#maybe one day i’ll draw hugs better

[artsymeeshee]

Been having major Stan twins feels and needed to draw out an idea I got out. I just feel like deep regrets and feelings will come out of nowhere for both and get overwhelming, sometimes they need each other’s company

[charliemwrites]

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

No Content Warnings

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

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Masterlist

[greengoblinswifey]

we desperately need more sub!nicholas please like not even inexperienced just maybe you punishing him (sexually) for staying out late or flirting with another girl in front of you 😁

summary— you punish nicholas for coming home late in the best way possible.

warnings— pure smut, sub!nicholas, bondage, hand job, degradation, praise kink, edging, overstimulation, face sitting, gagging, use of sex toys, protected sex.

a/n— i love dom!nicholas but sub!nicholas awakens something in me🤭

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It had started earlier in the day, when he mentioned he had an interview scheduled with his female co-star for GQ. Of course, you’d played it cool, brushing off that familiar pang of irritation you always felt when he worked closely with women in the industry. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, you trusted him. Nicholas had never given you a reason not to. He was as sweet as they came, always coming home to you with stories of his day, his eyes lighting up like a kid showing off a drawing they made. He adored you, and you knew that.

But you also knew how these things could go. The media was relentless, pairing him with every beautiful actress he worked with, spinning stories of secret romances and undeniable chemistry. You’d roll your eyes when you saw the headlines, but deep down, it always left a bitter taste. You hated how they tried to chip away at the image of your Nicholas, the loyal, goofy, golden boy who brought you coffee in bed and left love notes on the bathroom mirror.

Still, you’d let it go this morning. It was part of the job, you reminded yourself. Nicholas had kissed you on the forehead before he left, promising he’d be back by evening. “I’ll order you take out and we can watch a movie,” grinning like the whole world started and ended with you.

But evening came and went, and your sweet Nicholas was nowhere to be found.

At first, you’d been concerned. This wasn’t like him, he always checked in, even if he was running late. But as the hours ticked by with no texts or calls, concern gave way to frustration. You checked your phone repeatedly, half-expecting it to buzz with an explanation, but it remained silent.

By the time the clock struck midnight, your patience had worn thin. He’d better have a damn good excuse, you thought, sitting on the bed in nothing but your lingerie. You weren’t usually one to go full dominatrix, to an extent, yes, but tonight? Oh, tonight Nicholas was going to learn that you weren’t someone to take lightly.

Nicholas knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the house. The stillness in the air was off, almost as if it had been waiting for him to walk through the door. He dropped his bag near the entrance and hesitated before heading toward the bedroom, his heart hammering. He already knew you’d be upset—of course, you would. He’d said he’d be home hours ago, and not even a text had been sent to you. That wasn’t like him, and he knew better than to leave you hanging.

As he pushed the bedroom door open, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but a black lace set of lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated your skin, and his eyes darted to the items laid beside you—a roll of tape and a pair of handcuffs. Nicholas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he realized just how much trouble he was in.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice dripping with controlled irritation.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and then at you. “Uh, it’s—“

You cut him off sharply. “I didn’t ask what time it was. What time you were supposed to be home?”

“Seven,” he mumbled, his voice sheepish. He looked like a boy caught sneaking out past curfew.

“And what time is it now?” you asked, tilting your head as if daring him to lie.

“M- midnight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He already knew where this was headed.

“And why the fuck,” you began, your tone firm and unyielding, "are you just now walking through the door?"

He stuttered, fumbling for an explanation. “I—I lost track of time. There was an after-party, and, uh”

“I don’t give a fuck about your after-party,” you snapped, rising from the bed. Your presence was commanding, and Nicholas froze as you walked toward him. “You think you can just waltz in here hours late without a text or a call and everything will be fine? Do you know how worried I was? And did you forget my rules?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in desperation. “I really didn’t mean to—“

“Save it,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t get to apologize and think that fixes it. You’re getting punished tonight.”

Nicholas’ eyes widened, flicking nervously to the handcuffs on the bed. He wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified—or maybe both. “Punished?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you said simply, stepping closer until you were inches away from him. “You need to learn to respect my time. Do you understand me?”

He nodded quickly, his golden retriever-like obedience shining through even now. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” you said, your lips curving into a wicked smile. You reached for the tape and handcuffs, holding them up for emphasis. “Now, be a good boy and do exactly as I say.”

Nicholas’ breath hitched, and he gave a slight, nervous chuckle. “You’re really mad, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He immediately shook his head. “No ma’am. No, you don’t.”

“Then shut up and get on the bed,” you commanded, your voice firm but teasing. He obeyed without hesitation, stripping himself of his clothes, knowing full well he’d walked right into this.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m all yours.”

And tonight, you intended to make sure he remembered that.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking nervously between the handcuffs in your hand and your face, which held an expression he couldn’t quite read. You didn’t give him much time to think about it, though, you pushed him back, flat against the mattress, and before he could say a word, his wrists were locked in place, cuffed to the headboard.

He tugged at the restraints instinctively, testing their strength, but it was no use. His hands were pinned, leaving him completely at your mercy. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling as he looked up at you, his eyes momentarily replaced with something more vulnerable.

“You look scared, Nicholas,” you teased, leaning down just enough to let your hair brush against his flushed face. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little punishment.”

“I— I’m not,” he stammered, though the way his Adam's apple bobbed suggested otherwise.

“Good,” you said, straightening up. “Because the least you can do is make me feel good after keeping me waiting all night. And don’t even think about touching me. You’ve lost that privilege.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he nodded. “Of course. Anything for you.”

You climbed onto the bed, your knees straddling his chest as you moved up, slowly and deliberately. His eyes tracked your every movement, dark with anticipation. By the time you hovered over him, his breaths were coming out in short, uneven bursts.

“Don’t disappoint me, Nicholas,” you said, gripping the headboard for balance as you lowered yourself onto his mouth. His reaction was immediate, a muffled groan that sent a shiver up your spine as his tongue began to work.

He didn’t hesitate, his mouth moving against you like a man starved. The way he devoured you was almost frantic, his tongue lapping and flicking as though he were trying to prove himself worthy of redemption.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding. “You’d better make me cum, or you’re really not going to like what happens next.”

He whimpered in response, a muffled sound that only spurred you on. His efforts grew more fervent, his tongue moving in rhythm as you tightened your grip on the headboard, your knuckles turning white.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice sharp. “You’re supposed to be my good boy, but you’re making me wait to cum.”

His muffled protests only made you smirk, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Finally, the pressure built to a breaking point, and your orgasm overtook you, leaving you breathless as your body trembled. Nicholas slowed down but didn’t stop, his tongue gentle now, coaxing every last ounce of satisfaction from you.

When you finally pulled away, his face was flushed, his lips parted and glistening as he looked up at you. “Was I—was I your good boy?” he asked, his voice hoarse, almost pleading.

You laughed, a short, sharp sound that made him flinch. “You think one good deed is enough to make up for tonight?”

He blinked up at you, unsure whether to answer.

“Nice try,” you said, leaning down to press a finger to his lips.

You moved down his body slowly, watching as his chest rose and fell, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. His arousal was painfully obvious, cock hard, standing at attention, twitching with need. It almost looked unbearable, and the sight made you smirk.

Your fingers grazed the tip, soft and teasing, and he flinched, his whole body tensing as he let out a shaky exhale. His hands strained against the handcuffs, the metal clinking against the bedpost.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice tight, almost breaking. “Please, just—just put it in your mouth.”

You laughed, a low, mocking sound that made his face flush deeper. “Put it in my mouth?” you repeated, tilting your head as though the suggestion was absurd. “You don’t get to demand anything, Nicholas. Have you forgotten where you are right now?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t demanding,” he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in his desperation.

“You’re talking too much,” you said, reaching for the roll of tape on the bed. His eyes widened as he realized your intention, but he didn’t dare protest. The second you placed the tape over his mouth, his muffled whimper made your smile widen. “That’s better.”

You let your fingers trail back down, brushing over his dick with deliberate slowness. His hips jerked involuntarily, a muffled groan escaping through the tape. You wrapped your hand around him, squeezing just enough to make him shiver, and started moving—slow, teasing strokes that barely gave him relief.

It didn’t take long for him to unravel. His breathing hitched, his head pressed back into the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut. His thighs trembled under your touch, and his muffled sounds became more frantic as you worked your hand on his thick cock.

“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” you said, your tone dripping with amusement as you let your thumb brush over the sensitive tip. He twitched under your touch, leaking and red, his body betraying just how badly he needed release.

Nicholas whimpered, his hands thrashing against the restraints, his whole body straining. His muffled noises were growing louder, more desperate, and you could tell he was close. His legs were trembling, his hips lifting slightly as though chasing your hand, and then, you stopped.

His muffled groan was almost a scream as his hips fell back against the bed. His protests were incoherent, his head turning to look at you with wide, pleading eyes. His face was flushed, a deep red spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, and he looked so utterly wrecked that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, sitting back on your heels as he writhed beneath you. “Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?”

He groaned again, his frustration clear even through the tape, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Don’t worry,” you murmured. “We’ve got all night.”

Leaning over to the side table, you retrieved a small vibrator, holding it up for him to see. His eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly, his muffled protests intensifying. You chuckled, running your fingers lightly over the toy, switching it on so it buzzed softly in your hand.

“Oh, don’t act so scared, baby,” you teased, trailing the buzzing tip along his inner thigh. His body jolted at the sensation, a strangled whimper escaping him. “You wanted this. Didn’t you just beg me to make you feel good?”

He shook his head furiously, his muffled words barely audible, and you laughed at his pitiful attempt to escape. “No? Then what’s this?” You let the vibrator skim over his shaft, just for a second, and he groaned loudly, his hips bucking toward the sensation before you pulled it away.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice soft but taunting. “So needy. So desperate. I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already falling apart.”

Nicholas’ legs shook as you teased him, running the vibrator up and down his shaft in the lightest, most maddening touches. His head thrashed against the pillow, muffled groans and high-pitched whimpers spilling out of him. His whole body trembled, his hips involuntarily jerking toward you, but you didn’t give him what he wanted.

