again, this time slower, savoring the moment. When he pulled away, his eyes were soft, the teasing edge replaced with something more sincere. "I just want to be with you. Doesn't matter where."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she smiled, resting her head against his chest for a brief moment. "Yoon Jeonghan, you're impossible, you know that?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And you love me for it."

Luna sighed, pulling away just enough to look up at him, her eyes twinkling. "Yeah. I do."

They stayed there for a moment longer, the world outside that tiny room fading into the background. There was nothing but the two of them, their shared breath, their intertwined fingers. And in that quiet space, everything else ceased to matter.

That time during one of their team dinners…

The restaurant was alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the chaotic chatter of thirteen boys— fourteen, counting Luna, who sat across from Jeonghan at the long table. The night was loud, but neither of them noticed. Their attention was pulled away from the noise of their friends, entirely focused on each other.

Luna sat back in her chair, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, pretending to listen to the conversation next to her.

But beneath the table, her foot brushed against Jeonghan’s leg. It was a light touch at first, so subtle it could be mistaken for an accident. But the moment she felt him shift slightly in response, she pressed her foot against him again, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jeonghan looked up, meeting her gaze across the table, his eyes narrowing just slightly in amusement. The lively atmosphere around them melted into the background, fading into a blur of laughter and voices. His foot moved under the table, lightly nudging hers back, playing along with the silent game she’d initiated. His lips twitched as he watched her reaction.

Meanwhile, the rest of the members were oblivious, deep in their own world of boisterous conversation and drinks. Mingyu was loudest, his laughter booming across the table as he slapped Woozi’s back, nearly spilling the contents of his drink.

“Hyung, you should’ve seen it! I swear, he tripped over his own feet!” Mingyu exclaimed between laughs, his large frame shaking with each burst of laughter.

Woozi shot him a deadpan look, pushing his drink aside. “You’re exaggerating. I didn’t trip. You’re clumsy one.”

“I’m not clumsy!” Mingyu protested, but his voice was lost to the noise of the table as the others chimed in with their own comments.

“I think you are,” Hoshi teased from the other end, raising his glass, clearly drunk out of his wits. “To Mingyu, our tall and graceful giant!”

The group erupted into laughter, but Jeonghan barely heard it. His focus was entirely on Luna. Her foot grazed against his again, the touch sending a jolt of anticipation through him. She was watching him closely now, her eyes gleaming with a mix of teasing and mischief. Jeonghan, never one to back down from a challenge, pushed his foot back against hers, this time more firmly.

The corners of her mouth lifted, just enough for him to notice, and she pressed her foot against his again, slipping it between his calves, testing how far she could push before someone caught on.

He leaned back in his chair, arms casually resting on the back of the seat next to him, as if he was completely unaffected. But the truth was, his heart was pounding in his chest, excitement swirling in his stomach.

The game they were playing, right under everyone’s noses, was intoxicating.

Luna tilted her head, pretending to listen to something Seungkwan was saying next to her, but her focus remained on Jeonghan. Her foot slid up along his leg, slowly, deliberately. Jeonghan bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to smile too widely, knowing the members would notice.

Seungkwan, oblivious to the under-the-table antics, was going on about his latest variety show appearance, hands gesturing animatedly. “And then they asked me to do the aegyo thing— again. Can you believe it? I mean, I’m more than just cute, you know!”

Vernon raised a brow, taking a sip of his drink. “Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Seungkwan gasped dramatically, slapping Vernon’s arm. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Let’s be honest,” Joshua chimed in with a grin, “you do the aegyo thing too well. They’re never going to stop asking.”

The group burst into laughter again, but Jeonghan remained silent, his gaze locked on Luna’s. She was clearly enjoying herself, watching him squirm under her subtle touches. Her eyes flickered to his leg, and she pushed her foot higher, grazing the inside of his knee.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, trying to maintain his composure, but it was getting harder with each passing second. The heat between them, the secret they shared, was making it difficult to focus on anything else. He could feel her foot teasing him, slow and deliberate, as if daring him to break first.

He wasn’t going to let her win that easily.

In one swift motion, Jeonghan pushed his foot forward, trapping hers between his legs. Luna’s eyes widened in surprise, and her lips parted in a small gasp. She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing with both challenge and amusement.

Jeonghan smirked. Got you, his eyes seemed to say.

But before either of them could make another move, Jeonghan suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance Luna had put him in.

“Hyung, you alright?” It was Dokyeom, his brow furrowed as he leaned in, clearly noticing Jeonghan’s unusual silence. “You’ve been staring off into space for the last five minutes.”

Jeonghan blinked, quickly forcing a nonchalant smile. “Oh, yeah. Just… thinking.” He gave a lazy stretch, trying to shake off the tension that had built up during his and Luna’s silent exchange.

Dokyeom raised an eyebrow, unconvinced as he teased. “Thinking? You? Since when?”

Jeonghan laughed, deflecting with ease. “Since always, Dokyeomie. I have a lot of deep thoughts— plus I was listening to you guys.”

Dokyeom rolled his eyes but seemed satisfied with the response. “Yeah, sure. I’ll try to believe that.”

Jeonghan gave him a light shove.

Dokyeom laughed, oblivious to the real reason behind Jeonghan’s distraction, before turning back to the rest of the conversation. But Jeonghan’s attention had already shifted back to Luna. She was watching him, her foot still trapped between his legs, her lips quirking into a knowing smile.

As the conversation around them picked up again, Luna pressed her foot against him one more time, her silent message clear: This isn’t over.

Jeonghan bit back a laugh, but in his attempt to regain control, his knee accidentally bumped into the edge of the table with a loud thud. The plates and glasses rattled, and several heads turned in his direction.

“Hyung!” Minghao exclaimed, his eyes wide with amusement. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan waved it off, rubbing his knee with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I uh— just got a little too comfortable.”

But across the table, Luna chuckled quietly, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched him squirm under the scrutiny of their friends. Jeonghan shot her a playful glare, mouthing the words, You’ll pay for that later.

She only smiled wider, her foot giving him one last teasing nudge before retreating, her expression one of pure satisfaction.

It was risky, but that was part of the fun.

Every shared touch, every secret kiss carried a weight of excitement that was almost addicting.

They never meant to hide it.

It was never supposed to be a secret for this long. But as days turned into months, they realized they liked it— this bubble they had created for themselves, away from the chaos of their public lives.

Their relationship was something they could protect, something that was purely theirs, away from the spotlight. It wasn’t about hiding from their friends, but about keeping something precious between the two of them for a little longer.

They knew they would tell the members eventually, but for now, this was theirs.

And they weren’t quite ready to let that go.

Until they accidentally did…

Which was strange— they had been careful. Hyper-aware of their surroundings.

But it was bound to happen.

A reckless moment, a stolen kiss, a door left unlocked. That was all it took.

And it happened in the practice room.

The room was empty, dimly lit by the white glow of the ceiling lights, the faint hum of music still playing from the speakers. Hours of practice had drained them both, and now, with the studio vacant, it felt like their own little sanctuary.

Jeonghan sat against the mirrored wall, legs stretched out, his arm draped lazily over Luna’s shoulder as she sat beside him, mirroring his posture. The air between them was thick with exhaustion, but also with something softer— something indulgent.

They had been talking, murmuring quiet teases about who had fumbled more during practice, until the teasing had dwindled into comfortable silence. Then, it had happened naturally, like second nature. Luna had turned her head toward him, and Jeonghan had already been looking at her. His fingers traced along her jaw, brushing back the stray strands of hair sticking to her slightly damp skin.

And then he kissed her.

Slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke of familiarity and comfort, but also of something greedy, something that thrived in the secrecy of these hidden moments.

Luna responded just as eagerly, her fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Jeonghan sighed into her lips, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, drowning in the feeling of just them.

They were completely lost in it.

So lost that they didn’t hear the door swing open.

Didn’t hear the footsteps.

Didn’t hear the chorus of gasps and the sharp inhale of about twelve different people collectively losing their minds.

“OH MY GOD— WHAT THE HELL?!”

Luna and Jeonghan froze.

For a split second, they stayed completely still, lips barely apart, breath mingling, before reality crashed down on them like a landslide. Luna jerked back like she had been burned, heart hammering against her ribs as her wide, horrified eyes darted toward the entrance.

A sea of stunned expressions met her.

Seungkwan had a hand over his mouth, eyes stretched so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Vernon blinked once. Then twice. Then again, as if he was still processing what exactly he had just walked into. Dino, on the other hand, had taken a step back, his hands clutching his head as if he was physically trying to comprehend what he just saw.

“NO FUCKING WAY—”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“Oh, I knew it! I KNEW IT!”

“Wait, wait, hold on —what— how— WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!”

Luna felt her entire body turn hot, her face burning in complete mortification as she let out a choked squeak and immediately buried her head in Jeonghan’s lap. Heaving in embarrassment, she curled into herself, as if the earth could swallow her whole if she just made herself small enough.

But Jeonghan?

Jeonghan, that insufferable man, merely leaned back against the wall with a lazy, unfazed grin.

“Well,” he drawled, “that could’ve gone better.”

“What do you mean ‘that could’ve gone better’— ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” Seungkwan exploded, still gripping his chest like he was about to have a heart attack. “We just walked in on you two making out and THAT’S YOUR REACTION?!”

Dokyeon let out a loud cackle, slapping his knee. “This is unreal! You guys were hiding this from us?! No, no, hold on, we need answers—”

“Answers?! We need a damn timeline!” Joshua exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I— this entire time?! This entire time? I mean… I had a feeling…”

Minghao folded his arms, letting out a small huff through his nose. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“I KNEW IT!” Hoshi screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at them. “I had a feeling! You two were always acting weird! The glances! The whispers! The suspicious disappearing acts! I CALLED IT!”

“You literally never said anything,” Jun pointed out.

Hoshi spun on his heel. “IT WAS A GUT FEELING.”

Woozi, who had remained silent this entire time, simply exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, muttering under his breath, “You guys are unbelievable.”

Meanwhile, Vernon blinked again, finally processing everything. “So… are we not gonna practice anymore?”

“VERNON, PLEASE—”

Through it all, Luna refused to lift her head, her ears burning, her entire body screaming in secondhand embarrassment. “Oh my god,” she mumbled against Jeonghan’s thigh, “I’m never showing my face again.”

Jeonghan chuckled, bringing a hand up to lazily ruffle her hair. “You’re fine, baby.”

“BABY?!”

A fresh round of chaos erupted.

Seungcheol, who had been standing in the center of it all in complete silence, finally let out a long, deep sigh. “Alright, everyone, calm down—”

“CALM DOWN?! HYUNG, WE JUST WALKED IN ON JEONGHAN HYUNG AND JIYEONIE—”

“I know.” S.Coups raised his voice just enough to cut through the noise. He ran a hand down his face before dropping it to his hip. “Honestly? I had my suspicions.”

A sharp gasp came out of Hoshi’s mouth. “YOU TOO?!”

“Well, yeah,” he deadpanned as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I have eyes.”

Amidst all the screaming, the different reactions, the teasing, and the sheer chaos of the moment, there was one person standing at the back, watching it all unfold with a quiet, unreadable expression.

Mingyu.

His lips were curled in a small, wistful smile, but there was something else there, something deep in his eyes— a flicker of something sad, something resigned, something understanding.

But he didn’t say a word.

He only let out a soft breath, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and looked at the two.

Then, he smiled.

Genuinely.

And that was enough for now.

Luna was still curled up in Jeonghan’s lap, her face burning hot enough to rival the sun, as the chaos continued to erupt around them.

Her mortification knew no bounds.

The teasing, the yelling, the absolute lack of any sense of order— it was everything she feared would happen if they ever got caught. And yet, there was no judgment, no tension, just an overwhelming surge of disbelief, excitement, and too many voices screaming at once.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, was still as cool as ever, his fingers lazily running through Luna’s hair like this was just another Tuesday. He wore a smug grin, as if he wasn’t the least bit sorry they had been found out. If anything, he was enjoying this.

“You knew this would happen,” Luna mumbled against his thigh, voice muffled.

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning down to whisper, “l didn’t, Nana-ya. But it was worth it, don’t you think?”

She groaned and smacked his knee.

Meanwhile, the members had barely taken a breath before the flood of questions began.

“Alright, hyung,” Dokyeom huffed, crossing his arms. “You better start talking! How long has this been going on? When did you two start?”

“Yeah, what the hell, man?” Seungkwan gasped, still dramatically clutching his chest like he was recovering from a near-death experience. “A YEAR? A WHOLE YEAR?! WE SEE EACH OTHER EVERYDAY! HOW DID I NOT KNOW?”

“You see ALL of us everyday,” Joshua pointed out.

“THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT.”

“I just wanna know…” Dino lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Who confessed first?”

That made Luna’s entire body tense.

Finally, she lifted her head— reluctantly— peeking up at them with a shy, thoroughly flustered expression. The moment she did, every single one of them zeroed in on her like predators finding their prey.

She gulped.

“Oh. Oh, she looks guilty as hell.” Hoshi grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Jiyeonie, you confessed first, didn’t you?”

Luna sputtered, her ears burning. “I—I—”

“She did,” Jeonghan answered smoothly, flashing that infuriatingly handsome smile.

Luna’s head snapped toward him, betrayal written all over her face. “Yoon Jeonghan, I swear to God—”

“Wait, wait—” Seungcheol, who had been oddly quiet until now, suddenly blinked in realization. He turned to Mingyu. “Bro. Remember? The 2017 thing.”

Fuck was all Luna could think of at the moment.

Mingyu’s eyes flickered slightly, but his reaction was calm as he nodded. “Yeah. I remember.”

“What 2017 thing?” Dino asked, tilting his head.

Joshua exhaled, shaking his head with a knowing smile. “Ah… I see now.”

“Okay, WHAT ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT?” Seungkwan shrieked.

Dokyeom gasped. “JIYEONIE CONFESSED IN 2017, DIDN’T SHE?”

“I am going to kill someone.” Luna looked absolutely murderous.

Jeonghan, still wearing that stupid smirk, poked her cheek. “What’s wrong, baby? Embarrassed?”

The way her entire body flared at the pet name, especially with twelve pairs of eyes watching, was something the others would never let her live down.

“Hold on, I need a second—” Dokyeom leaned against Seungkwan for support, wheezing.

“Hyung, you’re cruel.” Minghao snorted, shaking his head. “You’re really throwing her into the lion’s den.”

“I just think she looks cute when she’s embarrassed,” Jeonghan said, eyes twinkling.

Luna smacked his arm. Hard.