“Stay still,” you ordered sharply, and he froze, his body tense as though trying to obey. You rewarded him by pressing the vibrator against the sensitive tip, holding it there for just a moment. His muffled cry was loud, his back arching as his hands clenched into fists above his head.

“You’re such a mess,” you murmured, dragging the toy down to the base and back up again, keeping the pressure light. “So greedy for it. You’d do anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded desperately, his eyes locking onto yours as if begging for mercy. But you weren’t done. Switching the vibrator to a higher setting, you pressed it against him again, keeping your hand steady as he thrashed beneath you.

“Ah, ah,” you cooed, placing a hand on his stomach to hold him down. “No running from me, baby. You wanted this, remember?”

Nicholas’ muffled cries grew louder, his hips grinding helplessly against the toy as you worked him over. His entire body was trembling, his legs shaking violently as he edged closer and closer to release.

And then, just as his body tensed and his muffled whimpers turned to desperate pleas, you pulled the toy away.

The sound he made was almost heartbreaking, a loud, frustrated cry muffled by the tape. His head turned toward you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his expression pure desperation.

“Poor thing,” you said mockingly, trailing your fingers down his thigh as he quivered under your touch. “Did you really think I’d let you finish? You haven’t earned it yet.”

Nicholas let out another muffled groan, his body writhing against the bed as he tugged weakly at the restraints. His voice cracked as he tried to plead, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his jaw. “And you’re going to thank me for it when I’m done.”

Switching the vibrator back on, you pressed it to him again, starting the cycle all over. This time, you added your free hand to the mix, stroking him lightly, alternating between teasing and stopping entirely. His muffled cries turned into broken whimpers, his body trembling violently as you pushed him to the edge again and again, only to deny him every single time.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you murmured, watching as his face flushed a deep red. “Completely at my mercy. Just the way I like you.”

By the time you finally stopped, he was a wreck. His chest heaved, his body glistening with sweat, his eyes glassy and unfocused. You smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tape over his mouth.

Reaching over to the nightstand again, you retrieved another toy, a sleek, silver vibrating wand. His eyes widened at the sight and you switched it on, the low buzz filling the room as you trailed it slowly down his chest, letting it rest against his hip bone before dragging it even lower.

“Look at you,” you teased, holding the wand just above where he wanted it most, his cock. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Is this what you want, baby? Is this what you need?”

He nodded frantically, his hips jerking up in an attempt to get some friction, but you quickly pressed him back down with your hand. “No, stop,” you scolded, a grin spreading across your face. “I’m in control here.”

You moved the wand closer, letting the vibrations graze the sensitive base of his cock. He let out a muffled cry, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body tensed. His hips bucked again, but you kept your hand firm on his stomach, holding him in place as he writhed beneath you.

“You’re so desperate. You wish I’d let you cum, right?”

He nodded again, his eyes glossy with tears as he met your gaze. His muffled pleas were incoherent, but you could feel the desperation radiating from him. You chuckled, dragging the wand back and forth in agonizingly slow motions, keeping him on the edge without letting him cum.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, pressing the wand harder against him for just a moment. His muffled moan was loud, his body arching off the bed as he was on edge. But before he could finish, you pulled it away entirely, laughing softly as he let out a frustrated cry.

“Not yet,” you said sweetly, brushing a strand of hair from his damp forehead.

Tears slipped down his flushed cheeks, his hands pulling uselessly against the cuffs as he begged through the tape. You tilted your head, pretending to consider before reaching for a condom from the nightstand.

“Don’t look so hopeful,” you teased, tearing the foil open. “You’re not getting everything you want. You don’t deserve that.”

His eyes widened as you rolled the condom down over him, and you grinned at his pitiful expression. Usually, you didn’t bother with condoms, letting him feel all of you, but tonight was about punishment.

You climbed onto him, straddling his hips, and his muffled whimper sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you sank down onto him, taking his hard and leaking cock inch by inch. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back as a deep moan rumbled in his chest.

“Eyes on me,” you ordered sharply, and his gaze snapped back to yours, wide and desperate. “I want you to watch. Watch what you can’t touch.”

You set a brutal pace, riding him hard and fast, your hands gripping his chest for balance. His muffled cries grew louder, his body trembling beneath you as he struggled to keep up. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Don’t you fucking dare cum.”

He whimpered, his eyes glistening as he nodded quickly, his entire body shaking with the effort to hold himself back. “Good boy,” you said mockingly, sitting back up and continuing your relentless movements. “I bet you wish you could feel my pussy raw. Don’t you, baby? I bet you wish you could touch me, squeeze me, hold me.”

Nicholas nodded frantically, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as his muffled sobs filled the room. “Pathetic,” you muttered, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder. “You’re so needy. So desperate. It’s almost cute.”

You felt your orgasm building, your movements growing erratic as you chased your own pleasure. When it finally hit, you cried out, your body shaking as you collapsed forward onto his chest. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back as he stared up at you with a mix of awe and desperation.

“You’re so beautiful,” you heard him mumble faintly through the tape, his voice trembling. You laughed softly, brushing his damp hair back as you caught your breath.

“That’s right,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “And you’re lucky I let you have any of me at all.”

Catching your breath, you turned around to face the opposite direction, giving Nicholas a perfect view of your ass. His muffled whimpers grew louder when you started bouncing on him again, the sound of your ass meeting him filling the room. His body was trembling beneath you, his hands pulling helplessly at the handcuffs, and you could hear the muffled desperation in his voice.

“You sound so pathetic,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I bet you wish you could touch me right now. Squeeze my ass the way you love to and slap it. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his eyes wide and filled with tears as you wiggled your hips, grinding down on him just enough to make him cry out behind the tape. “Please!” he begged, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and it only made you grin wider.

“Poor thing,” you mocked, riding him harder now, your nails digging into the bed as you steadied yourself. “You can’t even handle me, can you?”

His muffled groans turned into full-blown sobs as you felt the pressure building inside you. You arched your back, your own moans spilling from your lips as the intensity became too much to hold back. With a sharp cry, you came, your body shuddering violently as you squirted, the sensation leaving you breathless. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body trembled.

“You’ve been such a good little fuck toy for me,” you said, your voice still breathless as you turned to look at him. His cheeks were damp with tears, his eyes pleading as he stared up at you. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

He nodded rapidly, his muffled voice frantic as he tried to answer. Reaching back, you peeled the tape off his mouth, and he gasped for air before the words started spilling out in a rush. “Yes! Yes, please, I’ve learned my lesson! I’ll never be late again, I swear! Please, please, I need to—“

“Shhh,” you interrupted, running your hand over his chest to quiet him. "You’re talking too much again. Beg for it. Show me how much you want it.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he looked up at you with desperation in his eyes. “Please, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll never be late again. I’ll do anything—anything you want. Please let me cum. I need it so bad, please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his words as you kept moving your hips, the pace slow and deliberate now. “Hmm. I guess you’ve been good enough," you said, leaning down just slightly. “You can cum now, baby.”

The moment the words left your mouth, his entire body tensed, and a strangled moan ripped from his throat as he finally let go. He practically exploded into the condom, his orgasm hitting him so hard that tears spilled from his eyes. His head tipped back, his mouth open as he whimpered loudly, his voice breaking as he cried out, “I’m your good boy! Yes, I’m your good boy! Always for you!”

You smiled, brushing your hand over his chest as you eased off of him. “That’s right,” you murmured, watching him tremble beneath you. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. His chest was still heaving, his hair sticking to his damp forehead as he blinked up at you.

“Are you— are you gonna take the handcuffs off now?” he asked, his voice hoarse and trembling.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you stood and stretched. “Oh, I don’t think so,” you said, your tone light and teasing. "You’re staying just like that for a while.”

Before he could protest, you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him cuffed, breathless, and utterly wrecked as he stared at the ceiling, the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears.

[starsstuddedsky]

What? Like It’s Hard?

gn reader x soonyoung

summary: With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, uni au, friends to lovers, opposites attract

warnings: swearing, drinking, food, arguing, a couple sex jokes, one spicy scene at the end but no actual smut, refusal to acknowledge feelings, what's the word for beyond oblivious????

full wc: 24.3k

playlist! - i'm not very good at this but i tried to add songs alternating between yn and soonyoung :)

a/n: hello!! first of all, sorry this so long! it's been a very very busy summer. thank you to everyone who has continued to show interest in the story, it's really kept me going. i honestly have no idea what this is anymore but i hope it does not disappoint :) as always i appreciate feedback of any form <3 thank you again for reading and have a lovely day! finally, happy scoups day :)

a/n2: a special shout out to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta and for helping me fact check... why do i keep writing about lawyers when i know absolutely nothing about the field.......

“Nope.” You grab your backpack, shoving your laptop inside, but he gets to your water bottle before you can reach it. 

“Come on.” Soonyoung pouts his lips. 

“I won’t do it,” you say. 

Soonyoung hugs your water bottle hostage against his chest, dark blue hiding in the crook of his elbow, bright against the pale pink sweater he wears. It’s an unusual choice for him, normally clad in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. Still, the color highlights his new hair, blonde bordering on white. Hardly the first time he’s done something insane for a bet. 

“Please! I’m desperate!” He cries again, stepping closer, though he keeps a firm grip on your water bottle. You never should have told him how emotionally attached you are to it; you should have known it would be held against you. 

“No,” you say. You sling your backpack on, just in case he gets any other ideas. The other students shoot dirty looks at you, actually in the library to study (like you were, until Soonyoung arrived). So you grab him by the arm, rolling your eyes at how he jerks the water bottle out of reach. 

“Walk and talk, we’re not doing this here,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Come on, how hard can it be?” Soonyoung asks. “It’s just a test.”

“Just a test?” You snort. “Soonyoung, you are aware that most people don’t apply to law school on a dare?” 

“I don’t have to get into law school!” He says, “just get a 179 on the LSAT.” 

As if that makes it any better. You eye Soonyoung and his tight grip on the plastic. Maybe it’s a lost cause and you should just swing by the bookstore to get a new one instead. But that water bottle has butterfly stickers that have survived since freshman year and a dent from the time Jun tried to use it as a weapon in a fight against Jihoon (that was declared a draw when the bottle busted open and doused both of them equally); it holds memories better than water and you’ll be damned if you let Soonyoung hold it hostage. 

“That’s actually harder,” you mumble. From the corner of your eye, you can see him tucking the blue bottle under his right arm, farthest from you. This won’t be easy, especially since you saw the poorly disguised thirst trap of him and one of his frat bros at the gym: those arms are not to be underestimated. 

“I’ll pay you!” 

“With what money?” 

Soonyoung pauses. You’ve reached the exit by now, sunlight warming you through the glass doors. He turns to the sunlight, and you know he’s pretending to be a main character from an artsy film (not that he’s ever seen on). He takes a deep breath, as if he already regrets what he has to say next. 

“Okay, I’ll offer you the only services I have.” He turns to face you, eyes on the floor. 

“Oh my god, Soonyoung!” You shove his shoulder. “You are not selling your body for a test!” 

“But it’s all I know!” He says. He pokes your arms. “You could have so much muscle if you lifted just twice a week.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “You meant working out?” 

“What did you think I meant?” 

You feel heat rush into your cheeks. You push the door open, praying Soonyoung doesn’t notice. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, not daring to check if he’s following. “I don’t have time to workout.” 

“Then what do you want?” Soonyoung asks. He stays just out of reach, adjusting his grip so that the water bottle hangs from his hand. “Please, I’ll do anything!” 

“Why do you need me?” 

“Because you’re the smartest person I know,” he says without hesitation. In the three years of your friendship, you’ve learned that the only time Soonyoung isn’t serious is when he flirts. 

“You are,” he insists. “Plus you’ve already taken it, so you’re my best chance. My only chance, it’s not like I have a good track record with tests.” He gives you a lopsided smile as he tries to pretend like he’s joking. But Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You see the sparkle in his eyes dim, and you remember freshman Soonyoung–when he failed the midterm and holed up in his room in the frat house for two full days, not even venturing out to drink. It’s that damn sparkle that gets to you. He isn’t paying attention anymore, water bottle hanging loosely from his hand, but you can’t bring yourself to snatch it. 

“You can pass it,” you say with a sigh. “It’s about studying correctly.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung says. “I’ve never really studied.” 

“Well, that’s what I’ll teach you.” 

Soonyoung freezes, grabbing your arm. “Seriously?” When you turn to face him, his smile is so bright it warms you from the inside out, hotter than the actual sun on your skin. He throws his arms around you, wrapping you in a hug so tight he lifts you off the ground. Your heart does this strange thing where it hops into your throat. Your arms come up as a reflex but his embrace is too tight for you to even hug him back.  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He shouts. He doesn’t let go, even when he sets you back down. He loosens his arms just enough to look at you, the full force of his smile directed at you. “I swear you’re welcome at the frat house any time, I’ll buy you anything you want when I have money, I’ll drive you wherever you want if I can get Seungcheol’s car, I’ll do whatever, just thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

You know you should answer, or say something, but thinking is too much when he’s so close you can smell the strangely sweet combination of laundry detergent, cologne, and sweat. You push out of his arms, snagging your water bottle on the way out. 

“It’s whatever,” you mumble. Though his arms aren’t around you anymore, you feel strangely hot, like your blood is boiling, and your heart still pounds. 

“It is not whatever,” Soonyoung declares. “I swear, whatever you want, I’ll do it.” He holds a hand over his heart and if it was anyone else you’d think they were joking but it’s Soonyoung: he’s deadly serious. 

You can’t handle his gaze anymore, turning to study your beat up sneakers. “Really? You’ll get my first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice from Jun?” 

“I’ll get that book back.” He glances at you. “It is a book, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Though there’s been some good adaptations.” 

“That’s the one with the zombies?” 

“Zombies?” You frown. “Oh my god, do you mean Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?” 

“That’s not the original book?” 

“No,” you say, laughing. “The original is Jane Austen, in the 1800s.” 

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. 

“I’ve actually never seen that one,” you say. “It’s the only adaptation I haven’t seen.” 

“How many movies are there?” 

“Well, there’s the 1940 adaptation, the BBC series that’s widely regarded as the most faithful adaptation, the 2005 Kiera Knightley movie that’s iconic, plus the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a vlog-style Youtube adaptation. Then of course there’s Jane Austen’s other works, like Persuasion, which, the new one, for the record, was a terrible adaptation.” You stop when you realize you’re dangerously close to going on what Jihoon calls ‘an Austen tirade.’ 

“I liked the movie,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know if it was that good, or close to the books. But it was fun.” 

“I’ll have to watch it, then,” you say. “I know it’s the obvious choice, but Pride and Prejudice really is my favorite Jane Austen novel. Good luck getting it back from Jun though. He’s studying abroad this semester.” 

“He’s the friend from your history class?” 

“No, that’s Jihoon, my roommate,” you say. “Jun was in my language class.” 

“I thought you hated everyone in that class.” 

“Oh, I did,” you say. “But Jun is friends with Jihoon, so he sort of just became my friend too.” 

Soonyoung hums, saying nothing else. You don’t recognize the song, though you tend to mostly listen to classical music when you study or whatever Jihoon blasts from his room, so it’s not that surprising. The melody is nice, though. Well, Soonyoung’s voice is. 

“I really am grateful,” Soonyoung says. “I know I was begging, because I don’t think I can do this without you–well, I don’t know if I can do it with you, but you’re my only hope and–I’m rambling again.” He flashes a smile. “The point is, thank you.” 

You shrug, feeling shy under his gaze. “It’ll help me study anyways,” you say. “You learn a lot when you teach.” 

“I thought you already took it?”

“I only got a 150,” you say, sighing. “I need at least a 165.” 

Soonyoung nods, forehead creasing like it always does when he’s lost in thought. “Thank you anyway.”

“Well, you swore to do whatever I tell you,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “Don’t think I won’t abuse that.” 

“Oh, YN,” he says, “I’m counting on it.” He even winks. 

You cough, choking at the outright flirting. Soonyoung hasn’t tried a line on you in so long you thought he’d used them all. He isn’t serious–it was engraved in his DNA the second he became a fully fledged member of Sigma Beta Tau but it’s not like many people flirt with you, so it’s hard to stop your heart from jumping. 

You check your phone, unable to look him in the eyes. It’s 2:18 now, prime naptime if you can get back to your apartment before Jihoon gets back. But if it’s past two, unless he lied to you at the start of the semester, that means Soonyoung should be in his data ethics class. “Hey, don’t you have class right now?” 

Soonyoung glances at the time on his phone. “Shit.” He takes off, sprinting across the grass, dodging three picnics and narrowly avoiding getting rocked in the back of the head by a frisbee. He pauses at the edge, turning back around to wave wildly at you. 

“Thank you!” He shouts. The picnickers glance between you and him and you can feel the blush returning. Soonyoung doesn’t notice all the eyes on him, waving like a goofball one final time before sprinting off again. Like a whirlwind, he’s gone again, leaving you to stroll across campus and wonder what you just signed up for. 

.

.

Soonyoung’s brow furrows into a frown, lips pulling together in a pout. He rests his chin on his hands, looking up at you from the table like a puppy that knows he’s in trouble. “That bad?” 

“Your analytical reasoning was good!” You say, not wanting to destroy him just yet. “The logical analysis wasn’t that bad either, you just need practice.” 

“Wasn’t there a third section?” 

“The score for reading comprehension was pretty bad.” Horrendous, actually, but you can’t tell him that, not when he’s deflating faster than a balloon at a knife throwing contest. He sits back, head knocking lightly against the back of the stiff library chairs. 

“We can work with this! It’s really not that bad,” you say. You reach out instinctively, wrapping your hands over his hands. Your thumb rests against the soft smooth skin of the back of his hand, the rest of your fingers brushing lightly against his calloused fingers. You jerk back when you realize what you’re doing, patting his hands once and grabbing the workbook in front of him as if it’s what you meant to do all along. You study the upside down words, not daring to look at the disgust that’s probably painted on Soonyoung’s face. 

“You can start with practicing the logic problems,” you say, flipping through the work book. “I’ll figure out a strategy for the reading portion.” 

Soonyoung heaves a sigh, sitting up and hunching over the workbook. You flip open one of your old workbooks and try to pretend like you’re not trying to melt away from embarrassment. 

“This isn’t very much teaching,” Soonyoung says without looking up. “Lots of problem solving.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” you say. “I just watched a lot of youtube videos when I was studying last year. I should have known better than to take it over the summer, though.” 

Soonyoung glances up. “How come?” 

You chew on your lip. You’ve known Soonyoung for a while now, but you’ve never talked to him like this, mentioning any real things other than complaining about roommates. Soonyoung would listen, probably say the ‘right’ things, but it’s a study session, so you just say, “Just not good timing.” 

He nods, returning to his humming. You turn to your own workbook, trying to figure out how to get Soonyoung to actually read the passages for the reading comprehension. Twenty minutes pass in an instant and Soonyoung drops his pencil, sliding his journal with the answers back in front of you. You flip to the answer key, scanning between the two. 

“When are you taking it again?” Soonyoung asks while he waits. 

“Just before Halloween,” you say. Exactly 38 days from now, according to the IMPENDING DOOM countdown clock on your phone. 

“That soon?” 

You shrug. “I wanted to give myself time to take it again in case I bomb it and it had to be before midterms, so, yeah.” 

“Is it really that bad to take all your tests at once?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I mean, finals week pretty much kills me every semester. I actually thought I was cutting it close with only two weeks between it and midterms.” 

“Is November cutting it too close?” 

“Depends on when in November you plan on taking it,” you say, “though you probably won’t be able to take it again if you don’t like your score.” 

“Not a problem for me,” Soonyoung says. He doesn’t waver against your raised eyebrow. “I’m getting that 179, first try.” 

“You’re that confident?” 

“In you.” He winks. “Also the bet is off if I don’t get it on the first try.” 

You nod. “Yeah, that makes more sense.” You glance at your calendar. “

“November 18th.” 