Seungcheol finally decided to step in, rubbing his temple as he sighed despite the smirk on his face. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down—”

“OH NO, WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED,” Seungkwan interrupted, rubbing his hands together like an actual villain. “Alright, guys, be honest. Who knew? Who had a feeling?”

“Me,” Minghao deadpanned. “I had a feeling.”

“It was obvious,” Joshua added with a smirk.

Jun raised his hand lazily. “I had a gut feeling.”

Hoshi gawked. “SO EVERYONE BUT ME?!”

“Hyung, you said you knew earlier,” Dino pointed out. “I didn’t know though.”

“THAT WAS FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT.”

“Honestly,” Woozi finally spoke, looking far too amused for someone who had just been subjected to this madness, “it was kind of inevitable.”

“Oh?” Jeonghan raised a brow.

Woozi shrugged. “I mean, we all saw it coming. Even during trainee days, you two were glued to each other. It was like… written in the stars or some sappy shit.”

Luna groaned. “Not you too.”

Woozi smirked. “I just call it like I see it.”

At this point some of the members mainly BSS we’re giggling, squealing, and pointing at Jeonghan and Luna while the rest were smiling, enjoying the show.

And at this point, Luna was just accepting her fate.

She was the only girl in SEVENTEEN. That meant all of them were going to have a field day with this. And there was no escaping it.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve embarrassed her enough,” Seungcheol finally said, though the amusement was clear in his voice. “We should probably get back to practice.”

“Fine,” Hoshi groaned, disappointed.

“I love you, Cheollie.” Luna gave him a smile as he winked back at her in return.

“BUT THIS ISN’T OVER,” Seungkwan declared. “YOU TWO WILL BE INTERROGATED LATER.”

“Can’t wait,” Jeonghan said dryly.

As the members finally— finally— began gathering themselves to resume practice, Luna let out a heavy breath, rubbing her temples. Jeonghan turned to look at her, his gaze softening just slightly.

“You okay, Nana-ya?” he murmured.

She sighed, then glanced up at him. Despite everything— the absolute hell she had just been put through— she found herself smiling.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m okay, Han.”

Jeonghan smiled back.

And just like that, they knew…

Everything was going to be just fine.

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[yaniluvs]

“nerds don't date , right?” ⎯ how to lose a bet and your heart in seven days.

[ 정인 ] ✷ ‎. . things just get more interesting when you're fake-dating the hot nerd and are involved in a bet with him.

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!jeongin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , forced proximity , classmates to lovers , uni au , fake dating , skz ensemble . 64OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. suggestive , as of now . ┆ 📹 ⋮ a y.jg mini series .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ hihi >< so like, part two hehehehhehehe. this turned out to be literally double the wc from the previous one..... oh and i just crossed 8OO followers???? what???? like two posts ago i crossed 7OO, oh good lord, thank you so much!! comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

you had never seen jeongin this stressed in your uni year.

it had been barely a day since the dinner, and he was already acting like his life was spiraling out of control. not that you blamed him—you were a handful, after all. but still, the man looked like he was fighting for survival, while you?

you were thriving.

not only were you fake-dating him in front of his family, but thanks to him, you also had the perfect bet to keep things interesting.

and now? now, you were at the usual café on campus, sitting comfortably with your group—felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho—while absolutely basking in the aftermath of your deal with jeongin.

the blonde leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "so let me get this straight," he began, voice amused.

"you made a bet with the yang jeongin—topper, nerd, absolute try-hard—where you get to flirt with him for three whole months, and if he falls for you, you win?"

you grinned, stirring your latte lazily. "mhm."

ryujin raised a brow. "and if you lose?"

you waved a dismissive hand. "then he gets to ignore me forever, i guess."

yeji snorted. "as if he'd actually do that. boy’s definitely gonna lose."

minho, who had been silently observing all this time, sipped his americano before finally speaking. "you're really confident, huh?"

you flashed him a smirk. "min, have you met me? of course, i'm confident. i know he’s gonna fall for me. i learn from the best, you know."

felix grinned. "well, duh. everyone loves you."

yeji smirked. "hyunjin and jisung sure do."

ryujin laughed. "oh yeah, didn’t hyunjin say you were literally his type?"

you shrugged, fighting back a smirk. "maybe."

felix gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "oh my god. is this why jeongin is acting so feral? is he jealous?"

"no, he’s probably just pissed that i exist."

minho scoffed. "that’ll change soon enough."

"exactly," you said smugly. "so, obviously, i’m winning this bet. there’s no way i’m falling first."

your friends exchanged looks, all of them barely holding back their very obvious amusement.

"sure," yeji said, lips twitching.

"of course," ryujin agreed.

minho sipped his drink again. "i totally believe you."

felix just grinned. "this is gonna be fun."

meanwhile.

jeongin had never been this mentally exhausted in his life.

one dinner. one stupid dinner. that was all it was supposed to be.

now? now he was fake-dating y/n in front of his entire family and locked in a three-month bet that would undoubtedly ruin him.

and to make things worse? jisung, seungmin, hyunjin, aeri, and yunah were not helping.

"bro," hyunjin was saying, leaning against the café booth with a stupid grin, "you’re done for."

"over. finished." jisung added, looking way too entertained.

jeongin shot them both a glare. "i am not going to fall for her."

hyunjin raised an eyebrow. "really?"

seungmin, ever the realist, merely sighed. "jeongin, have you met y/n?"

"yes, seungmin," jeongin deadpanned. "i have. unfortunately.*"

yunah giggled, twirling her straw. "she’s really pretty, though."

aeri smirked. "and hot. and cute. and bold."

hyunjin nudged jeongin. "she literally calls you 'hot nerd.' i would’ve folded instantly." he said, dramatically putting a hand on his heart while pretending to faint.

jeongin shot him a disgusted look. "you have no standards."

jisung snorted. "and you have no chance."

"i hate all of you." (and we're back !!)

"no, you don’t," jisung said, grinning. "you hate that you know we’re right."

seungmin nodded. "statistically speaking, you're screwed."

"oh my god," jeongin muttered.

jisung clapped his hands together. "alright! place your bets! how long do we think it’ll take for jeongin to fall first?"

"two weeks," hyunjin said immediately.

"a month," aeri guessed.

yunah smirked. "three weeks, max."

"one week," jisung announced proudly.

jeongin slammed his drink down. "i hate every single one of you."

almost a week later.

you found jeongin in the library, because of course you did.

dressed in an oversized cream sweater, silver-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on his nose, black slacks, and expensive-looking loafers, he looked annoyingly good for someone who spent all his time studying.

unfortunately for him, you were here to ruin his peace.

sliding into the seat across from him, you grinned. "morning, iyennie."

jeongin didn’t even look up. "no."

you gasped dramatically. "no? that’s all i get? where’s my 'good morning, beautiful?' my 'you look stunning today, y/n'?"

jeongin exhaled sharply. "why are you here?"

you leaned forward on your elbows, smirking. "to see my lovely boyfriend, obviously."

jeongin twitched. "we are not fake-dating at uni."

you shrugged. "doesn’t mean i can’t flirt with you."

jeongin dragged a hand down his face. "i hate this bet."

"you literally proposed it, genius."

his jaw clenched. "i hate you."

you batted your lashes. "no, you don’t."

jeongin physically recoiled. "oh my god."

across the library, hyunjin and jisung sat at another table, watching the interaction with matching grins.

hyunjin nudged jisung. "one week?"

jisung smirked. "one week."

. . .

“i’ve decided that i’m going to end you.”

jeongin barely looked up from his notes. “cool. try not to be too obvious about it.”

“no, really,” you said, leaning forward across the library table, resting your chin on your hands as you stared at him. “i’m going to make your life miserable.”

jeongin finally glanced up, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses with the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen. “isn’t that what you’ve already been doing?”

you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “wow. that was hurtful, iyen.”

jeongin twitched. “stop calling me that.”

you grinned. “make me.”

his fingers curled around his pen, and for a second, you wondered if he was genuinely considering launching it at your forehead.

the library was quiet, aside from the occasional whispers of students flipping through books, the dull hum of the air conditioning, and the muffled sounds of footsteps against the carpeted floor. your table was nestled in the back corner, surrounded by towering bookshelves and dim lighting that gave the whole setting a very academic romance kind of vibe—not that jeongin would ever admit that.

and, of course, the two of you weren’t alone.

like said earlier, across from you, at another table, were felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho, watching with way too much amusement.

they can't miss good entertainment, right?

and a few tables away, jisung, hyunjin, seungmin, aeri, and yunah, were also watching with expressions that ranged from entertained to downright smug.

because, honestly? no one believed jeongin was going to win this bet.

not even jeongin himself.

"are you done?" he asked, voice clipped, flipping a page in his notes.

you smirked. "not even close."

leaning back in your chair, you crossed one leg over the other, watching him with open interest. he was dressed as he always was—annoyingly fashionable for someone who didn’t seem to care about fashion. a fitted black turtleneck, an oversized houndstooth blazer, tailored slacks, and his signature silver-rimmed glasses that rested so perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

his black hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration all morning (which, knowing you, he probably had).

"you know," you mused, tilting your head, "if you weren’t so insufferable, i’d probably have a crush on you."

his pen hovered mid-air, his lips parting slightly before he turned to glare at you. "what?"

you shrugged. "what? i’m just saying. you’re kind of my type. hot. smart. dresses well. severely grumpy. i like a challenge."

jeongin’s eye twitched. "w—"

"oh my god," hyunjin suddenly groaned from across the room, throwing his head back. "can you two just kiss already?"

jeongin immediately choked on air.

your lips twitched as you turned to hyunjin. "not yet, jinnie. i have a bet to win, remember?"

hyunjin smirked. "oh, you will win. no doubt about it."

jisung laughed. "he’s already halfway there."

"this is a library, hello?" the librarian hissed.

"but we're the only ones here, miss y-"

jeongin slammed his book shut, stood up, and turned to you with murder in his eyes. "we’re leaving."

you blinked innocently. "we are?"

"yes." he grabbed your wrist and tugged you up from your seat, ignoring the very loud, very obnoxious oooohhhhhs coming from both friend groups.

felix gasped. "look at him. so dominant."

"i didn’t know he had it in him."

"they grow up so fast."

seungmin merely shook his head, unimpressed. "he’s just running away."

jeongin glared at all of them before practically dragging you out of the library.

now playing, if you love me by colde

the late afternoon sun draped the campus in warm, honey-colored light, stretching long shadows across the pavement. the air was crisp but comfortable, carrying the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee from the campus café nearby. a few students walked past, caught up in their own conversations, but none of them paid much attention to the very mismatched pair walking down the sidepath.

jeongin was suffering.

because you were practically dragging him.

"y/n," he grumbled, his arm stiff as you held onto his wrist. "why are you like this?"

you hummed, pretending to think. "born this way, i guess?"

jeongin sighed, shaking his head. "no remorse. none at all."

"absolutely none," you confirmed cheerfully, still leading him forward.

he didn’t know where you were taking him. you probably didn’t either. but that didn’t seem to matter to you. it was just one of those things—where you decided something, and everyone else just had to go along with it.

he really should have thought this through before making that bet.

the sky was beginning to shift into soft hues of orange and almost blue when jeongin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and immediately stiffened.

his mom.

he stopped walking so abruptly that you almost crashed into him.

"whoa—" you blinked at him. "what’s wrong?"

he held up a finger. "be quiet."

you snorted. "like hell."

"y/n."

you grinned, unbothered, as he answered the call.

"hello?" jeongin said, his voice immediately shifting into something softer, more polite.

"oh, jeongin! how are you, sweetheart?"

you gasped dramatically beside him. sweetheart?

jeongin shot you a look. a warning. a plea.

you ignored it completely.

"hello, ms. yang!" you chirped before he could stop you, leaning in way too close to the phone. "how are you?"

there was a pause on the other end.

and then—

"oh, y/n, dear! how lovely to hear your voice!"

jeongin closed his eyes. no, no, no—

you beamed. "aw, you're so sweet. it's lovely to hear yours too!"

jeongin wanted to die.

his mother laughed. "such a charming girl! i hope my son is treating you well?"

you turned to him with the smuggest smile, tilting your head. "oh, he’s wonderful, ms. yang. so sweet. so attentive."

jeongin gave you a blank stare, deadpan. you? a menace.

his mother sighed happily. "ah, that's good to hear. oh! that reminds me—jeongin, darling, you haven’t forgotten about next weekend, have you?"

jeongin blinked. "uh… next weekend?"

you raised an eyebrow, watching him.

"the family gathering, jeongin!" his mom continued. "your uncle’s wedding anniversary celebration. you have to come. and of course, you must bring y/n!"

jeongin froze.

you?

you? (i'd be offended)

he turned to you so fast you almost thought his neck might snap.

you, on the other hand, were staring at him with way too much excitement in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay neutral. "oh… right. that."

you leaned in, lips parted in interest.

ms. yang laughed. "don't tell me you forgot?"

jeongin exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his temple. "i… might have."

you gasped. "baby!"

he glared.

"oh, don’t worry, dear," his mom said, brushing past his frustration entirely. "it’s going to be a lovely event! you must come with him, y/n! i won’t take no for an answer."

your grin widened.

jeongin knew that look.

it was the look of pure evil. the look of someone who had just won. (no he just read too many comics)

you placed a hand over your heart, feigning surprise. "oh my gosh, ms. yang, really? you’d want me there?"

"of course!" his mother said immediately. "you’re practically family now!"

jeongin almost choked for the umpteenth time that day.

you looked so pleased.

"well, in that case," you said sweetly, "i’d love to come. wouldn't want to disappoint a lovely lady like you, ms. yang."

ms. yang sighed, completely oblivious to his suffering. "wonderful! oh, i knew i liked this girl!"

jeongin shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. why him?

"alright, sweetheart, i won’t keep you two," his mom said. "make sure to text me later, okay?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered, still trying to process what had just happened. "bye, mom."

"have a good evening, ms. yang!" you called cheerfully.

the call ended.

silence. and then—

"you evil, evil woman," jeongin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you grinned. "aw, is my baby upset?"

"don’t call me that."

"oh, but i must," you teased, tapping his arm. "we are dating, after all."

jeongin groaned.

you rocked back on your heels. "sooo. a family event, huh?"

"shut up."

"your entire family is gonna be there?"

"y/n—"

"and your relatives?"

jeongin exhaled slowly, praying for patience. "yes."

you beamed. "god, i love this bet."

jeongin stared at you. "why are you enjoying this?"

you shrugged. "because you're not."

his eye twitched. "i hate you." (.........yeah, yk the drill)

"you love me."

"shut up."

you giggled, nudging his arm as you started walking again. "come on, hot nerd. we have so much planning to do."

jeongin sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he followed after you.

he wasn't going to lose this bet.

he wasn't.

but, why did it feel like you had already won?

—

the city was beginning to glow.

golden streetlights flickered on, one by one, casting soft halos onto the pavement. neon signs buzzed to life in the distance, painting the skyline in hues of red, blue, and green. the cool evening air carried a mix of scents—freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the faint spice of street food stalls setting up for the night, and something softer, like rain on warm pavement.

and in the middle of it all—you and jeongin.

he was still following you, albeit begrudgingly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"are you actually planning on telling me where we're going?" jeongin asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

you only grinned, walking a little ahead of him, as you turned around, still walking backwards, facing him. "nope."

he sighed. "of course not."

as the two of you had left the campus a while ago, jeongin had expected you to stop at the nearest café, maybe a convenience store. but instead, you kept walking. past the busy streets, past the familiar landmarks, past the places where most students usually hung out.

and now?

now, you were leading him through quieter roads, where the buildings weren't as tall, where the sky was starting to open up above you, where the city lights didn’t drown out the stars entirely.

it was weirdly peaceful.

not that he'd admit it.

"you're too trusting," jeongin muttered, watching as you walked ahead of him without a care in the world.

you glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "oh? and why's that?"

"you’re just… walking around at night, alone, dragging me—your supposed fake boyfriend—to some unknown location." he narrowed his eyes. "for all you know, i could be leading you into danger."

you let out a soft laugh. "oh, please. if anyone’s the danger here, it’s me."

jeongin rolled his eyes. "right."

"you think i'm scared of you, topper?" you smirked, nudging his shoulder. "you’re, like, the least threatening person i’ve ever met."

"good," he said flatly. "that means i can stop pretending to tolerate you."

you gasped dramatically. "so rude! and here i was, thinking we were bonding!"

"bonding?" jeongin scoffed. "you kidnapped me."

you hummed, tilting your head. "wouldn’t call it kidnapping. more like… involuntary adventuring."

"that’s literally just a fancier way of saying kidnapping."

"details, details." you waved a hand dismissively, your bracelets jingling softly.

jeongin shook his head, but there was a small—very small—curve to his lips.

for a while, the conversation drifted into comfortable silence. the only sounds were the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement, the occasional passing car, and the distant chatter of city life.

"you come here often?" jeongin asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

you glanced at him, slightly surprised by the question. "hmm?"

"wherever it is we're going," he clarified, watching your expression closely. "you seem… familiar with the way."

you hesitated for a second, but then you smiled. "yeah. i do."

he studied you, noticing how your fingers fiddled with the strap of your bag—a small, almost absentminded gesture. "alone?"

"sometimes." you exhaled lightly, looking up at the sky. "other times, with my friends."

jeongin didn’t miss the slight shift in your tone. it was subtle, but it was there.

"and tonight?" he asked, glancing at you. "why me?"

you turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze.

and for a moment—just a moment—you didn’t say anything.

the city lights reflected in your eyes, turning them into something almost ethereal. the night breeze played with the loose strands of your hair, making them dance against your cheekbones. there was something unreadable in your expression, something jeongin couldn’t quite place.

but then— you grinned.

"because i felt like annoying you," you said simply.

jeongin blinked. and then scoffed. "wow. and here i thought i was special."

"oh, you are," you teased, looping your arm through his before he could react. "you're my favorite victim, actually."

he stiffened. "y/n—"

"you’re warm," you interrupted, pressing closer. "a human heater. i should keep you around more often."

jeongin let out a very long sigh, tilting his head toward the sky like he was asking some higher power for patience.

"you're insufferable," he muttered.

"and you are cute."

"shut up."

you giggled. "ooooh, that blush is telling me a different story."

jeongin groaned, refusing to meet your gaze. "i hate this bet."

"you love this bet."

he side-eyed you. "you know, i think you might be evil."

you only winked. "oh, honey. i'm very aware."

and the walk continued like that—small banter, stolen glances, the occasional brush of hands when neither of you were paying attention.

jeongin hated how natural it felt.

hated how easy it was to talk to you.

hated how, despite himself, he was actually curious about where you were taking him.

he didn’t get attached.

he didn’t, right?.

but with every teasing smile you threw his way, with every time your fingers lingered against his, with every moment you laughed at something he said—

he started to wonder.

maybe jisung had been right.

maybe this bet was a really, really bad idea.

the view you chose for me

the path sloped upward, curving gently along the hillside. the city behind you had slowly started to fade, the buzzing neon signs replaced by the soft hum of cicadas, the distant rustling of leaves, and the whisper of the evening breeze. the sky above stretched out like a painting, shifting from the last golden hues of sunset into the deepening blues of twilight.

jeongin slowed his steps, glancing at you. "are we almost there?"

"patience, iyennie," you hummed, walking ahead with a skip in your step. "good things take time."

he rolled his eyes, but a small, amused exhale escaped his lips.

then, finally, the world opened up.

the trees thinned, revealing an expansive hilltop that overlooked the city. a vast, open field of wild grass spread around you, swaying lightly in the wind. the horizon stretched endlessly, where the last golden threads of daylight kissed the deepening night. below, the city twinkled like scattered stars, a soft, pulsing glow of blues, oranges, and whites.

and above, the first stars had begun to appear.

tiny, glimmering specks against a sky that seemed endless. wisps of deep indigo melted into shades of violet, streaked with soft pinks from the remnants of the sun. there was something ethereal about it—something quiet, untouched, almost unreal.

jeongin exhaled, barely noticing how his breath caught for a second.

you, on the other hand, stretched your arms out with a dramatic sigh. "isn't it beautiful?"

he glanced at you.

the wind had tousled your hair, strands of it floating like silk against the dim light. your face, turned toward the sky, was bathed in soft twilight, the shadows curving gently along your cheekbones. your eyes reflected the distant stars, and when you smiled—

your lips curled into a slow, satisfied grin, and your eyes crinkled into tiny crescents.

something in jeongin’s chest lurched.

"yeah," he murmured before he could stop himself. "it is."

you turned to him, blinking. "see? told you it was worth it."

jeongin tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. "it’s… alright."

you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. "wow. that almost sounded like a compliment, yang."

"don’t push your luck," he muttered, walking past you.

you grinned, plopping down on the grass before patting the space next to you. "sit. enjoy the view."

he hesitated.

then, with a small sigh, he sat down beside you, the grass cool beneath his palms. the air smelled faintly of earth and rain, the breeze gentle as it curled around both of you.

a moment passed in silence, the two of you simply staring at the sky.

you reached into your bag, pulling out a small snack box.

jeongin glanced over. "what’s that?"

"food, obviously," you teased, opening the lid. inside, neatly packed, were a few triangular onigiris wrapped in seaweed. "can't survive without snacking every moment,"

you picked one up and held it out to him. "here. i made these this morning."

jeongin blinked. "you cooked?"

"is it so surprising? i'm a good chef, i'll have you know." you frown, and wiggled the rice ball in front of him. "c’mon. try it. first time making them, so i need honest feedback, topper."

he hesitated, eyeing you for a second before reaching out to take it.

and that’s when it happened.

you looked at him—waiting, expectant, your expression filled with the kind of excitement that was so genuine it almost startled him. the soft glow of the evening light traced the edges of your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the arch of your brow, the slight parting of your lips. your lashes cast tiny shadows against your skin, and when you smiled, your dimples deepened, your eyes turning into crescents once again.

jeongin—

forgot to breathe.

for a fraction of a second, he didn’t care about the stupid bet. didn’t care about the fake dating, or the fact that he was supposed to be annoyed by all of this.

all he could think about—

was how pretty you looked.

and then—

you turned your gaze back to the sky.

the moment broke, like ripples in a pond.

jeongin blinked rapidly, forcing himself to look anywhere else. he bit into the onigiri, trying to act normal.

it was good.

really good.

but he wasn’t about to inflate your ego, obviously.

"it’s… okay," he mumbled.

you frowned, clutching your chest. "just okay?"

he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "i’m just being honest, like you asked."

you narrowed your eyes, then suddenly leaned in closer, way too close. "are you lying?"

jeongin stiffened.

you were right there, inches from his face, eyes locked onto his like you were searching for the truth. the scent of vanilla and something faintly floral drifted from you, and jeongin—

had to grip his knee to keep himself from leaning back.

"i—" he swallowed. "no."

you hummed, tilting your head. "hmm. suspicious."

then, before he could react, you grinned.

"well, i think i did an amazing job." you leaned back, stretching your arms behind you. "maybe i should become a chef. quit university. open a cute little café. i’d call it ‘y/n’s love bites.’"

"love bites?" jeongin actually choked on air this time.

"hey, careful!" your eyes widened, your hands immediately burying into your bag, pulling a bottle out. you hand it to him, after opening it.

"what? is it not a nice name?" you pout at the look he gave you after gulping down the entire bottle, still coughing.

"really though? love bites?"

"mhm." you laughed. "because.. love bites. and because i’m good at biting. and love. and actually, love b-"

"god forbid a man wants to have a snack in peace."

you burst out laughing. "jeez, relax, iyennie. i’m kidding."

"you’re really insufferable."

"and you are fun to tease." you winked.

jeongin groaned, looking away.

but his ears—

were very, very red.

—

the stars were out in full now, scattered across the endless stretch of the night sky. the city below twinkled in response, as if the lights of the world and the heavens were competing for brilliance. the grass beneath you both was soft, slightly damp from the evening air, but comforting in a way that made neither of you want to move.

the silence between you had settled into something familiar—not awkward, not tense. just there. a moment where neither of you had to fill the space with meaningless words.

but then again, you’d never been one for silence.

"so," you started, shifting slightly so you faced him, "i realized something."

jeongin barely glanced at you, still watching the stars. "what?"

"i don’t know anything about you."

he raised an eyebrow. "you know plenty."

"mm, do i?" you leaned back on your palms. "i know you're stinky smart. i know you have the ability to make even professors shut up with a single argument. i know you have the fashion sense of a pinterest model and the patience of a grandma stuck in traffic."

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "that’s oddly specific."

"am i wrong?"

"…no."

"exactly." you grinned before tilting your head. "but i mean, i don’t know you. like, i don’t know what makes you tick. what makes you.. you. i don’t know what you wanted to be when you were a kid, what your childhood was like, what your favorite memory is."

jeongin stayed quiet, eyes flickering toward you briefly.

you rested your chin on your knees, watching him. "i wanna know."

"you’re way too curious."

"and you’re way too closed off."

he sighed, shaking his head. "you don’t need to know all that. we’re only dating in front of my parents. not here."

"yeah, well, i want to get to know you," you said simply. "and this is completely unrelated to the whole fake dating thing. it can be platonic, you know? i just think it’s unfair that you probably know way more about me than i do about you."

jeongin looked at you, thoughtful. "do i?"

"you tell me, topper."

his lips twitched slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he was considering something. then, with a small sigh, he leaned back on his elbows.

"alright. what do you want to know?"

your eyes lit up. "anything?"

"within reason."

you hummed, thinking. "okay. what did you want to be when you were a kid?"

jeongin let out a short laugh. "you’re gonna make fun of me."

"oh, now i really have to know."

he rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly. "i wanted to be a detective."

your eyebrows shot up. "no way. detective yang jeongin?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered. "i used to love mystery novels as a kid. thought i’d grow up solving impossible cases, catching criminals, the whole thing."

you grinned. "that’s actually kind of cute."

he scoffed. "yeah, well, then i realized i’d have to deal with actual crime, and i was like, ‘yeah, no thanks.’"

you burst out laughing. "you wanted to be sherlock holmes but without the danger?"

"pretty much." he shrugged. "so i settled for something else."

"which is?"

"business and english."

you made a face. "oh so we're almost twinning?"

"i thought you knew?"

"um no? we barely share any other sessions, only sometimes, business."

"well that's because we have different batches, genius."

"huh. when's yours?"

"at nine."

you clicked your tongue. "good lord, typical topper behavior."

he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "alright, your turn. what did you want to be as a kid?"

you hummed. "i went through so many phases. i wanted to be a singer, a poet, an author, a fashion designer, a painter… i was all over the place."

jeongin’s eyes softened slightly. "you’re still kind of all those things."

you blinked, caught off guard, ready to fight. "excuse me?"

"no, i mean, you write. you sing. you compose. you’re always dressed like you just walked out of a magazine." his voice was casual, as if he wasn’t just casually complimenting you without thinking.

and for some reason—

your heart stumbled a little.

you quickly recovered, clearing your throat. "well. somebody is paying attention."

he smirked. "unfortunately."

you gasped, nudging his shoulder. "and here i thought we were having a moment."

"you should know better by now," he teased, but there was something gentle in the way he said it.

you huffed dramatically. "fine, whatever. but i thought walking out of a magazine was your thing?"

"i wouldn't mind someone appreciating fashion, darling."

"...moving on. next question. what’s your favorite memory?"

jeongin hesitated for a second. then, with a small exhale, he said, "when i was ten, my family took a trip to japan. we went during the cherry blossom season, and i remember standing under this huge tree, just watching the petals fall. it felt like…" he paused, searching for the word. "magic."

your lips parted slightly.

for a moment, you could see it—ten-year-old jeongin standing under a sea of pink, eyes wide with wonder, cherry blossoms falling around him like soft whispers of a dream.

"you still remember it that vividly?" you asked softly.

"yeah." he looked up at the sky. "some moments just… stick with you."

your chest ached a little at that.

you didn’t know why.

you shook off the feeling. "well. that’s a very wholesome memory."

he smirked. "what were you expecting? something embarrassing?"

"maybe," you admitted, grinning. "but i like this one, too."

a comfortable silence settled between you again.

"what about you?" he asked.

you blinked. "huh?"

"your favorite memory."

you smiled slightly, hugging your knees. "i have a lot of good ones. but, if i had to pick, maybe…" you trailed off, thinking.

jeongin waited patiently.

you finally spoke. "back home, we used to have power outages a lot. and whenever that happened, my mom and i would sit outside with candles, just talking. we’d make shadow animals on the wall, tell stories, and drink warm milk while waiting for the lights to come back."

jeongin listened intently, his expression unreadable.

"it was such a simple thing," you murmured, "but it always made me feel.. safe."

for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

then, finally, he said, "that sounds.. comforting."

you glanced at him.

there was something warm in his eyes, something quiet and understanding.

and for the first time that night—

you weren’t thinking about the bet.

you weren’t thinking about how you were supposed to be fake dating in front of his parents.

it was just the two of you.

sitting under the stars.

sharing pieces of yourselves you never expected to.

and somehow— it didn’t feel fake at all.

it was peaceful.

you were still determined to learn everything about him.

not just for the bet.

not just for fun.

but because, if you were honest, he intrigued you.

and you always liked figuring people out.

so, after a few minutes of silence, you spoke again.