“That’s not too bad, you dodged between midterms and finals, there should be plenty of cram time.” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I just scheduled it so that I would get the results before the Christmas party.” 

“I didn’t think you would be the religious type.” 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says. “The frat has this annual post-finals party before people go back home for holiday break, usually on the last day of finals. There’s no way I’m letting Seungkwan get away with my hard earned Playstation, and there’s no way he’d miss the party.” 

“You can’t just buy your own game?” 

“It’s a console actually,” he says, “and that’s not the point.” You prepare for some lecture about honor or frat code or something overly dramatic and inspired by any of the countless war propaganda movies he loves, but he closes his mouth. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” you say. You turn back his sheet, half the answers marked with a dark blue X because red feels too cruel. “You’re clearly committed.” 

He sighs at the answers, flipping back to the first question and frowning. You think the conversation is over, but without looking up from glaring at the right answers, he says, “You should come.” 

“To?” 

“The Christmas party.” 

You stare at the top of his head but he doesn’t seem to notice. You wonder how he manages to keep his hair so blonde without ruining his scalp but you don’t see any dandruff. “Me?” You finally say. 

“You said you’d come, like, freshman year,” he says. “You never did.” 

You did promise, back when you saw him for class every day. But frat parties weren’t your scene back then. They aren’t your scene now. Nothing about blasting music and binge drinking appeals to you, and yet Soonyoung peeking at you from his notebook makes you feel guilty anyways. He looks at you like he really doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go.

And that’s the worst part: for Soonyoung, you would go. When he looks at you with the damn Soonyoung Sparkle, you’d do anything. 

“I’ll… think about it,” you finally say. 

He looks at you for a moment longer, then nods, like he didn’t really expect you to say yes. You try not to feel like you’re letting him down. 

“Can you explain this one to me,” he asks, turning the book so you can see it from across the table. 

You skim the question, which turns out to be a series of questions about stained glass windows. You take a moment to glance between Soonyoung’s answers and the correct ones. 

“Walk me through your process,” you say. 

“Okay, I start with…”

.

. 

“Soonyoung, are you even listening?” 

He blinks at you, lifting his head from his arms. “Something about strategies? For reading?” 

You snap the book shut, shaking your head. You open your mouth, speech on responsibility and studying on the tip of your tongue but one look into Soonyoung’s Sparkle Eyes (patent pending) and all the words are gone. You really need to figure out how to get around that super power. 

“Come on, it’s so nice out,” he says. “We should be outside.” He grabs your hand. “This is not studying weather, this is dating weather.” 

“Soonyoung your test is in two months, you seriously want to skip?” You don’t dignify the second part of his complaint with a response. The idea of Soonyoung on a date makes your stomach flip. 

He sighs. “No, but it’s October, we won’t get many more nice days, so can we at least go outside?” 

You hesitate a heartbeat too long and Soonyoung jumps up. He closes the workbook, knocking loose papers off the table and sending highlighters of every color flying in every direction. The chaos earns a couple side eyes from the people around you and a full on glare from the person directly next to him, but Soonyoung, as Soonyoung as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. He picks up the papers and highlighters, shoving them into his backpack without a folder and slinging it over his shoulder. You can only follow him, grabbing the drinks before he tries to carry them along his laptop. When it comes to Soonyoung, mixing liquids and technology is more dangerous than mixing alcohols. You haven’t forgotten The Coffee Incident, flooding his backpack at 8 in the morning. 

He drags you out of the library, though you don’t put up much of a fight. Soonyoung makes you want to relax, just a little, and when he smiles back at you as soon as he steps out of the sunlight, you find you don’t regret a thing. 

Soonyoung pulls his emergency blanket out of his blanket, passing it to you. He’s more prepared for naps than any class he’s ever taken but the thin fabric is soft so who are you to judge? He heads straight for the quad, which is already filled with people, some groups of friends, too many obvious couples with heads in each other's laps or arms wrapped around each other. Soonyoung settles down in a relatively unpopulated corner, taking the blanket back to shake it out the blanket a few times before laying it flat on the ground. 

Soonyoung groans when you pull out the workbooks as soon as you sit down. “There isn’t anything more fun to study?” 

“Soonyoung, it’s the LSAT,” you say. “It’s not really meant to be fun.” 

“But–” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go outside,” you remind him, tapping his arm with a pen. “If you’re too distracted we’ll have to go back into the library.” 

He gazes at the other people laughing for a long moment before turning to face you again. You raise your eyebrows and he takes the workbook from your hands, flipping it open to the sticky-note bookmark. 

The next twenty minutes are relatively quiet, the only noise coming from the chatter of the people around you, too far away to clearly hear, and Soonyoung humming while working through practice problems. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it, though he bobs his head slightly. You wonder what Soonyoung is like when he isn’t trying to get out of studying–even outside of the party invites you’ve avoided, you rarely see him on campus (because you aren’t on campus when you don’t have to be). You almost went to dinner with him to celebrate passing the business class freshman year where you met him, but you got food poisoning and he never rescheduled. 

It’s for the best, though. Even like this, tutoring him minus payment of any kind, you can tell that spending too much time with him will be dangerous. He flirts so easily it feels genuine, and even though he can be ridiculous, he’s never been anything but lovely to you. And it doesn’t help that he’s hot. He glances up, as if he can feel you staring, but he just flashes a smile at you and ducks his head again. Damn frat bros with endearing charms that melt you like the perfect grilled cheese. 

Perfectly blue without a cloud in sight, the sky is an empty canvas above you. The air is just the right temperature, just between hot and cold, the sun ensuring that it never dips into the latter. Just the slightest breeze kisses your skin, lifting the edges of the papers but never flipping them. Soonyoung was right: the perfect date weather. 

“Soonyoung?” You turn your head to see a dark haired man standing over you. Wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and sides ripped open, you figure there’s a 80% chance he’s one of Soonyoung’s frat brothers. 

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung frowns. 

“You were actually serious?” Seokmin asks, gesturing to the books. “You know Seungkwan said it as a joke, right?” 

“Yeah, but a bet is a bet,” Soonyoung says. “And I really want his Playstation.” 

Seokmin snorts. “You know he only said it because he knows you can’t do it.” 

“I’m not like I’m losing anything by trying.” Soonyoung sets his lips in a sharp line of determination (which you recognize from the dining hall when he sweet talks his way into free cookies). Seokmin raises his eyebrows at his aggression but eventually decides it’s not worth the fight. Instead, he plops down on the blanket, making a little triangle between the three of you. 

“You must be YN,” he says, extending his hand. His easy smile and the way he sat down without waiting for an invitation reminds you of Soonyoung. Unlike the faux blonde, it feels foreign and you shift a little closer to Soonyoung instinctively. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you lie. Seokmin’s eyes curl into little half moons when he smiles, apparently not noticing your awkwardness. You can’t help but feel like he’s intruding as he turns to Soonyoung and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Soonyoung explains it well, though it helps that he was working on the analytical reasoning section. 

It’s because he’s interrupting Soonyoung’s studying. That’s why it bothers you that he’s here, even though Soonyoung doesn’t seem to mind and Seokmin seems genuinely interested. Unfortunately, the revelation doesn’t stop you from wishing Seokmin would just leave.  

“I don’t know how you do any of this,” Seokmin says after Soonyoung explains the next problem. 

“It’s easy!” Soonyoung says. “Half the time the answer is in the question, you just have to know where to look!” 

“Quoting me?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Well I did learn from the best!” 

“So cliche,” you mutter but the compliment gets you smiling anyway. You look up to find Seokmin looking at you. He has a strange look on his face, frowning, but not angrily. He looks a little bit like when Soonyoung can’t decide between the right answer and the second best option. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. 

“What?” 

He pauses a long moment before answering, as if pondering how to answer. Finally, he says, “I like you.” 

You stare at him. Soonyoung had been diligently working on practice problems but his head jerks up at the words. 

“I mean, you’re a cool person,” Seokmin quickly says. “Good tutor for Soonyoung.” After hearing his name, Soonyoung grins and turns back to underlining in the workbook. 

“Tutor?” You say. “I really don’t think I’m doing all that much.” 

Seokmin shrugs. ”I don’t know many people that would spend this much time with someone if they aren't helping. Besides, either way, I’ve never seen Soonyoung this dedicated before.” 

“That’s because you don’t dare to bet against me,” Soonyoung says without looking up. 

“He might have a point there,” you say. Soonyoung takes a moment to smile at your support. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re cool,” Seokmin says. 

“Thank you?” You wait for him to say something else but he sits back and rests his hands behind him, stretching out in the sun a little more. Sighing, he tilts his head toward the sun. 

“Seems like the weather will turn cold soon,” he says. “This might be the last warm day of the year.” He glances at Soonyoung. “And you’re spending it here instead of pre-gaming the Tau party.” 

Soonyoung’s pencil freezes. He peeks up at Seokmin, then at you, then shrugs. “I take my bets seriously.” 

“Whatever,” Seokmin says. He lays back fully, half of his body sticking off the blanket into the grass. “What are the Ke$ha lyrics? ‘The party don’t start ‘til Soonyoung walks in?’” He doesn’t wait for a correction. “I think I’ll wait until you're finished and we’ll tear it up together.” 

Soonyoung glances at you, then unsuccessfully tries to hide his laughter at your expression. You don’t mean to be rude, but Seokmin really just invited himself all on his own and crashed your picnic. Study date. Outdoor study session. The name doesn’t matter, what does matter is it’s only supposed to be you and Soonyoung. 

“He’ll fall asleep in about five seconds,” Soonyoung whispers. “He doesn’t actually care about the party, he just likes my nap blankets.” On that point you can’t really blame Seokmin. 

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your studying,” you say. 

“Right,” Soonyoung says, more to himself than you. “That’s what’s important.” 

You aren’t so oblivious that you miss his bitterness, but you are enough of a coward to decide not to ask about it. How do you even ask about something like that? You can barely answer his questions about the LSAT, so feelings? No chance. 