"so," you started, shifting slightly to face him, "we were talking about memories."

jeongin glanced at you. "we were."

"you know what we weren't talking about?" you raised an eyebrow. "your love life."

he scoffed. "love life? who said i have one?"

you gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "wait, no way. don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend before, iyennie."

"i literally told you i've never been on a date.. like on day one." he shot you a look. "also, don't call me that."

"i think you know that i don't believe that," you grinned. "also, i will always call you that."

he exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting ever agreeing to this conversation. "i’ve had one."

you perked up. "so you did!" your eyes lit up with curiousity. "so, one? as in, just one?"

"yeah."

"how long ago?"

he hesitated for a second. "three years."

your mouth dropped open. "damn, that’s—wait. that means you’ve been single since you were—"

"yeah, yeah," he cut you off, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just… haven’t really been interested in dating since."

"interesting," you mused. "so what happened?"

jeongin sighed, clearly debating whether to answer.

then, after a moment, he said, "she was.. nice. we just weren’t meant to be, i guess."

you narrowed your eyes. "that’s such a boring answer, yang. give me details."

he smirked slightly, shaking his head. "you’re really nosy, you know that?"

"and you're really secretive." you tilted your head, watching him. "it’s okay if it.. ended badly. you can tell me."

he was quiet for a beat, then finally spoke.

"it wasn’t bad, exactly. we just had different priorities," he admitted. "she wanted a lot more attention, a lot more time together. and i was…" he paused, exhaling. "i was too focused on school, my goals. she got frustrated. said i didn’t care about her enough."

you hummed. "did you?"

he frowned slightly. "i did care about her."

"but maybe not in the way she wanted," you guessed.

jeongin gave you a look, as if surprised at how quickly you caught on. "yeah."

you nodded, thoughtful. "so, you’re the kind of guy who expresses love in actions, not words, huh?"

he blinked. "i guess you could say that."

"noted." you grinned. "i’ll expect a bunch of favors and free tutoring sessions as proof of love."

he rolled his eyes. "we’re not in love."

"not yet," you teased.

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "you really think you’re gonna win this bet, huh?"

"oh, i know i will," you said smugly. "face it, topper, you like me."

"i tolerate you," he corrected.

"that's what they all say," you laughed. "give it time."

for a moment, he just watched you, his gaze unreadable. then, shaking his head, he muttered, "unbelievable."

you turned your attention back to the sky. "alright, next question."

"you’re not done interrogating me yet?"

"of course not. i’m just getting started." you shot him a smirk. "so, mr. future ceo, what’s something you’re actually passionate about? like, not just academically."

he hesitated.

you raised an eyebrow. "you do have hobbies, right? you don’t just study for fun?"

"of course i have hobbies," he muttered.

"well?"

"…i like music."

you blinked. "wait, really?"

he nodded. "yeah. i don’t do it as much now, but i used to sing trot with my grandparents all the time when i was younger."

you stared at him, genuinely surprised. "you? music?"

"what’s so shocking about that?"

"i don’t know! you just seem like ‘i only study and occasionally judge people’."

"well, i do judge people." he smirked. "i also kinda life photography, for some reason."

"really? so he likes singing and photography? what kinds?"

"mostly landscapes. architecture. things that don’t move too much."

you hummed. "so, no people?"

"not really." he glanced at you. "though… i think i’d like taking pictures of someone if they were interesting enough."

you tilted your head. "like who?"

for a second, jeongin didn’t answer. his eyes flickered over your face, something unreadable in his expression.

then, with a small smirk, he simply said, "dunno. haven’t found them yet."

your stomach did a weird little flip.

you cleared your throat. "huh. well. you should show me your pictures sometime."

he shrugged. "maybe."

you nudged his shoulder. "that means yes."

"that means maybe."

"sure, sure." you grinned before shifting topics. "alright, what’s your biggest ick in a person?"

he smirked slightly. "besides you?"

"rude," you huffed.

he pretended to think. "probably… people who pretend to be someone they’re not."

you nodded. "yeah, i get that. fake personalities are exhausting."

"what about you?"

you didn’t hesitate. "people who can’t communicate."

jeongin raised an eyebrow. "that’s… a very mature answer."

"right?" you sighed dramatically. "like, if you have a problem, just say it. why do people make everything so complicated?"

jeongin chuckled. "agreed."

there was a pause before you added, "also, people who wear socks to bed. they scare me."

he burst out laughing. "what? why?"

"i don't know, it just feels wrong!"

"you’re insane," he said, shaking his head.

"maybe. but at least i’m not a sock-sleeper."

jeongin laughed again, and for some reason, the sound made your chest feel warm.

the conversation continued, shifting from childhood stories to embarrassing moments, from random questions to deep musings.

at one point, you found yourself just… watching him.

the way his dimples appeared when he smiled.

the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

the way his gaze softened ever so slightly when he looked at you.

and maybe, just maybe—

you were in trouble.

but you weren’t going to admit that.

not yet.

for now, you were just a girl sitting under the stars with a boy who was supposed to be your fake boyfriend.

and yet, somehow—

it didn’t feel fake at all.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[gold-onthe-inside]

contingency operations

n. def. - a situation requiring military operations in response to natural disasters, terrorists, subversives, or as otherwise directed by appropriate authority to protect US interests.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: when a former navy SEAL threatens your base of operations, your safety is the only thing on spencer's mind. content warnings: jealous and pining spencer, gun talk, spencer kind of manhandles you, spencer getting cockblocked by jj word count: 1.8k a/n: don't hate me, i didn't have his confession speech planned.

It’s not that far a stretch for you to be the first person he thinks of — while JJ’s negotiating with her DoD contacts to get them a look at a classified operation, he’s gone upstairs to look for you. Working in counterintelligence meant you had access to all kinds of information, whether that be domestic or international. Spencer carefully carried the cup of coffee, file pinned under his arm, aiming to find you at your cubicle, except you’re standing at another one, perched on the table while you talked to another person.

Spencer’s not the kind to get jealous, or so he thought, except the guy you’re talking to isn’t like the others who occupy the floor — he’s got broad shoulders and an easy smile, and at least if he was blond, he wouldn’t have been competition. He just had to be a brunet, charming to top it off. Spencer doesn’t know if he’s ever made you smile unless you were teasing him.

The longer he stands there, the more awkward he feels, and he eventually gets the nerve to knock on your desk and make you look up — an improvement to a year ago where he would have just pretended to look lost and leave. His stomach turns when he watches you place your hand on the guy’s shoulder, squeezing as you walk away.

“Is that a bribe I see?” you asked, the corner of your lip curling as you spied the coffee in his hand.

“Nope, it’s completely unrelated to the favor I came to ask,” Spencer said, earning a rueful look as you take it and sit in your chair.

“What do you need?” you asked, sipping the coffee that was made perfectly to your liking — he'd gotten to know your preferences better over the last year, spending more time together since the Doyle case. You'd been an escape from the suffocating emptiness of the bullpen, and he'd been good company when you had been barred from Penelope's lair for 6 months.

“Anything you might have on Dorado Falls,” Spencer said, his voice rising an octave in hope that you might help as you go through your files.

“And Pen can’t do this because?” you asked, pulling up your file directory.

“She doesn’t have clearance,” Spencer said, lacing his fingers together and twisting it in his nervousness. As expected, you turn your head to look at him.

“You want eyes on a classified op you don’t have the clearance for?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

“Yes?” He's got this puppy-eyed look, like when he asks if you have lunch plans, or if you want to see a 4-hour long sci-fi film that's only available in Russian.

“Reid,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. “I can’t just—”

“He killed 8 people in one day,” Spencer insisted in a hushed voice. “He’s got a U.S. General as a hostage, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He watched your folded lips, your contemplative look, and he can finally take a breath when you turn your chair and acquiesce.

“You people are gonna get me fired one of these days,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer leaning over your shoulder as you find the file you’re looking for. “Navy SEAL operation, 2003, this what you’re looking for?” you asked, his breath fanning over your cheek, warm and coffee-tinged. If you turned your head, you could probably kiss his cheek — not that you would. But the thought crosses your mind as he nodded.

“That’s the one,” he said, and moved when you had to reach for the drawer, copying the file onto a clean flashdrive before ejecting it.

“I like my job, Reid,” you said, turning to look at him, which you could do forever with his coiffed hair and blue sleeves rolled to his elbows, paired with a grey vest. “If I get fired, you’re paying my rent,” you continued, pressing the flashdrive into his hand and his lips break into a smile.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he replied, closing his hand over the drive and leaving you to your work, and you watched him walk until he got to the glass doors, holding back a laugh as you watched him break into an awkward run for the elevators.

The next time he goes to your floor, he doesn’t bother waiting for the lift, running up stairs as fast as he can to get to you before the unsub does — even though it’s wholly unprofessional. He needs to be with his team, ready to talk down the unsub at a moment’s notice, but his focus shattered the moment he found out you hadn’t evacuated yet. Instead, you were focused on activating a failsafe program, in case anyone other than the members of your division moved to access the network on your floor.

“What are you still doing here?” Spencer yelled at you, almost skidding to your cubicle.

“Almost done, give me a second,” you said, gritting your teeth, fingers flying over your keyboard as you authenticate yourself. “Jesus Christ, I need to make this program faster,” you muttered and Spencer swears that if the unsub doesn’t kill you, he might.

“Really? There’s a Navy SEAL breaking into the building, and you’re thinking of more projects to work on?” he demanded, his hands pressed to his revolver.

“There’s a Navy SEAL on his way and you think a cowboy pistol’s gonna save you?” you retorted sharply.

“What do you have against my gun?” he asked, his voice rising in octave again.

“Uh, how about the reload for one,” you said. “What, do you carry around spare bullets in your pocket? Plus the recoil rules out rapid fire. What are you gonna do if you get pinned down?”

“I’m gonna keep you from getting killed,” he said, reaching out to grip your bicep. “You’re right, I don’t have the firepower of an uzi, what I can do is get us out of this room,” he finished, tugging your arm.

"Hold on, it's almost done," you muttered.

"No, I'm dragging you out of here now-" He said, but you just shrugged, still tapping away at the keys with only your left hand free.

"No, you can't," you said idly as you continued to work. "You haven't the strength to get me to move without cooperation, and I'm not leaving until I finish this."

“I-“ he opened his mouth, then closed it. What was he going to say? That you were being stubborn for the sake of it? That your life was more important than this task? That you should get up, and run with him? That he’d save you? He couldn’t voice any of those. You both knew them all anyway, and you’d be able to rebuff them with ease. “Just hurry, please.”

He leaned closer to you, trying to ignore the soft scent of your hair.

"Oh, well, now that you've told me to hurry," you responded dryly, turning your face to look at him, inches away from his. The proximity surprised him, but he barely had time to think about it before you were hitting return and taking your hand off the keys.

“Done,” you announced, standing up. “Time to run. Unless, of course, you want to argue about that too?”

"Can we?" he asked, pulling you along the corridor. "I do have a list of complaints about your recklessness."

"You have a list of complaints about everything," you retorted as he opened the fire escape door for you. You stepped through, Spencer closing the door behind you both.

"Your general attitude is up there," He admitted, running down the stairs and pulling you after him. "Your inability to keep yourself safe, your tendency to throw yourself into danger for the sake of a project—"

"Jesus Christ, Reid, if we find out a rogue operative is going to break in, you don't think we'd have a protocol for it?" you argued, frustrated.

"Yes, I believe the protocol is to evacuate," he reminded you, reaching the landing. He kept you close, though he'd never admit that it was to reassure himself.

"God, for a genius, you really are daft," you muttered, rounding the corner to another flight of stairs. "You think we'd just leave the entire network open for him?"

"No," he allowed, following your hurried footsteps. "But I don't think your life should be worth the risk. No data is worth you dying."

"Yeah, how about dozens of classified operations and cover identities that need to be kept under wraps?" you snapped at him. "I was doing my job, you're the one who came looking for me when you should be with your team."

"The team knows my priority is with you," he admitted, then immediately regretted it because that was information that he hadn't been planning to tell you.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. "What does that mean?"

His eyes widened and he backtracked. "The team knows that if you're threatened, the likelihood is I'll disregard protocol," he said. Well, it was the truth, even if it wasn't really what he'd meant. "We should keep moving," he said.

"No, you can't keep doing this," you demanded, pulling at his arm. "Every time, every time, you say this cryptic coded thing that I don't know what to do with. Just say what you mean, already!"

"I-I don't..." Spencer's heart was hammering in his chest, his eyes wide. The truth was, he wanted to tell you. He wanted you to know where you stood with him... but the fear of rejection would stop him every time. He was in love with you. He hadn't had the courage to admit it yet. His earpiece interrupts him, and for once in his life, Reid is almost glad to have his earpiece interrupt his thoughts.

“Reid, we’re seeing movement on the 7th floor, where are you?” JJ asked, her voice rushed.

"I'm in the stairwell with the most stubborn woman in the world," he said, looking pointedly at you as you scowled at him.

“Get back up here,” JJ replied. “We need all hands on deck.”

"I'm coming," he said, and looked at you. "So much for getting you out," he murmured. "If you run now, can I trust you won't go back to your desk?"

“Believe it or not, I have no interest in facing a 6 ft Navy SEAL,” you replied dryly.

"So that's a yes," he says, smiling despite his attempt to remain serious.

I'm in love with you, he thought, but he wasn't brave enough to say.

I don't want to lose you. He was even less willing to voice that.

"Don't stop running till you're out," he told you instead, his voice as firm as he could make it.

"Don't get killed by a SEAL," you replied, your sense of humor never failing you as you add, "Although, it would be a cool way to go out."

"I'm sure you'll be very smug about it at my funeral," he said, but neither of you were really smiling anymore. "I'll be okay," he promised you. "Get out of here."

You take one last lingering look at him, then started running down to the exit, leaving him behind.

It took him a full 5 seconds to start moving after you finally left, and the feeling of emptiness in his chest only grew with each step up the stairs.

He was in love with you, and he was determined to tell you.

Just not yet.

[mewhenimanangel]

need that, hamzahthefantastic

prev pt 3*

—synopsis. hamzah invites you over to be in their new video

—warnings!: freaky uti, dry humping, undressing

notes 🫧: the fight was so tuff, i’m a die hard noob

—🐞

you parked your car outside hamzah’s house, fixing your lip gloss and zipping up your sweater before going to knock on his door.

him and martin invited you to be in one of their sims videos since mandy was on vacation and they knew you played as well.

it’s been around two weeks since you and hamzah made out in his car. since then, you’d been texting a lot more and you hung out twice with mandy and martin. though, you haven’t done anything to continue what he started.

hamzah answered the door with a grin, “come on in boi, we haven’t started playing yet. martin’s still connecting the camera and the mic” he closed the door behind you.

you felt something brush against your leg, looking down to see his cat rubbing itself on your leg. “awwww he’s so cute” you reached down to see if he’d let you pick him up.

when he did you held him in your arms and rubbed behind its ear. “which one is this?” you asked hamzah. “this is blue. red’s probably upstairs somewhere clawing at something.” he said, reaching over your arm to pet blue.

“i had to put a child lock on my fridge cause they figured out how to open it bruh” he shook his head.

you giggled looking at him with a smile.

“oh hey y/n, didn’t know you were here already. i just finished setting up the camera” martin said. “heyy” you put blue down on the floor, following martin.

“you ready to get your sims on?” he asked. “try freaking born ready” you giggled, hamzah following behind you.

you sat off to the side on the couch in hamzah’s office while they started the video. “hello everynyan-” hamzah interrupted him “dude what” “it’s like a meme like have you ever seen it? it’s like oh my gahhh” martin awkwardly repeated the video, hamzah stifling a laugh. “anyways we’re back and better than frigging ever” martin started off.

“now it has been a while-“ “definitely been a while-“ “right, a while since our regularly scheduled programming” hamzah said. “i hope you guys enjoyed the fight, we worked super hard literally for like six months”

“and you may realize we’re not in our usual spot, wanna tell them why that is?” martin said. “yes we are, we’re in my house this time because mandy’s on vacation and martin, feeling like a sad little lonely boy wanted to come over and play with me”

“yes mandy is gone. she is in spain right now because she doesn’t love me anymore. you know what they say, ‘go to spain when your lover’s a pain’. that’s why she hasn’t proposed to me yet in the big year of twenty twenty-five” martin went on. “literally nobody says that”

“but speaking of mandy, today we’re playing the sims. something we haven’t done in a long time and we need a little bit of a refresher” “yes, the sims is a girl game and since we don’t have mandy, we brought back up” hamzah added.

“yes, we obviously cannot play this game ourselves so we brought in another expert” they looked at each other before counting down from 3 and snapping their fingers. you knew they were gonna put some silly transition effect over this.

hamzah got up to get another chair for you “you good?” he asked you, making sure you were comfortable. and you nod your head before sitting between them. “hellurr. yes i am mandy’s back up today. because obviously, they don’t know what they’re doing so im taking over.”

“dude what is it with girls and the sims. only girls know how to play the sims” martin and hamzah riffed while you logged into your sims account.

“now this is your first time on here y/n, how do you feel in the presence of such greatness” martin asked. “well im honored to be on but i don’t know about ‘greatness’” you joked.

after two hours of creating sims and making them kill, cheat, fornicate, and find love, they ended the video. “banger video alert” hamzah turned the computer off. “uhh yeah that was really good if i do say so myself.” you pat yourself on the back.

the three of you lounged around hamzah’s living room for another hour after that. “are you guys hungry?” hamzah asked “i was gonna order some food” “actually i still have some packing to do for my flight tomorrow” martin sighed while playing with red. “oh shit right, i forgot” hamzah shrugged.

“i’m gonna head out now bro i’ll see you next week” he dapped hamzah up before doing the same to you. hamzah followed him out before closing the door behind him.

“i could eat” you shrugged and hamzah smiled. he pulled his phone out and ordered chick-fil-a, adding in your order.

you sat criss crossed on his couch as blue jumped into your lap, snuggling up against you and purring. “his ass definitely likes you” hamzah chuckled.

“do you want one?” he asked, coming back from his bedroom with a little jar of edibles. “sure” you reached to grab one with your nails.

hamzah grabbed one too and you tapped them together in a ‘cheers’ motion before eating them.

you soured your face and gagged “okay these are nasty oh my god” you laughed. “yeah they taste like butt but they do the job. the food should be here in like twenty minutes” he said, joining you on the couch.

you helped him review the footage from the video before he sent it to their editor. by now the edible was beginning to kick in and you were growing hungrier by the minute. his door bell rung and he got up to answer the door.

he came back holding the bags of food up with a smile on his face and plopped down onto the couch, this time much closer to you, legs and arms touching.

“fuck i’m starving. is that shit kicking in for you yet?” he asked, handing you your sandwich and fries. “oh it is” you grinned.

“have you ever had the mac and cheese?” he asked you. “no i usually go for the fries” “okay here you gotta try it.” he took some on his fork and put it in front of your mouth, paying close attention to the way your lips wrapped around the fork. “right?” he nod his head at your reaction.

“wait here, you’ve got some cheese on your mouth” he said, brushing your lip off with a napkin. “oh..oops” you giggled through your slowed words.

the two of you tore through your food, turning on family guy in the background. “that was so fucking good” you looked at him, eyes low and red.

“right…..i’m stuffed.” you slowly sipped on your milkshake. “do you ever think about what they do with the cut out pieces of fries?” you asked, just chatting. “i always wonder but they probably just throw them away.” he added.

you leaned back into the couch, cross legged, knee resting atop of hamzah’s as he put his arm on the back of the chair behind you.

he slowly rubbed your bare shoulder that peeked from under your hoodie that was falling off. you leaned your head back, resting it on his arm before looking at him.

“so, are we just never gonna talk about it again?” you addressed the elephant in the room. “hm?” he looked at you. “the kiss, are we just gonna act like it didn’t happen?”

“no of course not, i just wasn’t sure if i had made you uncomfortable so i didn’t wanna push anything again” he shrugged. “hamzah i kissed you back for a reason. i wanted it” you reassured. “and i still do” you said, looking away for a second.

he grabbed your chin, turning your face back to his before kissing you. you leaned into the kiss, rubbing your nails at the back of his neck.

the room filled with your mutual satisfied sounds, hamzah pushing his hand up under your sweater. he laid you down against the couch arm, keeping himself steady atop of you.

he slowly pulled the zip down, taking off your sweater off, you willed yourself to follow his lead, wrapping your arms around him. he broke the kiss, “you good, right?” he asked. “yeah, keep going. i want you, hamzah” you reassured. he kissed you again before lining kisses down your jawline and throat. he sucked down on your skin “wait don’t leave any hickeys” you said through a moan.

“too late” he let out a breathy laugh, making you giggle. hamzah let out a soft noise at the feeling of your nails rubbing through his hair. he slowly eased his up under your tank top, reaching up he grabbed a handful of bra. “here, hang on” you sat up, taking off your shirt and throwing it by your sweater. you fiddled with your bra clasp and eased the straps off your shoulders, letting your boobs rest.

hamzah stared at them, mouth agape. “that was a push up bra by the way, so don’t be too disappointed” you joked. “how would i be disappointed. you’re fucking hot” he pulled you atop of him and kissed you, hands firm on your ass.

he kissed down the middle of your chest before his mouth latched on. you sighed in satisfaction when he rolled his tongue.

you subconsciously grinded your hips on his, feeling him grow. “fuck” you winced. you stayed in that position for a while, dry humping each other as he kissed and sucked all over your upper body. you felt yourself getting needier by the minute. “hamzah-“ you started before being interrupted by a knocking on the door. “dude let me in, i forgot my wallet” it was martin.

you looked at hamzah before getting up. he kissed you “go to my bedroom, i’ll be there in a second” he told you and you smirked before leaving the room.

hamzah let him in “ugh thank you, i was worried you fell asleep” martin said, spotting his wallet on the side table.

hamzah looked over his shoulder realizing your shirt and bra were still thrown around on the couch. “imagine i went all the way to spain and forgot this just sitting here” martin chuckled before turning around, hamzah missing the chance to let him not to.

“oou you got chick-fil-a? anything left?” he looked inside a bag before he came face to face with your bra. he turned around, jaw dropped “dude!” he gasped and hamzah grinned.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantasfic, clairedrakee and others

lvryn alright who pressed fast forward on my weekend 😂

mandys_iphone cute

user HELLO? is this a soft launch?????

ynlover omg this and how touchy they were in the sims video last month, they’re definitely dating ?)!(!;$:

— 🐞 the end

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

lunch break

Summary: Joel forgot his lunch at home. When you get to his work to bring it to him, he has you for lunch instead.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Raiting: E

Warnings: established relationship, no outbreak, breeding kink like woah, smut (unprotected sex, public sex, car sex) dirty talk, a little bit of exhibitionism, fluff too I guess

A/N: look, I don't know, this just happened, okay?

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

This wasn’t supposed how you thought bringing lunch to Joel would end.

It was supposed to be a quick in and out to the job site, bringing him the lunch he had forgotten before getting back home in time for Sarah to get back from school and take her to the dentist. You had taken the whole day off especially for that because you knew how scared she was to go to the dentist and Joel couldn’t take the day off. 

The project Joel was currently working on was almost a 45 minute drive somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Apparently some billionaire had bought the whole land and was now building a luxury hotel, Miller constructions first big contract they had won. 

It were long and exhausting hours but Joel did it all with a smile. 

Sure, one on one time with him had gotten less and less but you were in it for the long haul with him. So long that you had moved into his place earlier in the year. So long that you had talked about having a baby together. 

Something that very much took the backroad since this project started a couple months ago. Or so you thought as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, Joel towering over you in the dusty bed of his truck as he pumped his thick cock into you with deep and long strokes, making it hard to keep quiet. 

You weren’t even sure how this happened. 

One moment you walked towards the three containers that had been set up for all the workers, walking towards Joel who was sitting with his back towards you, the next moment he had you under him in his truck bed, panties pushed to the side under the summer dress you had been wearing, making enough room for his cock to fill you, him not having even pulled off his jeans, only pushing it down far enough to free his cock.  

„Not gonna let me hear you, huh?“ He teased, voice low as he leaned in, his lips kissing up your neck, steadily thrusting his cock into you. 

„Don’t want your people to hear,“ you whimpered, one hand in his hair, to keep his mouth right where it was as he sucked softly on that one spot on your neck he knew drove you insane. You crossed your legs behind his back, moaning at the changed angle he was filling you. 

„So fucking sexy,“ he grunted, kissing down towards your collarbone, his fingers pulling at the front of your dress just so he could free one of your nipples, his lips closing around it immediately after, sucking harshly. 

Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry, head thrown back as you looked up into the blue sky above the tree his car was parked beneath. 

Joel was dirty and sweaty, the shirt he had left the house with this morning replaced by a white wife beater that was clinging to his sweaty body. Sweat was dripping down his neck and fuck you don’t think you have ever been more turned on. 

He nibbled on your nipple and you pulled at his hair. 

„Can’t wait till these are full of milk,“ he mumbled against your skin as he kissed himself up your body, nose brushing over your skin as his hips slapped against yours, shaking the whole truck. 

„Full of milk for the baby I’m gonna fuck into you,“ he said, eyes on you before he kissed you deeply, tongue diving into your mouth while he fucked you even deeper. 

You could hear some men laughing in the not so far distance, and you gasped as you remembered just where you were. Were you let Joel have his way with you. You clenched around his cock and he moaned against your lips. 

„Need you to cum for me, baby,“ his forehead came to rest against yours as he fucked into you. 

„Need you to cum so I can fuck my cum so deep inside of you, it’ll take. Gonna make you a mama,“ he murmured, and you gasped. 

„Fuck, Joel,“ you moaned. 

„You want that? Want me to keep you full of my cum?“ He groaned and you nodded.

„I want that. Want you inside me all the time,“ you whined and he groaned a low fuck against your ear as he buried his face against your neck. You wrapped your arms behind his back, one of your hands buried in his sweaty hair.

"Gonna look so good with my baby inside of you. Not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you once you start to show,“ he whispered against your ear and you shuddered. 

„Cum for me baby,“ he sucked on your earlobe. 

„Cum for me so I can pump you full of my cum. Full of my baby,“ he groaned and you clamped down on him, cumming hard. 

„Oh fuck,“ he groaned when he felt you come, following you almost immediately, moaning against your ear as he came, spilling inside of of you, pumping you full with his cum. 

Both out of breath you just stayed like this, for how long you didn’t know. Could be seconds, minutes or hours, you weren’t sure as you held him in your arms, feeling his warm breath against your neck as he laid on top of you. 

He knew how much you loved having him on top of you. 

You brushed your fingers through his hair, a content smile sneaking to your face. 

„Where did that come from?“ You asked after a while and he sat himself up a little so he could look at you. 

„I know you’re ovulating,“ he said and you raised one eyebrow, intrigued at him knowing that.  

„And I’m just really fucking horny for you,“ he said like it was the most normal thing, making you giggle. He chuckled, smiling widely at you before he kissed you softly. 

„Love you,“ you mumbled against his lips. 

„Love you more,“ he mumbled back. 

You were already driving back down the dirt road when Joel made his way back to the construction site, trying to glare at the very obvious smirks and winks he received from his colleagues. 

But who the fuck was he kidding?

He’d go through all the teasing in the world to have a lunch break like that every day. 

It was hours later that he realised, he never actually ate anything.

[kamospeach]

told you i like gentle giants so you softened up .ᐟ

plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last one shot coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how your curls bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heading his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

[be4chywritez]

shot to the heart (and the nose) | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

You come home from college and Luke is smitten...maybe a little too smitten

beachy’s masterlist🐚

requests are open!

part two!

Growing up next door to the Hughes family meant one thing—hockey was a religion.

It was loud, it was competitive, and it was everywhere. If the Hughes brothers weren’t on the ice, they were playing in the driveway, tracking in mud from the lake, or tossing pucks against the garage door until Ellen threatened to take their sticks away.

And you?

You were the neighbor kid. Not quite in the mix, but not completely out of it either.

Your families were close—vacations together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas parties in the winter. You and the Hughes boys had spent years at each other’s birthday parties, running through sprinklers, roasting marshmallows, and competing over who could eat the most popsicles before Jim made you all go inside.

But if hockey was the Hughes brothers’ thing, quiet was yours.

Luke, in particular, had always been the opposite of quiet. He was the one making up rules for backyard games, the one yelling over everyone else, the one who would get so frustrated when you’d rather sit and watch than dive into the chaos.

He never bullied you for it, not in the way other kids might have, but he pushed—nudging you toward the action, insisting you could keep up, making sure you weren’t left out.

Jack and Quinn weren’t much different. Jack, the natural show-off, would always try to impress you (even if you weren’t watching), and Quinn, forever the responsible older brother, would make sure you didn’t get completely trampled by their energy.

Then, of course, you all grew up.