You flip open your own workbook and set a pencil case down to keep the book open and ignore the soft snores from Seokmin. Soonyoung hums, the soft breeze carrying the gentle tune to you and easing you into a false sense of comfort, planting the idea that it’s always been like this and it always will be. But Soonyoung will take the LSAT in November and you will graduate in the spring and there won’t be any more excuses for seeing him, let alone laying out in the sun with him. Letting yourself enjoy this moment has dangerous consequences for your heart. 

And yet you enjoy the warm sun on your skin and hum along with Soonyoung anyway. Seokmin is right: this kind of day won’t last long. 

.

.

You jump awake at the sound. It takes you a moment to register where you are, to blink the sleep out of your eyes and recognize the stiff library chairs, the yellow tinted lighting of the study rooms on the third floor. Built like a prison cell with no windows and stained linoleum floors, you aren’t entirely sure how you fell asleep. The last thing you remember is working on your essay on Sense and Sensibility, which was rather difficult since you haven’t had the time to finish rereading it. Your book rests on the table next to your open laptop, screen dark. 

A second knock reminds you why you woke up in the first place and you turn to the door. Through the glass door you see a student with a backpack hanging off their shoulder, half smiling. They turn the knob, opening the door just enough to stick their head in. 

“Hey, sorry, I think I have the room scheduled,” they say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say, slamming your laptop shut and shoving everything into your backpack. To their credit, the other student doesn’t rush you, even apologizing and telling you to take your time. But if you’ve lost the room, that means the two hours you had booked the study room for–the two hours you designated for writing the essay and doing problem sets–were spent asleep, which means the LSAT cram schedule has been completely thrown off with only three days before the test. 

You groan as you step into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The farther up, the more intense the quiet levels get. Hopefully it won’t be so quiet that you fall asleep, but since you got a nap, you should be able to power through an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. You brace yourself to check your phone for the time, though being kicked out of the room means you already know your fate. 9:08 means that you have a little less than three hours until the library closes. You’ve done more with less time. 

The first couple desks are occupied by students but you don’t stray, heading for a familiar corner, ignoring the empty desks that line the stacks. Your corner, that you found freshman year during finals season when you couldn’t find an empty desk, is perfect: hidden behind the encyclopedia shelves with a light directly above it, only three dicks carved into it–all on the underside (discovered on a particularly bad day where you found it most comfortable to lay underneath and rethink your entire life). You smile at the small comfort, striding through the stacks with Sense and Sensibility still in your arms. 

You nearly drop the book when you see the backpack, abruptly turning despite the fact that it must have been obvious to whoever stole your corner that you were headed there. You feel rage boiling up and threatening to spill. You close your eyes, reminding yourself that the corner isn’t actually yours. Still, as you settle into a desk facing a giant window that reveals the dark campus, you can’t help but feel bitter. Your thoughts stray to the desk that should be yours, even as you pull out your computer. 

BATTERY LOW

The words light up your screen, mocking you before the screen falls dark again. You dig in your backpack for your charger that you always slip into the main pocket. You feel your underused pencil pouch, the single journal since you keep most of your notes on your laptop, LSAT prep book, your three folders, and no charger. Even when you look inside and lay the entire contents of your backpack on the desk in front of you, the only charger you find is for your phone. Which means the longer laptop cord is probably sitting on your desk, all the way back at your apartment. 

A twenty minute walk back, twenty minutes less for writing your essay. You can start it on your phone, maybe, though the thought of switching between reading the Sparknotes and typing already exhausts you. It’s moot anyways, since all you can do is sit and stare at the desk, covered in the contents of your soul. This is what your life has become: a stack of paper that weighs less than the digital universe on your laptop that’s all contingent on a $15 charger that abandons you when you need it most. 

In the end it isn’t the rage that gets to you. It’s the hilarity of it all, how silly it is that your life is dictated by something so stupid. 

The fifth floor decrees silence, so you make sure that your sobs don’t make a noise. You can’t control the tears but you can hold your breath. When your head starts to feel light and your lungs are desperate for air, you can breathe through your mouth and inhale as slow as you can to keep the shakiness to a minimum. You can do everything you can to hold it together, even when you’re falling apart. 

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You lift your head, ready to face a tired librarian kicking you out but instead you see bleach blonde hair and a forced smile over a furrowed brow. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, glad for the quiet because you don’t trust your voice to support you. 

He holds up a thick, leatherbound book. LSAT for Dummies. “Extra reading couldn’t hurt, right?” 

You blink at him. The only times you’ve seen Soonyoung in the library on his own has been with a thick blanket and closed eyes (it’s how you know he sleeps with his mouth open, just a little). You can’t quite believe he’s in front of you and yet he takes a step closer and doesn’t vanish. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Shhh,” you say, holding your finger to your lips to get him to quiet down, even though there’s no one in sight. “Quiet floor.” 

He nods, looking around as if he’s waiting for someone to kick him out. He turns to look at your desk, the contents of your backpack still strewn about. He tilts his head but doesn’t dare raise his voice to ask. You know he hasn’t missed the tears, still wet on your cheeks. 

You done? He mouths. 

Not even close, you think, but you nod anyways because it’s the easier answer. Soonyoung doesn’t hesitate, gently closing your laptop and sweeping everything into your backpack. You watch as he dumps it all into the biggest pocket, zipping it up and slinging it onto his back. He tucks the law book under his arm and holds out his other hand for you to take. 

“Come on,” he whispers. And you take it, let him pull you out of your chair. The walk to the elevator; out of the library; toward the edge of campus; nothing feels far when Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your hand. You follow him in a daze, clinging to his hand in the off-chance that all your luck rides on him–like if you let go, you’ll lose your tether to this planet. 

Soonyoung rarely walks in silence and today is not an exception. He rambles about the only member of the frat capable of cooking that apparently can’t do anything without creating a giant mess. Even as he complains about the guy, Soonyoung can’t help defending him, explaining in mouth-watering detail how good his food is. 

“One time he crowd sourced some steaks and did a grill for the new pledges and they all thought it was a prank or something and nearly cried when he actually let them eat them. I think they burnt their mouths from eating it too fast, afraid someone was going to take it away from them.” Soonyoung stops at the edge of campus. He glances at you, a question in his eyes. Where are we going? 

“Soonyoung,” you say. Squeezing his hand feels natural. “I don’t really want to go back right now.” 

He nods, squeezing your hand back. “You want to go for a ride?” 

“You have a car?” 

“Nope.” Soonyoung fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a call. You can only hear Soonyoung, who says, “I need a ride,” and “Pick me up by the duck statue,” and then he hangs up. 

The edge of campus that Soonyoung drags you to is right next to the athletic fields, which explains why there is a giant statue of the mascot that towers over you. It has three of its own personal spotlights and shiny claws from fans rubbing them for good luck, despite there being no official tradition. You only went to one game, mostly to confirm you would rather be anywhere else (except maybe the bathroom of the stadium). Either way, the only thing you do know about the statue and mascot for your school is that it is not a duck. 

“That’s a raven.” You point at the statue. 

Soonyoung frowns between you and the hunk of metal. “Oh, Larry?” 

“It has a name?” 

“Well, there’s the official name, which is like, Midnight Rain or something, and the frat name.” 

“And the frat name is Larry?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I didn’t choose it.” 

“And you call it a duck, too?” 

“It looks like a duck.” 

You study the statue. You aren’t an ornithologist, but you’re pretty sure ducks have webbed feet instead of talons, and different beaks. Plus you’ve never seen a pure black duck. But you’ve spent enough time with Soonyoung to know it doesn’t have to make sense when the frat is involved (in fact, you’ve found sense is rarely involved in their decisions). 

“We just call it the duck. Or Larry, when we want to be formal.” Soonyoung jumps at the honk of a horn. You turn around with him to find an obnoxiously red convertible parked against the curb. The driver’s smooth black hair is styled to look effortless, hair falling just above his eyes, and he wears sunglasses despite the fact that the sun went down three hours ago. He might be attractive, if he wasn’t trying so hard. You never thought you had a type, but someone like Soonyoung, who wears clothes that he likes and sticks his hair straight up because he thinks it looks funny–that’s more your style. 

“Here’s our ride,” Soonyoung says. He starts walking, pulling you with him, still holding your hand. You aren’t sure if he even realizes, but you’re in no hurry to remind him. 

“Hey Josh,” he says. 

Driver (Josh, apparently), finally pulls off his sunglasses. “Soonyoung, you have a friend.” 

“I’m YN,” you say, wishing your voice didn’t sound so scratchy from crying. 

 “Oh, I know,” he says, a twinkle in his eye that flirts between danger and fun. “I’m Joshua.” You try not to feel unsettled by it. He raises an eyebrow as Soonyoung slides into the backseat and you sit beside him. “Am I just an Uber to you?” 

“Seungcheol is out and I knew there was no way you would let me drive your car,” Soonyoung says. 

“So, yes?” 

Soonyoung shrugs and laughs at Joshua’s expression. 

“Where are we headed?” He asks with a resigned sigh as if he’s used to Soonyoung’s antics. Has he done this before? You frown. Why does it matter to you if he’s done this with someone else? You’re so busy with the internal war, you miss Soonyoung’s answer. 

“Seriously?” Joshua asks. “It’s a weeknight.” 

“Like that’s ever been a problem for you.” 

Joshua glances at you. “You’re okay with this?” 

You pause. You don’t actually know where Soonyoung said to go. But it’s Soonyoung, your heart says. You're inclined to agree with it tonight. “Yeah.” 

He shakes his head and mutters something you don’t catch and kicks the car into gear. Before long, you are flying down a two lane road you didn’t even know existed. The wind starts to pick up with the top of the car down, blasting your face. Though your nose is still stuffed from crying, the air fills your lungs, tasting like dead leaves and unnatural warmth courtesy of climate change. For the first time tonight, you can breathe. 

.

.

The clock reads just shy of 1 am by the time the car stops. As soon as the rumbling engine cuts out, another noise takes over, drowning everything else out. Crashes too rhythmic to be thunder, the blows softened by tall dunes illuminated by the car’s headlights that Joshua didn’t turn off. 

Soonyoung turns to you with a grin. “Ready to have some fun?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, jumping out of the car instead of opening the door, ignoring Joshua’s shout. He sprints toward the crashing waves. 