You spent high school buried in books and extracurriculars, aiming for an Ivy League acceptance letter. Luke spent it on the ice, chasing the NHL dream.

By senior year, your friendship had faded into nothing more than polite nods and see you at Christmas waves across the room.

And then you left for college.

Luke got drafted.

Life moved on.

Coming home after months at school was weird.

The air smelled the same, the roads felt the same, but you didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was the time away, or maybe it was the fact that being home again made you realize just how much things had changed.

The car rumbled up your street, your mom chatting about how good it is to have you back while you stared out the window.

And across the driveway, in the Hughes' kitchen, three heads turned in unison.

Jack was the first to react. He dropped his sandwich. Fully dropped it. “Holy shit.”

Quinn, still chewing, furrowed his brows. “What?”

Luke didn’t say anything, just stared.

Because there you were, climbing out of the car—same face, same features, but different.

College had done something to you. Or maybe you’d just grown into yourself.

Jack nudged Luke’s arm, grinning. “Dude. You seeing this?”

Luke was seeing it. That was the problem.

You were tan, your hair was different, your shorts were short, and fuck, had your legs always looked like that?

“Oh my god,” Quinn muttered, leaning against the counter. “Luke, close your mouth.”

Luke snapped his mouth shut, scowling. “Shut up.”

Jack just smirked. “Bet she still won’t talk to you.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

A few days later, you were walking up your driveway when you spotted Luke in his front yard.

He had his shirt on this time (unfortunately so) wearing a Team USA tee with the sleeves cut off, and ripping shots into the net with a ridiculous amount of force.

You should’ve known better.

Really, you should have known better.

Because one second, he was shooting.

And the next—

Crack.

Right to the face.

“Holy shit!”

Luke dropped his stick so fast it clattered against the pavement. In seconds, he was in front of you, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I didn’t see you,” he rambled, eyes darting between your nose and your expression. “Are you—holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your face. “Luke. What the fuck.”

“I swear I didn’t see you—”

“No shit.”

Luke winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.” He ripped his shirt off in one smooth motion, bunching it up before carefully pressing it against your nose. “Here, hold this.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Sacrificed my shirt for you? Yeah.”

“Oh, so chivalrous.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, tilting your chin up slightly to examine the damage. His hands were warm, calloused from years of hockey, and being this close to him was… distracting.

His eyes flickered over your face, studying you.

“You look… different,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You swallowed. “So do you.”

Luke smirked. “Yeah?”

And that was when you realized—he was still holding your chin.

And smiling at you.

And looking so unfairly good doing it.

You exhaled sharply. “Quit smiling at me.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I feel weird.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

His grin widened, slow and lazy. “Huh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said easily. “Just thinking I should smile at you more often.”

You groaned, shoving his chest. “Oh my god.”

Luke just laughed, but then his expression sobered. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Mom’ll kill me if I leave you out here bleeding.”

Before Luke could even pull you up, the door to the Hughes house slammed open.

Jack and Quinn came speed-walking���borderline running—toward you, eyes bouncing between Luke, you, and the blood dripping down your face.

Jack, of course, spoke first.

“Oh my god, did Luke hit you?”

You groaned, still pressing Luke’s (formerly white) Team USA shirt to your nose. “You say that like he didn’t just slapshot a puck into my face.”

Quinn sighed, looking so unimpressed. “Jesus, Luke.”

Luke, still crouched next to you, lifted his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t see her! I was just—”

Jack cackled, pointing at Luke like he’d just won the lottery. “You obliterated her!”

“Jack,” you deadpanned. “Not helping.”

Jack waved you off. “No, no, because this is insane. You come back from college looking totally different, and the second Luke sees you, he shoots his shot—literally.”

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack, I swear to—”

Jack ignored him. “I mean, I knew he was gonna lose it when he saw you again, but this—this is next level.”

Luke shoved him. “Can you shut up?”

Quinn, ever the responsible older brother, rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s get her inside before she passes out in our driveway.”

Jack smirked. “Or before Luke confesses his love again.”

Luke shoved him harder.

You just sighed.

The moment you stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of the Hughes home hit you—laundry detergent, whatever Quinn had been cooking earlier, and a faint trace of hockey gear.

And then—

“Oh my god!”

Ellen practically flew down the stairs, eyes zeroing in on your face.

Jim followed behind her, frowning. “Jesus, what happened?”

Jack, still very much enjoying the situation, grinned. “Oh, you know. Luke saw her for the first time in, like, a year and immediately tried to take her out.”

Luke groaned. “That is not what happened.”

Ellen, ignoring them, cupped your face as gently as she could, careful not to touch your nose. “Sweetheart, oh my gosh! You’re hurt!”

Jack, ever the instigator, added, “She is hurt, but also—she looks amazing, right?”

Ellen’s eyes flickered over your face—well, the parts of it that weren’t covered in blood—and beamed. “Oh, honey, you are stunning! Look at you! College has done wonders for you.”

You blinked. “Uh—”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Ellen, she’s bleeding.”

Ellen waved him off. “Yes, yes, I see that, but look at how grown up she is!” She turned to Quinn. “Quinn, tell me she doesn’t look gorgeous.”

Quinn, handing Luke an ice pack, huffed out a laugh. “She does.”

Jack smirked. “Luke sure thinks so.”

Luke whipped around. “Jack, I will actually—”

Jim chuckled, finally stepping in. “Alright, El, let’s fix her up before we start matchmaking.”

Luke, still looking like he desperately wanted to disappear, guided you to the kitchen table and sat you down. “Okay, let me—uh—yeah, just—” He fumbled with the ice pack, hands slightly shaky.

You raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Just—quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Luke exhaled sharply. “Like that.”

You smirked. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

Jack howled. Quinn raised his eyebrows.

Ellen gasped like this was the best news she had heard all day.

Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

Luke groaned.

And you?

You just smiled.

It was going to be a great summer.

part two!

[barcenal999]

Ava's going pro

Lucy Bronze x Bronze!daughterOC

Summary: Lucy was a teen mom and her 17 year old daughter tells her she's signing her first professional contract with Barcelona

It's set in Janurary 2024

Tags: fluff

Word count: 5k

A/N: I've posted this on AO3 before, but decided to start posting here

Ava made two cups of tea and came up to Lucy, who was sitting on the couch and reading a book. Probably something she would recommend to her later.

"Mom? Can we talk?" She didn't even know why she was so stressed about it. It's not like her going pro was something they never talked about. It's just that everyone always assumed she would finish high school first.

Lucy put down her book, patting the seat beside her, for the teenager to take. "Sure. What is it? A new coming out? You're straight? You're trans? You know you can always tell me, it's not like it would change anything in the way I love you." Lucy was never good with talking about serious subjects, so when she felt one coming, she rambled before Ava could even bring up the topic. "Please tell me you're not pregnant. Please don't make the same mistakes I did. I mean, you're not a mistake. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." She would have probably been rambling forever if she wasn't interrupted.

"Mom! Stop! Please. I'm not pregnant. You've been teaching me about safe sex and using protection since I was 13 years old."

"Well you know it's good to teach your kid about protection when they're younger than you were, when you got pregnant with them. It's the first rule of being a teen parent.” Lucy got pregnant when she wasn’t even 15 yet. She was deep in denial, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t a lesbian. Dating an 18 years old boy however, ended with her accepting that she had no interest in boys. 2 months after breaking up with him, she found out she was gonna be a single lesbian teen mom. „And it's good that you're not pregnant. There's already enough people living in this house."

"And who's fault is that?" Ava laughed at her mother and was thankful for her deflection. Being bad at talking about serious subjects was definitely genetic.

"Hey! You said you were okay with my poliamory."

"Yes mom, I'm great with it and I like both Keira and Ona. Can we stop talking about sex and relationships now, and talk about the important thing I have to ask you?"

Lucy sighed, getting herself ready for anything her daughter could throw at her. While Ava took a sip of her tea, the footballer decided it would be safest to put her cup down on the coffee table.

Ava took a deep breath to psyche herself up.

"How would you feel if I played with you on the team? Like, if I signed with Barca?" Her fingers seemed surprisingly interesting in that moment.

"Well, I already assumed that it would be Barça you would be signing with when you go pro. By why are you asking me now? You still have over a year of school left."

"So about that... you remember how some of us from the B team have been invited to train with you a week ago?" She hesitantly looked up at Lucy, and only continued when she saw her nod her head. She was surprised that the only thing she saw on her mom's face was curiosity, which gave her a boost of confidence. "Jona approached me and offered me a first team contract, since my contract for the B team is ending. He said that the details could be discussed when you agree."

Lucy's smile grew as her daughter kept talking. When she finished, she pulled her into a bone crushing hug.

"That's wonderful that they noticed you honey. I don't think you should be asking me for permission. You're almost an adult and I think it's your decision, but I would be thrilled to play beside you.” She took Ava’s face in her hands and directed her to look her in the eyes. „I’m so proud of you. It’s like yesterday you were barely walking and already kicking a ball, and now you’re 17 and signing a contract with the best club in Europe.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and let go of her face, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes.

So many years of doing her best at raising Ava, having the serious conversations when they were needed, yet she still couldn’t hold herself together. Immense pride filled her every time Ava achieved something new and she couldn’t control her emotions.

„I just want to be sure, that you’re ready for it.” The teenager stayed calm, as if it was her whos kid was about to sign a lifechanging contract, not the other way around. „Everyone will find out that you have me. The fans will know how young you had me.”

„I’ve had years to learn how to deal with the fans.” Lucy couldn’t get used to how mature her daughter has become. „How about we deal with it the good old Bronze way?"

„Tell no one and see how that goes for us? Sounds good to me. I wanna see people freak out and try to figure out our connection. My old teammates would always freak out about things like that. They’d create all of those speculations and conspiracy theories and I couldn’t say anything.”

That’s when they knew the conversation was over. Both Bronze women laughing and already turning on the TV, to watch another episode of Station 19.

When Keira and Ona came home a few hours later, there was a celebratory dinner waiting. Lucy didn’t let Ava help with any of the cooking and didn’t even let her set the table. „We’re celebrating you, so go sit down and put some music on.” She said, when the teen came asking what to do.

Ava was a big music fan and making hours long spotify queues and playlists was something she loved doing. Finding new music and then sharing it with her family was kind of a hobby for her.

„What is that smell?” Ona asked Ava, when she came up to greet her with a hug.

„I don’t know, she wouldn’t let me help, or even enter the kitchen.” Ava shrugged. „But if I was guessing from the smell, I would say she’s making my favourite lemon and chilli shrimp.” The smirk on her face told then, that she knew that was exactly that.

„Lucy! Why didn’t you let your kid help you with dinner?”

„It’s a special occasion! We’re celebrating her. I can’t let my daughter cook her own celebratory dinner.” When the two younger women heard that, Ona turned to look at Ava, while Keira turned to Lucy.

"What did you do?"

„Lucy! You weren’t supposed to encourage violent behaviour!”

They both said it at the same time and this time Lucy smiled sheepishly, like she actually had something to be ashamed of.

To be honest, the last time Lucy made a celebratory dinner for her daughter, was when Ava beat up a homophobe. When she picked her up from school, she told her teachers she would deal with her at home, but instead made a whole day celebrating her. She had to face a scolding from both her girlfriends that day.

„I didn’t do anything!” Ava lifted her hands in surrender.

„Yes you did. You are incredible.” Lucy said to the teenager and then turned to her girlfriends. „We’ll tell you as we eat.” They moved to the dining room and she grabbed an already opened bottle of white wine. “Ava? Do you want some?”

Lucy preferred for Ava to learn to drink responsibly under supervision, than for her to go out and learn it by drinking irresponsibly. She knew that her going out to drink with friends was inevitable, but she wanted for her to know how the alcohol affects her beforehand.

They finally sat down and Lucy distributed the shrimp (Ava was right) equally for everyone. As Ava started eagerly eating her dinner, Ona and Keira looked at Lucy expectantly. They were still sceptical, not sure if what they hear will actually be positive.

“So what’s the news?” Ava put down her fork, to tell them, but Lucy was faster.

“The details have not been discussed with the club yet, but Ava told me today, that she was offered a full senior team contract from Barca.” Both women who just heard the news stood up and wrapped the teenager in a tight hug.

“They said to discuss it with mom and then we’ll negotiate the contract. We’ll probably do the negotiations the day after tomorrow, since mom already called them to set it up. And it’s not like I need for them to pay me much, I’m not planning on moving out anytime soon. I already told mom I’ll contribute to the living costs accordingly, but she told me to save up the money and not worry about it.”

“It’s gonna be so fun to play and train with you!” Ona beamed. “We’re gonna cause so much mayhem.” She whispered in her ear, so that neither of the responsible adults (mostly Keira, neither of them was sure that Lucy could be called a responsible adult) could hear.

Lucy couldn’t believe this was her life. Two beautiful and wonderful girlfriends, who cared for her daughter. Ava starting a professional football career at just 17 years old. All four of them living their dreams in sunny Barcelona.

...

A week later, after Lucy’s morning field practice and Ava skipping out halfway through her school day, they were sitting in a room with a bunch of FC Barcelona officials, some of the coaching stuff. Pen in hand, number 17 shirt with the name A. Bronze on the back, Ava signed her contract. At first Lucy hid behind the cameras, not wanting to be captured by the media team. They also took some pictures with her in them, for later and for private use.

The team had an afternoon gym session that day, that Ava would be joining them on for the first time. They didn’t tell the rest of the team, besides the captains, about her contract, so it was going to be a surprise.

When everyone was finally in the gym, starting their workouts, Ava waited out the door with Jona. She was wearing her brand new training gear, with number 17. The coach entered the gym first, telling her to wait outside. He then got everyone’s attention. It took about 3 minutes, but finally everyone was quiet and looking at him.

“Most of you don’t know this yet, but we have a new player joining us, who just signed her contract.” It wasn’t surprising to have new people signing, since it was the middle of the January transfer window, and players often joined teams before it was announced.” Before I let her in, I’m seriously warning you, not to burn the whole training centre to the ground with her involved.” He pointed at the group of younger players. “I’m talking to you.” He opened the door to let Ava enter. “Everyone, welcome Baby England to the team!”

“Lucy why is your baby in our gym?!”

“Lucy you lost your kid again!”

“A little baby! Can I hold her?!”

“Jona! It’s dangerous to have little kids running around the gym.”

The teasing exploded within the gym, which caused Ava to frown. She tried to look upset, but in reality it made her happy, that she just signed her contract and her teammates immediately accepted her into their group, by teasing her and being annoying. This team was incredibly tight knit, many people bleeding blaugrana (Alexia especially). They were a family, and even though she, as Lucy’s daughter, was kind of already a part of it, now as their teammate she could finally be its actual member.