Joshua shakes his head, opening his door and ushering you out from the back. He even closes the door behind you, folding his arms over his chest and walking slowly to the beach with you. The headlights cut out but the moon and stars shine enough to see where the boardwalk ends and the sand begins. Soonyoung’s movement gives him away more than any light, running alongside the water and dancing with the tide. 

You clear your throat. The ride cleared your head enough for you to feel properly embarrassed about meeting someone right after sobbing. You shudder to imagine how terrible you looked when he first picked you up, clinging to Soonyoung like he was the only thing keeping you alive. A blush forms just at the thought of it. 

“So, you do this often?” You ask. 

“Do something truly insane because of Soonyoung? All the time.” Joshua laughs. “We don’t usually end up this far away though, and usually someone’s life is in imminent danger.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, watching Soonyoung strip his socks and shoes off and toss them behind him. One sock gets caught in the wind and blows back toward you and Joshua. 

Joshua stops before the two of you can catch up to him. You turn to look at him. It’s difficult to read his expression in the moonlight but he frowns like he’s not sure he should say something. Eventually he says, “I’m going for a walk down the boardwalk.” He glances at Soonyoung, then back at you and smiles. “Have fun with him.” 

You watch him turn around and trudge back up the sand, wondering if all of Soonyoung’s friends are this strange. Maybe it’s just being in a frat. You grab Soonyoung’s sock and set it with his shoes, smiling when he turns around and waves like a maniac. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts over the crashes. 

“You’re soaked!” You shout back. He glances down and apparently finally realizes his shirt is wet, clinging to his shoulders already. He strides back toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. 

“My shoes are not coming off!” You warn him. 

“Just come closer!” He says. “It’s amazing!” You stand with him at the edge of the water, watching it rise in the darkness and draw closer and closer. It crashes on the sand first, a violent move, kicking up wet sand and mixing it with white water. The frothy white water creeps forward, until you have to dance backward. Soonyoung stays in the water, letting it wash around his feet. 

“It feels better like this,” he says. 

“My feet are covered in enough sand,” you say, though he does look like he’s having fun. The water must be freezing this time of the year–it would feel so nice running over your skin. But you’d end up with wet socks and even more sand in your shoes to clean out. 

Soonyoung holds out his hand. “You’d like this.” 

You chew on your lip. Normally you’d laugh in his face and say ‘not a chance.’ But normalcy has never been running three hours away to the beach in the middle of the night when you have class at 9 in the morning. You pull off the sneakers without untying them and pull your socks off, setting them next to Soonyoung’s and joining him at the edge of the water. His hand isn’t out by the time you return but he slips it into yours when you join his side. 

Another wave crashes and you watch the water creep forward, faster than you expect it to be–and you’re right, it’s freezing, but Soonyoung’s right too, it sends an icy shock throughout your body that sends a tingly rush up from your toes to every nerve in your body, setting them on fire. You squeeze his hand and laugh. 

“Good?” He asks.

“I love it.” 

You don’t know how long you stand there, holding onto Soonyoung’s hand and letting the water wash over you. After a few waves, it doesn’t feel cold anymore. You stand until your feet are buried in wet sand, each wave sending you lower and lower. 

“My feet are freezing,” Soonyoung eventually says. 

“Mine, too.” You lift your feet reluctantly, already missing the coarse sand and cold water. You have to let go of Soonyoung’s hand to put on your socks and shoes, shuddering at all the sand in your socks. The cotton became damp from sitting too close to the water, your shoes faring the same. Yet you don’t regret a second of it. 

You stand up and stretch, feeling your spine pop. When you turn back around, you almost scream. You manage to contain it to a gasp, a wheezing Soonyoung’s name. He blinks at you innocently, like he isn’t standing in front of you with his shirt in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” You choke out. 

“We’re at the beach,” he says. “I have to take pictures.” 

“And you need to take off your shirt for that?” 

“Why? Does it bother you?” He smirks. 

Muscles have never been a selling point for you. The “people” you’ve crushed on have all been smart or kind, crushes of intellect rather than bodies. His toned abs, sculpted shoulders, the way his body curves gently as he allows you to stare at him–normally it wouldn’t get to you at all (other than the embarrassment of being this close to a shirtless man for the first time in a long time). But it’s not just the muscles. It’s Soonyoung, your Soonyoung who calls you at four in the morning to tell you about the movie he just finished and is too endearing for you to truly be annoyed at. It’s the Soonyoung that gets lost in the Engineering building even as a senior. It’s the Soonyoung that drags you to the beach in the middle of the night just to make you smile. Yes, it bothers you. No one should be this incredible and hot. 

“No,” you mumble, failing to convince yourself of the lie. 

Soonyoung seems to be done teasing you, dropping his shirt into your hands. He walks a little closer to the waves, apparently not bothered by the chilly ocean breeze. He starts to pose, then raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to take pictures?” 

“Where’s your phone?”

“The camera’s broken,” he says. “Just use yours and you can send them to me.” He continues to pose, flexing his arms as subtly as he can which isn’t particularly subtle (though the muscles are even more impressive in person). You are tempted to reach out and feel the tension, before you realize you are staring again. 

You numb to Soonyoung in this half-dressed state as you take the pictures. The frat must have a professional photographer or something, because Soonyoung knows how to pose. Despite some of the angles and positions seeming awkward, each picture comes out as if from a photoshoot. He only gives you a few instructions on taking pictures, and compliments you way beyond your talents. 

“Just like that!” Soonyoung says, breaking his model face to grin at you. “You’re really good at this.” 

“You can’t even see the pictures,” you say. You bite your lips so you don’t smile. Apparently that doesn’t matter, because he keeps posing. It’s a good thing you just upgraded your phone storage because you estimate at least a thousand pictures are taken for each pose. 

“Are you guys done?” You jump at the voice next to you. Apparently Joshua returned from his walk, sneaking up using the crashing waves as cover. “We should head back soon if you want to make your morning classes.” 

“Definitely want to,” you say. You haven’t gotten any work done, but that’s no excuse to skip class. Soonyoung pouts but doesn’t argue. 

“Perfect!” Joshua claps his hands together. He shoves you toward Soonyoung and grabs your phone. “One more picture together and we’ll go.”

Being at a distance worked perfectly fine but those muscles have you frozen in place again. Soonyoung throws an arm over your shoulders and grins like you do this all the time. His biceps press through your jacket, the flex of the muscle exactly as you imagined it, not that it stops your heart from thundering. 

You can’t help but steal a glance at Soonyoung. Despite feeling like you’ll malfunction at any second, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Soonyoung’s features look soft this close, even the sharp cut of his jawline. You want to study every line of his face, each curve, memorize it until the way his lips slowly curl into a smile is carved into your heart. Spending the rest of your life here doesn’t seem too bad. 

“Let’s go,” Joshua says, breaking whatever magic froze time for you. You are left with cold toes and sand in your sneakers as you march up the dune and back to Joshua’s car. 

“I just cleaned it,” he groans, looking at all the sand you and Soonyoung tracked in. 

You mumble an apology but when you try to offer to clean it for him, he shakes his head. “Nobody touches my baby.” 

You glance at Soonyoung, who followed you into the backseat again. He rolls his eyes at Joshua, smiling in a way that you know means he isn’t serious. You smile back at him and click your seatbelt into place. 

“Address?” Joshua asks, handing you his phone. You punch it in and hand the phone back. 3 hours and sixteen minutes. 

Joshua whistles, seeing the arrival time of 4:53. “Remind me never to do this again.” 

“The beach was your idea,” Soonyoung says. His words slur a little. 

“Just go to sleep already,” Joshua says. The engine rumbles on and he pulls away from the empty boardwalk. 

“‘m not even tired,” Soonyoung says, fighting a yawn. He slouches and leans against the headrest, rolling his head to look at you. “You have class in the morning?” 

“Not until nine.” 

“That’s good.” He doesn’t succeed in fighting the yawn this time. His blinks become longer and longer, eyes closing more than opening. It’s like watching the energizer bunny shut down. 

“Soonyoung?” 

He opens his eyes and you think maybe he’d wait for the rest of his life for you to say something. 

“Thank you.” 

“Always.” He smiles lazily. “I swore I’d do anything.” 

His sworn loyalty. It should be fun, having a boy like him dedicated to fulfilling your wishes. But what would it be like if he wasn’t sworn to you? If he did these kinds of things just because he wants to? 

You didn’t think you were tired but the next thing you know, Soonyoung gently shakes you awake. 

“We’re here,” he says in a quiet, very un-Soonyoung voice. 

You blink at him, trying to figure out why your neck hurts so much, frowning at the unfamiliar surroundings. From the rear view mirror, Joshua watches you. Right, instead of writing your essay, doing the problem sets, or any of the readings, you went to the beach. You wait for the guilt to set in but it doesn’t come. None of the anxieties from earlier in the evening (the technical part of your brain reminds you it was the night before) overwhelm you. 

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Your mouth tastes nasty but before you can say anything, Soonyoung hands you a water bottle. You take a sip before saying thank you. 

Soonyoung unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You nod, grateful you don’t have to ask him. The night has been a full adventure on its own yet you aren’t quite ready for it to be over. At least you aren’t ready to say goodbye to Soonyoung. 

There’s still something you want to tell him. You want to tell him that you like his blonde hair, even though everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous. You want to tell him that you lied earlier, you nearly lost your mind seeing him shirtless. You want to tell him that you feel proud when he gets the right answer on the first try, that you think his concentration frown is cute, that you’ve never enjoyed studying like you do when he’s by your side. You want to tell him that on your worst days, days like today, just being Soonyoung makes it better. 

But you learned a long time ago tired ramblings and drunk confessions are siblings. They both end in heartbreak and twelve packs of ramen. 

So you ride the elevator with him and watch the lights flicker. You never cared when Jihoon brought his friends (well, Jun) over, but the carpets that look dirty no matter how many times they’re cleaned and beige walls are even worse tonight. You can stand to live in a boring apartment, but not a dirty one. 

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to 808. You turn your back on the door, facing Soonyoung instead. He looks radiant under the fluorescent hallway lights, which really isn’t fair. They make his bleach blonde hair look natural, highlight the blemishes on his skin, easy to see when he’s this close. 