After about a minute of the room being filled with their teammates voices and laughter, Alexia decided that it was enough of teasing for Ava’s first hour on the team.

“Ok idiotas! Leave the kid be and get back to work. Vamos!" When everybody seemed to return to their own devices, Alexia turned to the teen. "We’re happy you’re joining us Ava and if you ever need anything and want to talk to someone who isn’t your mother or her girlfriends, I’m always there.”

After that, the team got back to their workouts, Jona explaining to Ava what she was supposed to be doing, and leaving them to be looked at by the performance coaching team.

When halfway throughout the session, their phones started to blow up (mostly Lucy’s), they knew that Ava joining the team has been announced to the public, and the mayhem of speculation has started.

The post description stated:

fcbfemeni We’re happy to announce, finishing her B team contract, U-20 England Lioness Ava Bronze has signed a 2 year senior team contract! Welcome to the family!

“Just so you know” Lucy warned everyone. “We’re not saying anything about Ava’s relation to me. We decided it would be funny to let the fans make up their own theories.”

“Idiotes” muttered Alexia, but her face was showing nothing but amusement.

Mapi, who was standing next to her, the two doing their rehab exercises together, burst out laughing.

“I think you mean geniuses!” She got a glare from unimpressed Ingrid.

“I can’t wait to watch all of the theories on tiktok.” Stated Ava. “Or tumblr. That one’s crazy, cause most people there are more or less anonymous. Some of you wouldn’t survive there.” She laughed to herself, thinking about the fanfics and crazy posts she’s seen on there.

“You have to show me.” Stated Mapi.

“I wanna see that.” Jana joined the conversation. “Mapi, can we create a tumblr account for you?”

“Si” She turned to Ingrid, who was already rubbing her temples, with a big grin on her face. “The kids will teach me the internet.”

“You guys, back to work, you can talk when we finish.” Alexia went back to her captain self.

...

Three days after Ava’s signing was announced, before they started their evening movie, she was reading speculation posts on social media. She was going through a post comparing her and Lucy’s characteristics, when Keira looked over her shoulder. (Lucy and her girlfriends usually respected her privacy, but now, they became her annoying older teammates, so the privacy went out the window.)

“How are you feeling with all that social media attention? Did the fact that your private life isn’t so private, catch up to you yet?”

“Nice try.” The teen switched her phone off. “My mom is considered one of the hottest female football players, and most of my friends growing up were women’s football fans. Let’s just say that your friends swooning over your mother, is both hilarious and traumatising.” Keira jumped over the back of the couch and sat next to her girlfriend’s daughter.

“Can’t blame them for appreciating how hot she is.” Ava smacked Keira’s shoulder and the redhead pretended it hurt her. “Okay, okay!” she laughed “What was that post about? I saw your face.”

Ava unlocked her phone to show Keira the post she was reading. “Wow, they’re attentive. I’ve lived with you for like half of your life and didn’t notice that you have the same facial bone structure as her.”

“Most people assume I’m her cousin. Some had the right idea, but quickly disputed it, saying that there’s no way she had me at 15 and managed to go pro a year later. Some people even found some pictures of her with little me.” She scrolled a few posts down, where the post had a picture of the 2009 University of North Carolina soccer team, with little Ava on Tobin’s shoulders. “No idea how they found it and connected the dots that it’s me."

“Some of those people should work for the FBI.” Keira laughed.

“Who should work for the FBI?” Asked Lucy, coming out from the kitchen into the living area, with two cups of tea. Ona walked behind her, focused on not spilling the tea, from her own two cups, that were filled to the brim.

“Some of the fans found some pictures from your UNC days and connected the dots, that the little kid in them is Ava. They’re trying to figure out your connection and some of them are scarily good at it.” Keira explained while the teenager showed them the post on her phone as proof.

With her other hand, Ava took the big cup of tea, that Lucy handed her. She took a sip, gave her phone over to Keira, and stood up to take out their favourite cup coasters from the drawer in the coffee table.

Each of them had their specific coaster.

Keira’s coaster, had a picture of Leah, that she took against her friend’s will. The England captain then gave her the coaster for Christmas, saying that it was so that she would think about her every time she drank tea at home.

Ona’s coaster had a Manchester United logo on it and she used it simply to annoy her girlfriends and Ava. When Ona moved to Barcelona, Lucy wrote “Is shit” below the club name. Still, at least she was sure no one in this household would ever use her coaster. She considered putting the United logo on other things she preferred to keep to herself and everyone kept stealing. Like her half a liter cup, that she drank tea from.

Lucy’s coaster was a part of a mother’s day gift she got from Ava. It had a picture of 18 year old Lucy, holding 3 year old Ava, thrown over her shoulder. A colourful Comic Sans writing said the classic “Best Mom Ever” in the middle. She had in made with her aunt Sophie’s help when she was 11, and Lucy never stopped using it since she got the gift.

Ava’s coaster had a quote from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It said “Sick of tea? That’s like being sick of breathing!” She had a matching tea cup, that had Uncle Iroh’s face on the other side. The teenager watched the show, from start to end, at least three times, so when she saw the set in a store, she couldn’t resist buying it.

Like always, it took them 15 minutes to decide on the film they would be watching. They settled on rewatching Ocean’s 8, since all of them loved it. The hot cast wasn’t discouraging either.

They situated themselves on the L shaped couch. Lucy and Ona sat next to each other, on the wider but shorter part of the lounge. Ava, laid across the longer part. Her head in Lucy’s lap, her legs on Keira’s knees.

It may have been a great movie, but Ava has seen it multiple times already, so despite Cate Blanchett in suits being on the screen, with her mom’s fingers running through her hair and Keira lazily drawing patterns of her bare legs, she was asleep halfway through it.

When she woke up, she was surprised to find herself in her own bed. It was like nothing changed since she was just 5 years old and Lucy would carry her to bed. She may have not known about the kisses that Lucy left on her forehead, as she tucked her 17 year old daughter, into her bed, but she felt a warm feeling in her chest and knew how much her mom cared about her.

...

Every new signing had to do a media video, to show herself to the fans. So a week after signing her contract, Ava had to come to the training facility an hour before practice started. The media team led her to a seat in front of some cameras, with the training field behind her back.

“So, we asked fans on social media, to leave questions for you.” One of the media people (Ava didn’t remember their name and was too embarrassed to admit it) started. “We chose some that we thought were most appropriate. That alright with you?” They checked, in case the teen wasn’t comfortable with answering questions on camera.

“I’m good.” She was given about ten cards with questions printed on them and smiled. “Vamos!” She laughed and the camera stared rolling.

“Hi! I’m Ava Bronze and this is fan questions!” She claimed in fluent Spanish, looking into the camera.

“First question is from Mila.” She read from the first card. “Hola Mila!” She looked back up at the camera and waved. Then, she looked back down and continued reading. “’What is your favourite food?’ I love that question, cause I love food. I love things like ice cream and oat cookies, but for food I’m actually allowed to eat more of than sweets, my favourite is probably one of the only meals I can actually cook by myself, which are shrimps, with lemon, chili and garlic. We usually eat it on special occasions with my mom. She cooked it for me when she found out I was offered a pro contract.”

“Next one is from Reyna. ‘Who’s your favourite football player and who did you idolise growing up?’ Well, since I’m a striker, my favourite player is Ewa Pajor. She’s incredible and I think she’s the most underrated player. I got to meet her at the previous champions league final and she was super nice, even though she was sad cause they lost. My dream is to one day learn the bicycle kick from her. As for the players I idolised growing up. Well, I’m one of the few people my age who mostly watched women’s football and not the men’s. Another striker, Ellen White was always someone I looked up to. I love Tobin Heath, she’s brilliant on the ball and her style of play is very similar to Barca’s tight spaces technique. I was never interested in defending, but I always admired Lucy Bronze.”

“Jake asks, ‘What are your hobbies outside of football?’. Well Jake, I have so many we could make a separate video about them.” She laughed, but the media team noted it for another time. “First of all, one of my biggest, and most known among friends and family is photography. I love capturing the worlds beauty, without changing anything, just showing it as it is. I love traveling, which is kind of connected with every other hobby. I love hiking, rock climbing, mountain biking and sailing. Also, I listen to music all the time and love going to concerts. All of those hobbies include travel, so does football, so that’s a good thing.” She was about to go to the next question, but looked up to add one thing. “Also, I saw the media team taking notes when I said we could make a video about my hobbies, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing more about them in the future.”

“The next question is from Anya. ‘What do you like about Barca and what’s your favourite club team?’ Well, I have two favourite club teams and one of them is Barca. My mom will kill me for saying that publicly, but my other favourite team is Arsenal. She’s not a fan of red English clubs, especially Manchester United and Arsenal. But I love both Barca and Arsenal for similar reasons. Both clubs have this culture of family in football. Like, both of the teams have players who would never leave their team. Their academies are strong and many players grow up to be culers or gunners. There’s this loyalty that other clubs often don’t have. Like, not only for players but also fans. With other clubs, people are often fans of the footballers that play for them and not as much of the club, but with those two, it’s about more than the football. At least that's my view, even though most clubs have their die hard fan community. It’s a whole culture of those clubs that people love and I think it’s admirable.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the badge on her shirt. “I’ve moved a lot in my childhood, so I never had the opportunity to grow up within one club, but there are people like Alexia and Leah Williamson, who bleed their club’s colours.”

Ava answered all of the questions given to her and as she was at the last one, she noticed a few of her teammates making funny faces at her, telling her that training was about to begin. She laughed at them and looked into the camera.

“I can see some of my teammates telling me to wrap this up. Thank you for the questions, they were all great and I can’t wait to see you all in the crowd soon!” The camera was cut and the media team thanked her and let her go with the other girls.

...

Unlike other girls coming up from the B team, Ava came into the first team in the middle of the season and wasn’t there to replace an injured player. The coaches decided to give her two weeks of getting used to playing with the first team in training before they named her on the game day players list. It's not like she had not ever played in the first team before, but it was her first time as officially the senior player.

Her first match was an away game against Sevilla. She started out on the bench, with her mom sitting next to her.

“Stop kicking the grass. You’ll leave a hole.” Lucy put a hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing nervously.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Ava said, but her mom knew it was just the stress talking and her daughter wasn’t actually feeling sick. “What if I trip over my own legs and embarass myself? It has happened before.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing great in training. Jona wouldn’t have put you on the team list if he didn’t think you were ready.” She smiled and waited for Ava to look at her. “We’ve talked about it. You’ll probably come on in the 75th or 80th minute for Pina. You’ll do what you do best and rock it out there. You’re my daughter, you’ll do great.” Ava laughed at her mother’s ego, but visibly relaxed.

Just like always, the team was doing great. Pina scored in the 18th minute and they went into halftime with a 1-0 lead over Sevilla.

Around the 70th minute, when Caro and Salma were coming in for Vicky and Esmee, Jona told Ava, Lucy, Patri and Bruna to start warming up. While they were running on the sidelines, three minutes after coming in, Caro scored a goal and they ran to celebrate with the rest of the bench. Not even two minutes later, Mario added her name to the scoreline.

The time for them to come on couldn’t come faster and at the same couldn’t come fast enough. As she lined up, Ava was starting to panic. She was lined up in front of Lucy and when the ref showed her number in green, she felt her mom kick her in the ass. “You’ll do great. Just go out there and have fun.”

With that, she hugged Claudia, who ran up to her to leave the field. As she entered the game, the whole stress disappeared. Everything went quiet. She had 10 minutes of game time left and she used it wholly.

It was the 89th minute, when Ava found herself at the good end of a beautiful pass from Patri. Without hesitation she took the ball down to her feet, weaved around the last defender and with all her might, kicked the ball into the top right corner. The goalkeeper tried to save it, flying as high as she could, but she just couldn’t get her fingers on the ball in time.

Before she could even register what happened, she was being lifted in the air by Patri and surrounded by all of her teammates. “That’s my kid!” Lucy’s voice came though the ringing in her ears. When she was put down on the ground, she felt Ona put an arm around her and tap her head. “That’s our wonder kid!” She kissed her on the cheek and ran off, back into her position.

Not much happened after her goal. It was the final minutes, so they just passed the ball between each other, waiting for the final whistle. When it final came, a big smile took over Ava’s face. It was like she was high. Scoring a goal in her first game for the first team, coming out on the field with her mom right behind her. Her mom’s girlfriends out there with them. She was surrounded by family and friends. She couldn’t believe how great it felt to be there.

...

It was an evening game, so they were staying at a hotel in Sevilla. They didn’t even get back to the hotel when Ava got an Instagram notification, that Lucy tagged her in a post. She decided not to look at it, until she was back in her room with Vicky. Her teammates had other plans. “Aww, how cute.” “Look at that little face.” “Ava, you were so cute as a kid, what happened?” Could be heard through the coach and she had to change plans and look at the post.

lucybronze How proud I am to be your mom. It feels like just yesterday I was becoming a teen mom, I look back a second later and you’re already scoring goals for Barcelona’s first team. Where did this time go? So proud of you my baby 🥳

The first picture showed a 2 year old Ava kicking a football into a tiny goal set up in Lucy’s parent’s garden. The next one came from an hour before, taken in the perfect moment, when the ball left her foot and was flying towards the goal. There were a few more pictures of Ava playing football through the years, but the first two were most the important.

Five minutes after Lucy uploaded the post, both Bronze women had to put their phones on do not disturb mode, cause they were constantly vibrating with notifications.

While laying in bed, ready to go to sleep that night, she looked back at her day. She was playing football and scoring goals for the team of her dreams at just 17 years old. She had her mom by her side. The team was wonderful. She grew up surrounded by football players and now, she was one of them. This was her dreams coming true.

[biteyoubiteme]

rosé

yeonjun x fem!reader warnings:🔞!!! tw:stepcest, don't like don't read!, vibrator use, no penetration, mentions of biting/teeth used, panty-fucking, prob forgot some sorry wc: 2.2k an: uuummm so look away I guess I still wont take requests for this kind fic and im not tagging my usual taglist so :p pls don't read if you don't like it

“You have to be joking,” your hand is still caught on the doorknob, frozen in place as you take in the sight of your childhood bedroom. Half the space was covered in boxes, labeled in the sideways handwriting of your step-mother. But everything else was frozen in time as the day you had left for college, frozen as the last holiday you had been back, ugly Christmas sweater thrown at the edge of your bed. Even the lone mattress on the ground from where a cousin had spent the weekend was waiting to be slept in. 