You should go inside and he should go back down but neither of you move. For the second time tonight, you are frozen in time with Soonyoung. 

The floor creaks and you jump, turning around at the same time, accidentally knocking into Soonyoung’s chest as you turn to face the noise behind you. Jihoon, gym bag over his shoulder, frowns at you across the hallway. 

“Are you seriously just getting back now?” 

Shit. You never texted him. “Um, Jihoon, this is Soonyoung,” you say. He waves behind you. “Soonyoung, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon folds his arms. “I’ve heard about you.” You glare at him, which he ignores. “You’re taking the LSAT on a dare?” 

“You’re the one that wants to be a music producer?” 

Jihoon raises his eyebrows and looks at you. “You’ve mentioned me?” 

“Only the worst,” you say, smiling at him. 

“I thought you were at the library all night?” Jihoon says. 

“We went on an adventure,” you say. You show him your sandy shoes. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he knows he interrupted something, but the stubborn asshole doesn’t move. 

You turn back to Soonyoung. “Goodnight,” you say, resisting the urge to hug him. 

“It’s morning,” Jihoon says. 

“Goodnight,” Soonyoung says, glancing at Jihoon. He pauses and fidgets with the hem of his shirt but finally gives you a half hug that feels more like a bro hug than anything else. He disappears into the elevator then pops his head out a final time “Send me the photos!” 

You turn to Jihoon. “I forgot to text you.” 

“I figured I’d wait until the morning to call,” he said. “Even if you were kidnapped there’s still a 90% chance you’d figure out a way to show up for class on time.” He turns the key in the lock and strides into the apartment. You’re too tired to argue back, especially when he’s right, so you just follow him into the apartment. 

“I like him,” Jihoon says before you vanish into your room. 

“Should I find you a wedding dress?” You say. “Soonyoung is single.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes and grabs a protein shake from the fridge. “Why do I even bother?” 

You don’t wait for him to leave first, peeling your shoes off in the entryway where you can sweep up the sand and practically fall into your room. It’s race to change into an old t-shirt before you collapse onto your bed. 

You set an alarm for 8:30 and check fifty times to make sure it’s actually set. Then you open your camera roll, shaking your head at the countless pictures. You choose twenty non-blurry ones before your eyes start to droop. You scroll to the bottom and click on the pictures Joshua took. Soonyoung grins for the camera, his easy smile as captivating on your phone as it is in person. You are staring at him, a soft smile on your lips and hearts practically bugging out of your eyes. It’s so ridiculously obvious how you feel. You send him his thirst traps and keep that picture for yourself. 

It takes a week for you to realize Soonyoung never posted the pictures. 

.

.

The weight of the world has the decency to wait until you’re home to fall on your shoulders. You hold your keys up and can’t push it into the lock. If you didn’t do well today, it means the past two months have been a complete waste–all the studying, the assignments you got low grades on because you were studying, the nights you spent at your desk–wasted and doomed to repeat. 

All but the time you spent with Soonyoung. Even if you fail (again), he should at least score decently, and you can’t consider that a complete waste. 

You raise your key to insert it into the lock but the door flies open. Jihoon glares at you, arms folded over his chest. “What the hell is taking you so long, your boyfriend is here.”  

You peer past him and find Soonyoung lounging on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. He sits up when he sees you, grinning and waving. You wonder if he’s been there since you told him you were finished. You make a mental note to get Jihoon his favorite protein shakes. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Me and your boyfriend heard you shaking your keys in front of the door for like twenty minutes,” Jihoon says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, praying Soonyoung didn’t hear either of you. You push past Jihoon, letting him lock the door behind you. Soonyoung jumps off the couch as soon as you drop your bag, almost tackling you in a hug. You pretend not to hear Jihoon’s scoff as he locks himself in his room again. 

“How’d it go?” He asks, squeezing you one more time before letting go. You try not to feel disappointed about it. “I mean, I know you did amazing, but how do you feel? Was the room super hot or super cold? Did the proctor give you the evil eye when you turned in your paper because they were secretly trying to sabotage you?” 

“No?” You frown. “And the room was fine, I felt pretty good about it, but I felt good last time, so I don’t really know, I just really don’t want to take it again.” You sigh. “I know you want to know as many details as possible for your test, but I really, really don’t want to think about it right now.” 

Soonyoung grins and pulls out a package of White Claws and a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag that you just noticed sitting on your coffee table. “That’s perfect because I brought a gift from the whole frat.” 

“That seems pretty on brand,” you say. 

“And a gift from me.” He digs again and pulls out a DVD. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. 

“You’re kidding.” You say. “I think I have to be drunk to watch that.” 

“You don’t have faith in my taste in movies?” Soonyoung asks but he pops open the first drink and slips something shaped concerningly like a knife out of his pocket and stabs the can, chugging it before it can really spill on your carpet. Before you can register what he did, he tosses the empty can on the coffee table, immediately scrambling to straighten it. “Sorry, force of habit.” 

“Soonyoung, I don’t think I can keep up with you,” you say, sitting slowly onto the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m a lightweight,” he says. “I definitely should not have chugged that.” 

“I guess I better catch up,” you say, unscrewing the vodka and pouring a shot in the little paper cups that Soonyoung brought. The acrid scent curls your lip but you knock it back as fast as you can, forcing it down when you miss the back of your throat and it burns your tongue. Soonyoung hands you a can, the lime flavored seltzer pushing the nasty flavor out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m terrible at that,” you say. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “I’m not one to judge. You should have seen me as a pledge.” 

You grin at the mental image of Soonyoung wearing a fake toga made of bedsheets. “I bet you were adorable.” You take another sip of the drink (which tastes significantly worse when you aren’t comparing it to straight vodka) and miss Soonyoung scrambling for words. 

“I can’t drink this,” you declare, setting the can down. You cross the room to the fridge, opening it and studying the contents. Soonyoung follows you, resting his chin on the door and glancing inside. 

“Jihoon does most of the cooking,” you say, feeling self-conscious. Not much populates your fridge, a package of chicken breast and a carton of eggs. A couple containers of take out that are either two days or two weeks old sit in front, and the drawer of fruit that is filled with apples from Jihoon’s mother definitely smells funny. 

“I live in a frat house, this is heaven.” 

You flash him a smile and grab the orange juice, shaking it as you grab a glass from the cabinet (thank god Jihoon did the dishes last night). Soonyoung follows you back to the couch and waits for you to pour a glass and add two shots of vodka. You raise the glass and he takes your rejected White Claw and clinks it. 

“Cheers,” he says, sipping this one instead of chugging it. He sets it down and leans against the armrest so that he can face you. “How did you meet Jihoon, by the way? He seems like a pretty reserved dude.”

“Yeah, sorry if he was short with you, he isn’t half as mean as he pretends to be,” you say. 

“We actually talked a lot.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks about it. “Well, a lot about working out. I think I could turn him into my gym buddy with enough pressure.” 

“I would pay to see that,” you say. Jihoon tried to bring you to the gym exactly once, and you have regretted it ever since. The soreness haunts you, but you think Soonyoung might be one of the few people on the planet that could keep up with him with those arms. 

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Soonyoung says with a giggle. You roll your eyes. 

“You know for a fact that’s not what I meant,” you say, “and to answer your question, we lived in the same dorm freshman year. He was next door, and both our roommates were psychotic, so we ended up trading. We’ve been living together ever since because I’m the only one that can put up with his annoying ass. Also he cooks and keeps me alive during finals.” 

“I can’t believe I was a dorm assignment away from living with you.” Soonyoung shakes his head and pretends to sigh. “Fate isn’t on my side.” 

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” 

“Semantics,” Soonyoung says. He pauses. “Semen-tics.” He starts to laugh and though the joke is far from funny, you find yourself giggling too. 

“You’re drunk,” you say. 

Soonyoung points at you. “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk too.” 

You tilt your head from side to side, trying to think at first but the motion feels nice, toeing the line between dizzying and comfortable. Right, you were checking if you were drunk. You have your answer, but you don’t want to stop spinning just yet. 

“Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Soonyoung asks. You freeze with your head on your right shoulder, frowning at him. “I mean, like, how do you know?” 

“It makes good money,” you say. “Well, corporate law does. Everything going according to plan, I’ll be out of debt before I’m thirty, retiring at 65.” 

“But how do you know that’s what you want?” Soonyoung asks. You wonder if he’s asking you or himself. You think about the first day you met him. 

It was the first day of your sophomore year, 8 in the morning in the worst classroom in the Armhayer Building at the end of a dead end hallway with no windows. The business program had a required career building course and some cruel administrator decided to make the other available class clash with the other required business class for the year, so half the class was people you were stuck with for the full year. Despite its reputation, the business school at the university seemed to only accept idiots. 

You settled for a long semester of biting back your eye rolls and yawning through class, choosing a seat in the front so that at least you won’t have to look at anyone else. And for fifteen minutes, you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Then Soonyoung walked in. 

He was out of breath, telling the professor that he got lost several times and someone gave him the wrong directions. You didn’t really pay attention to him until he dropped into the seat next to you. Fully prepared to give him a side eye and judge him for the rest of the semester, Soonyoung flashed a smile at you and apologized for disrupting you. He was so obviously not your type, yet when his head dropped on your shoulder, you didn’t wake him up. Two classes later when the professor told the class that you would be in a semester-long partner project, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Soonyoung asked you. 

Soonyoung hadn’t ever taken the class seriously, going through the motions and doing the bare minimum for most of the assignments. You never paid any attention to it, but you realize that he never actually told you what he planned to do with his life, always asking you what you planned to do with your copious amounts of money. Now you wonder if it was because he really doesn’t know. 

“I want stability,” you finally say. “This plan is stable. Safe, as long as everything goes according to plan. I guess it’s not as cool as dreaming about being an astronaut or whatever, but it’s what I want.” 

“I think it’s cool. Knowing what you want to do.” Soonyoung says with little enthusiasm. 

“You don’t have any idea?” 

He shrugs. “I have to be smart to do the things I want to do.” 

“You are smart.” 