And that is where Yeonjun stood, his chuckle caught between shock and humor. He was holding a half-drunk bottle of rosé, the cap still screwed on the cheap glass. “You're not very good at hiding things,” he shakes the liquid enough to draw your eyes to it. 

“Going through people's things is childish,” you mutter, tossing your bag next to the bed, “shouldn't you be in your own room?” 

It wasn't new to see him around the times that you visited, he lived only a town over, closer than you had stayed when the two of you had dispersed from home. He wanted to stay close to his mom, loved to rub it in your face when you came back that he was the better child. Your parents hadn't gotten married until the last year of high school, too soon for you to really find a connection with your new step-mom in a way that yeonjun had found with your dad. 

“They turned my room into a gym,” he kicked at the boxes littering the space, “they haven't gotten around to clearing out yours but it's going to be the guest room from now on,” 

“No-” you groaned, falling back on your bed, “I don't want a roommate for the weekend, I wanted relaxation,” it's not that you care they are changing things around but it was less appealing to have to know every time you came home you would have to spend it in the same room as any cousin, family member, or, like now, stepbrother.  Some selfish part of you hadn't liked how changed everything had become since the added members in the house had become permanent, your room had stayed yours, and if you had anything left of before it was this. 

“You don't want me around? I'm good company,” you can hear the dip in his voice, the low murmur of it making you shiver. You sit up on your elbows, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Don't take that tone with me,” but it's weak, the both of you know it, testing the line drawn in the sand every time you two had the opportunity. Spending time in such close quarters didn’t help it in the slightest. The two of you had agreed, or you had told him, that you wouldn't push it further than the teasing, and yet… 

Yeonjun’s lip lifts in a smirk, just high enough to show his teeth, calling your bluff. You remember that hazy period in time when the two of you didn't have to keep apart, fumbling kisses shared at a party, hands finding places neither of you wanted to pull away from. It was only a few weeks later when you were told about the engagement, the shock was a bucket of ice water thrown over the two of you. Suddenly flirty glances in class turned to frozen glares and when you moved in that last year together it had felt suffocating. It had been a mix of teenage annoyance and rebellion to avoid him, and you did in the short few months you spent in his company. 

Then you had both gone to college, two separate universities on opposite sides of the city. It had been easy to ignore him but easier still to find it in you to heal the indifference into tolerance. But then you found yourself at a party, the lights low and his smile just like this one now. You couldn't blame drinking, couldn't blame anything except the fact that you wanted to kiss him again, needed to devour him in the way that he had consumed your mind anytime you thought of him. 

You had been the one to stop it before it had gone too far, in the backseat of his car, grinding on him, still chasing his lips even as you said ‘We have to stop’ his soft reply of, ‘We should’ without either of you pulling away. It had been on your mind every time you saw him again, especially now. 

“Fine, but I want a thank you, I found all your contraband that you wouldn't want them to find when cleaning your room out,” he lifted the bottle again, “how long did you have this stashed in the back of your closet?” 

You had forgotten all about the bottle, less so about most things sitting in your closet, drawers, or under the bed. You had moved out your important things, anything left was by mistake or unimportant. “Who cares we are adults, a little rosé is nothing to worry over them finding,” 

“And this?” you didn't know what to expect when he lifted his hand, another lone bottle of some other drink you forgot about was nothing to worry about and yet it wasn't that. There in his hand was a slim vibrator, pink and a foreign sight in his grasp. 

“Yeonjun-” you whisper shouted, the two of you were alone in the house, the bedroom all the way up in the attic space. But it felt like you couldn't scold him loudly, your face flushing, heat spreading all over you. And he chuckled, shoulder shaking as he flicked his finger over the button to turn it on, the soft buzz making you clench your thighs. “Put it away,” 

“Should I? I charged it and it would be a shame not to use it, if even a little bit,” he stalked closer, slow like a prowl, already having his sights set on eating you alive. “And you already look like you want it on you,” you watched the way his eyes flickered down to your thighs, rubbing together as you tried to deny that they were doing so. 

“We said we wouldn't,” you whisper, hands twisting in the sheets as he leans down nose so close to bumping yours, breathing in the same air. 

“We said we shouldn't, that never stopped us before,” the last syllable is pressed right to your upper lip, the ghosting of his mouth like sweet temptation against yours, “and all I could think about since the last time was that we shouldn't have stopped, because now you're all that's ever on my mind and you're never even around to rectify that,” he leans in closer, on hand bracing beside you on the bed while you try to keep even a hairs distance from falling into his trap because once you slipped up and found yourself caught you knew you wouldn't even try to escape. “Just one kiss, please,” 

“Just one-” You couldn't even get the words out before he was on you, pressing his mouth to yours, seeking to consume you. Your hands shot out, pulling on his shirt locking him in place as he fell on top of you hardly even trying to keep his distance but you wouldn't even give him that once his lips were on yours. The two of you worked so well together, every little touch was sending sparks up and down your body. You opened your legs instinctively for him, wanted him to fit against you, slot himself in your personal space even if it was only for the length of one kiss. But that wasn't what it was, this wasn't the simple peck but a feast of pent-up want and need reduced to a single moment as if you hadn't indulged before. 

He was hot and hard, grinding against you until you were gasping into his mouth, sloppy kisses now working down your throat as he nipped at your skin, teeth looking to find every sensitive spot you had. He wanted to devour you even if he shouldn't, and you were no better. It didn't matter if you said just one kiss, the two of you knew what it meant, you had said it before and you had him on the verge of finishing untouched in his jeans but he would finish this time, he wanted to reach that spot with you. 

And you wanted it too, not caring about your previous intentions as soon as he was pressed so close to you. He reached his hand down between you two, vibrator on as he pressed it right against your clothed clit, the vibration muffled with all the fabric and yet you gasped, hips bucking up to meet the sensation. “Oh,” his open-mouthed kisses warm against the skin on your throat, your hands sliding up to his hair, twisting your fingers in the strands. He pulls away for only a second, hands falling to the waistband of your pants, needing to get them off of you. “We can't-” 

“Please- I just wanna see how wet you are for me,” he begs, forehead pressed to yours feeling your nod more than seeing it. He pulls your pants clean off, leaving you in the nearly transparent white panties you have on. Yeonjun groans at the outline of you clear as day as the fabric clings to you. He doesn't hesitate to press the vibrator right back over your clit. You try to snap your thighs closed, the one less layer making it so much harder to not react. 

His free hand comes out to trace over your cunt, fingers circling up and down as you throw your head back, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Now look at that,” he runs one finger between the fabric of your panties and your aching center, the digit coming away slick as he lifts it to his mouth to taste, your brows scrunching together as you try to hold back your whine. It's a drawn-out moan that comes from him, “You taste as good as you look,” he presses the vibrator harder on your clit, “let me fuck you- please-” 

“We shouldn't-” you try but it's caught in your throat when he clicks up the vibration, free hand back to running up and down the outside of your panties. 

“Please,” he whispers like it's ripping him apart, not being able to sink into you when you look this good. He presses his pelvis closer to you, his bulge perfect for your grinding hips to try and find a steady pace on. “Please,” he lets his hips drag along with the word, your lip caught between your teeth as you try not to cry out but it's impossible to deny him, especially when he's promising to not put it in, and you know if you say no he will stop and if you say yes you wouldn't stop him even if he did try to do more. And all you wanted was more. 

You nod, needing more of him, needing to feel something more if anything at all. He pushes his hand into his pants, tugging out his cock, veiny and slick with bubbling precum, wrist working to give it a few loose drags. You're whimpering at the sight, wishing to say to hell with not having him just fuck you into the mattress. And you almost do say ‘fuck it’ the second he presses his tip right to your covered entrance, the slick of your panties only causing him to slip, the length of him rubbing over you. 

“I won't- I won't,” he's screwing his eyes closed, shaking his head as he convinces himself more than he's telling you. Just brushing against you, feeling the vibration hitting right under his tip as he grinds down on you makes it so much worse. Every sound he's making is desperate and whiny, echoing in the room as he presses his free hand into the mattress, keeping you pressed down and in the circle of his arm. He can't control the way his hips move, just chasing the high of wanting to be in you and the feel of you so close and yet so far. 

He tries to press his tip back in, properly fucking into your panties even if there is little give before he's back to slipping and grinding back down on your cunt, clicking up the vibrator until you can feel it sending sparks all over your body, the ache in your belly turning into a blinding light before you tremble, tugging him closer to you as much as you can get. “I'm- I'm cu-” It's only a moment before your orgasm crashes into you, your body trying to pull away from the vibration and yet being stuck in place with the weight of Yeonjun over you.

And he doesn't stop or pull away, whimpering as he jerks, cock twitching right before he's spilling ropes of white all over your stomach, t-shirt a mess of it. It's not until he pulls away the vibrator, clicking it off, that he's stopped the slow dribble of cum from shooting out. 

Both of you are breathing hard, Yeonjun's face now pressing into your neck to try and hide, hips still moving, languid as he softens. “Never again,” you try to say, but both of you know the truth, especially when you're running your fingers through the hair at his sweaty temple. 

“Of course, never again,” he mutters but he's leaning right back in to kiss you. 

taglist for those who asked lol @beomiracles @beombunni and im tagging the wonderful @thetxtdevil bc she is the one who came up with this idea and gifted it to me ily mae thank you so bad-

[writingwithfolklore]

I Cut Out Social Media for 30 Days and It Changed My Life

Okay hefty title, but I mean every word of it.

Over January I followed a book called Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport. I'm sure you've already been lectured to death about how bad technology and social media is for you, so I won't repeat the statistics here. What I will say is that Newport suggests that there are also positives to technology and that abandoning it altogether is not realistic. Instead, he proposes that we define our values, and then use technology to attain them--rather than allowing technology to define what values we should hold.

To do this, Newport suggests a complete "detox" of non-essential technologies for 30 days. That means abstaining from social media, netflix and other streaming services, videogames, etc. But of course still being able to phone loved ones, email for work, and use google maps if you're going somewhere new, etc. In doing this detox, he proposes that we will be able to better understand what values we hold as people, not just as consumers of technology.

He was right.

At first I found it really hard. Right away I noticed that any activity other than doomscrolling and watching endless hours of Youtube took a lot more brain power. I started doing puzzles, reading, writing (a lot!), cooking and baking, and taking many walks with my dog. By the end of the day I'd be fuzzy and exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch my favourite shows. I didn't, but I wanted to.

But then I started to notice my "brain stamina" (I'm sure there's a better term for it but oh well) started to improve. Instead of writing for two hours before getting fuzzy, I could write for four. And then six. And then eight. Slowly, I found myself being able to do more in a day, to focus for longer on one task, and I didn't feel as drained by the end of it. I had a clearer mind, I could remember things a lot better, I was no longer struggling to find really easy words--they just came to me.

This all also resulted in me spending so much more time with my friends and family. I realized that I really valued this time--and that it wasn't something I could replace by hitting 'like' on an instagram post from them. I rediscovered community, passion, and in many ways, humanity.

It was like I was looking at the world in a new way. I started to notice more, be curious about more. I kind of remember being this way as a kid, and I couldn't believe how I had ever let that go. Now, the idea of sitting on my couch and watching hours and hours of Youtube in every moment of my free time feels inconceivable.

However, my 30 days are up, and so Newport suggests setting some rules to reintroduce what technology I believe supports my values. I've decided not to return to Instagram, but that I do value keeping up to date with the gaming community and pop culture, which I do on Youtube. Now, Youtube is something that I watch for a couple hours on weekends, instead of eating up every bit of free time I have. I also value interacting with other writers and the writing community, so I've created a couple hours in my schedule to check Tumblr and my Discord and keep up to date with you guys here.

But now most of my free time is spent reading or writing, or being with my family and friends, and I value that most of all. To demonstrate how much has changed, in the months before my detox, I wrote maybe 2500 words. Since my detox, I've written 40 000. Last year, I read about four books. In just one month during my detox, I read 10.

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in trying for yourself, feel free to reach out to me! I'd love to talk more about my experience and things that worked or didn't work for me. I'd also really recommend the book, it was incredibly helpful in determining what rules were healthy to set and how to get out of technology and then back in with success.

Back to usual content soon :-)

[cloudcountry]

waxing crescent — the realization of love. an oh wow moment.

with leo kurosagi. (for @vivisgoinginsane)

You weren’t naive enough to assume that your curse to die in one year would be the last of your problems in this life, but you didn’t expect the next problem to come so soon.

Leo Kurosagi, a real pain in the ass who just so happened to be utterly obsessed with you, regardless of whether he knew it or not, ended up being that very problem.

How else could he explain away the occasions in which he popped out of nowhere just to bother you, whether you were in Jabberwock helping out with the animals or at a cafe off campus? There was no reason he should be anywhere near you as often as he was with that smug grin stretched across his annoying face.

Every single moment you had to spend with him was like pulling teeth, every time he laughed so cruelly at your misfortune you almost knocked his teeth out. He took pleasure in your anger, always making jabs about how much a brute you were, that no wonder you were so fucking ugly with that scrunched up face of yours, that you’d surely get wrinkles if you kept pouting like that!

Leo Kurosagi was infuriating.

But in his rambling insults about you, you found vulnerability. It was easier to strike back against him when he fumbled for just the slightest second, trying hard to keep his cool. It was so painfully obvious, to you at least, that you’d struck a nerve deep within his heart, and you didn’t stop there.

This is what they call leveling the playing field.

Months pass like this, the two of you going at it time and time again, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say Leo liked the chase. He likes the thrill of finally being bitten back—what a sick bastard he was!

So why were you seeking him out as well? Why were you also finding enjoyment in his company now? Why was Sho rolling his eyes at the two of you and telling you to stop flirting, to find a different place to get cozy because it’s weird to do that in public—

Nothing was different, surely. Everything was still the same as it had always been. After all, Leo was still calling you an idiot, and complaining about how incompetence you were, and—surely he still called you ugly, right? Of course. You must have just missed it.

But his behavior changes. And it changes in such a way that his smiles and sharp laughs leave you reeling, in such a different way than they ever did before.

It changes as he shoves himself between you and Sho sitting on the couch, pushing the two of you farther apart with a slightly strained smile on his face.

It changes as he grabs your hand and yanks you away from Kaito and Luca as your friend hollers at him and the other gazes on at the scene, confused.

It changes as he texts you good morning in such a passive aggressive way it almost makes you laugh.

And it changes.

And it changes.

And the way you see him changes, too.

“You know, Leo, you're not so bad when you’re not projecting your insecurities onto everyone.” you muse out loud, curled up next to him on the couch.

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about projecting.” he shoots back, holding his phone between the two of you so you can watch silly internet videos together.

And when you look up at him and stick your tongue out, he looks radiant.