“You don’t have to pander to me, I’m not looking for your pity.” 

“Soonyoung.” You wait for him to look you in the eyes. “You are smart. This isn’t pity. Sure it takes you a little longer to read things, and you have to work a little harder to answer some questions, but that doesn’t mean you’re not smart. You’re just as capable as me, more capable when it comes to emotional intelligence. Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, someone is always waving to you? I don’t think there’s a single person in this world that doesn’t like you. Don’t downplay how important that is.” 

He chews on his lip and you know he doesn’t believe you. How many people have told him he’s dumb? You want to drag every single one of them here and make them apologize, make them realize how special the boy in front of you is. Eventually he shrugs. “I’ll just end up being an intern, and then I’ll be so charming they’ll promote me without realizing I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll become a CEO that pays people to do the job for me.” 

You smile and shake your head. “We can vacation together in the Bahamas.” 

“Please, that’s where the semi-rich people go,” Soonyoung says, lifting his head from the back of the couch. “We’ll have our own islands and sail past each other.” This time when he smiles, the sparkle glints, just a little. His bleach blonde hair sticks in strange angles from rubbing against the couch, looking a little like a fuzzball. You reach a hand out and pat it down, except the hair is fried from being bleached so many times and almost breaks under your hand. 

When you pull your hand down, Soonyoung is staring at you. Except staring isn’t the right word. He looks at you like no one else ever has, a thousand unsaid words behind his eyes, a language like no other that maybe only you can understand. Those dark eyes, so soft and warm, begging you to drown in them. He’s a siren, luring you in with a song of desire that only you can hear. 

You don’t realize you’ve leaning closer until you fall forward, catching yourself on his chest. Soonyoung’s hand flies to your waist, moving so fast it must have been reflex. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but you don’t get off him. Resisting his eyes from this close is impossible. Soonyoung blinks at you, frozen. It occurs to you that you’re almost kissing him. All you have to do is lean forward, press your lips against his. Would his lips be chapped? Would he kiss you back? Would he make fun of you for being a terrible kisser? You hold your breath, wondering if you are about to find out. 

You jump at the bang of a door slamming shut. You push off Soonyoung’s chest, back to your side of the couch until your back slams against the armrest. The pain is almost enough to sober you up and you realize exactly what you were about to do. You can’t bear to look at Soonyoung staring at you so you look at Jihoon instead, who doesn’t seem to realize that he interrupted anything by walking into the kitchen, headphones blasting music so loud that you can hear it. He grabs one of the takeout containers from the fridge and finally notices you and Soonyoung staring at him. 

“What?” He shouts over his headphones. You shake your head and he stares at you all the way back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make you jump again. 

“We should probably start the movie,” you say, turning to face forward, anywhere but Soonyoung. “I’ll get my laptop.” He doesn’t say anything but you can feel Soonyoung’s eyes on you as you jump up. Ignoring the spinning in your head, you walk to your room. You lean against the door as soon as it shuts behind you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You wish you could blame the idiocy on the alcohol, but you aren’t drunk enough for that. Besides, regardless of the reason, it was a mistake, it would be a mistake, to kiss Soonyoung. No matter how badly you want to do it. 

Your computer sits on your desk. The longer it takes for you to get back, the stranger it will be, so you grab it and return to the couch. Dizziness gives you an excuse to peer at the floor, perfectly valid reason to avoid Soonyoung’s eyes. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” He asks when you insert the DVD into your laptop. 

You raise your eyebrows but still don’t have the courage to face him. “It’s that good?” 

Soonyoung laughs easily, as if nothing happened. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He faces the computer, sitting back against the couch. Other than his red tinted cheeks, you can’t tell he’s drunk at all. You have no idea what you’re in for, he said. He has no idea how right he is. 

.

.

You hold Soonyoung by the shoulders, staring him down. Your eyes begin to water but you hold them open, determined not to lose. Soonyoung squints, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. You just have to hold out a little longer, but your eyes begin to ache and the air pierces into them. 

“Damn!” Soonyoung cries, throwing himself back onto the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. You let go of his shoulders and resist the urge to rub your eyes, settling for blinking as fast as humanly possible. Your eyes burn but you smile anyways, wiping tears away with the back of your hand. 

“How are you so good at that?” Soonyoung asks. He gives into the impulse, hands pressed against his eyes. 

“I’m really not, I think you’re just bad at staring contests,” you say. “Now hurry up, you lost so you have to answer.” 

He sighs as if he didn’t beg you to help him study. With only a day before his test, you’re not sure how much this is really helping, but at least he isn’t partying with the rest of his frat (who do a pre-finals bar crawl, apparently). Instead, Soonyoung is on your couch, again. You try not to think about the last time he was here. Not productive thoughts, especially not when Soonyoung is one day away from taking the most important test of his life. 

“Is it B?” 

“Are you asking or telling?” 

“I hate when you say that.” He peers at the paper, eyes moving slowly as he rereads the line. “No, it’s C! Wait, no, B. No, A!” 

“Pick an answer.” 

He chews on his lip. You have to force yourself to keep your focus on his eyes. “B,” he finally says. 

You’re tempted to drag it out and make him wait but he puts on the Soonyoung Sparkle so you go ahead and nod. 

“I knew it! Trust your gut!” 

“You’re quoting me now.” You pretend to wipe tears from the corner of your eyes. “You’ve grown up so quickly.”  

If it were Jihoon, he’d roll his eyes but Soonyoung perks up, as if you’ve given him a real compliment. He pauses before asking his next question, eyes flickering to the papers separating you from him. 

“You really think I’ll do well?” He asks softly. 

You study him, the way his unnaturally blonde hair has been strategically gelled to stick up in all the right places, the way his plain white t-shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. You wonder what he sees when he looks in the mirror because the way he sits now, waiting for an answer as if you’d actually say no, breaks your heart a little. He really has no idea how brilliant he is, in every sense of the word. You don’t know how to make him see it so you just take his hand and wait for him to look you in the eyes. 

The second the glittering dark irises meet yours, you see the desperation. He tries to smile, to hide the fear but Soonyoung has always been easy to read. You fight the urge to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

“Soonyoung.” You squeeze his hand. What you feel isn’t a passing crush, you’ve known that for a while now. Admitting it doesn’t give you the bravery to do anything except pull the shield of cowardice around your heart a little tighter. “I’d be an idiot if I said I didn’t.” 

He holds your gaze a little longer, until it almost looks like he believes you. Then his eyes light up. “I have a surprise for you!” 

He digs into his backpack, pulling out a blanket (not the one he used when it was still warm enough to sit outside in the grass), a plastic water bottle half-full of bright green liquid, three crumpled flyers for events on campus, and finally, a small rectangular item, carefully wrapped in paper towels. 

“I was a little worried it would get damaged in my backpack,” he says. “I really, really tried to walk gently and didn’t bring it near any coffee.” 

You choose not to point out the unnatural liquid in the plastic water bottle, instead appreciating his efforts to protect whatever your surprise is. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t try. He carefully pulls the paper towels off, revealing a navy blue leather bound book with gilded lettering. Not just any book. 

“You got it back?” You cry. Soonyoung pulls the rest of the paper towels off to reveal the intricate design on the cover, the golden pages, with Pride and Prejudice inscribed on the spine. “My baby!” 

You hover over the book, not wanting to ruin it with the dirt and oils from your hands but so desperately wanting to caress the beautiful book. It’s just as you remember it, down to the tiny dent on the front cover where you accidentally knocked it against a railing. You can’t wait to put it back on your bookshelf where there has been an empty space ever since Jun managed to snag it. You remember Soonyoung is there when you hear his laughter. 

“You like it that much?” 

“Of course,” you say. “It’s my baby.” 

“It’s a book.” But he smiles and you know he’s just teasing. So you figure, why not? 

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His frat-bro instincts must take charge because he doesn’t hesitate to hug you back, pulling you against his chest and squeezing you like he’s the one getting a gift. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“This is my thank you,” he says. You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest, a strange sensation that sends butterflies tumbling around between your stomach and your heart. “It’s the least I could do for you. 

The awkward position isn’t exactly comfortable, twisting your body to face him with your shoulder overtop of his forcing your face into his neck but you don’t want to let go. You give yourself five more thundering heartbeats before you let go, turning to study your book again so you have an excuse to avoid his eyes. 

“How did you get it back?” 

“Same way you lost it,” Soonyoung says. “I made a bet.” 

“On what?” 

Soonyoung shrugs, turning to look at the book that still sits in his lip. He gently places it into yours, using the paper towels to prevent smudging with his fingers. 

You frown. “How? Jun is in another hemisphere.” 

“Don’t underestimate the power of video calls and express shipping,” Soonyoung says. “By the way, I’m wearing your friends down. Pretty soon they’ll like me more than they like you. 

“Oh really?” You raise your eyebrow. You ignore the vole gnawing at your gut whispering that he might just be right. 

“I got Jihoon to go to the gym with me and I got him to admit I was friends with you before he was,” he says, holding a finger out. “Jun says that he wants to meet me the second he returns to the country.” A second finger goes up. “Who else can I add to the list?” 

He’s only joking. He doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, but your skin wants to crawl inside out. The truth is, they are pretty much your only friends. Jihoon, Jun, and Soonyoung, the latter two having wormed their way into your life. My only friends. 

“You’ve got to start going on the offensive,” Soonyoung says. He avoids your eyes and you know he didn’t miss your discomfort. Great, now he pities you. “I’m serious, Seokmin and Joshua have been asking about you, and Seungcheol keeps complaining that he hasn’t met you yet.” 

You snort. “They’re frat bros, they just want more people to party with.” 

“I’m a frat bro,” he says. 

“Yeah, but…” But what? He’s Soonyoung? Once again, you wonder why he is so different to you–why the epitome of frat boy chaos doesn’t repulse you like he should. But he isn’t some one-dimensional steroid-infused party boy, not the type to bully the freshman trying to join just because he can. He gets drunk after two shots and makes his pledges follow him for 24 hours a day as “hazing,” only to take them for a dinner he can’t afford and skips his own classes so they don’t miss theirs. 

He’s not a typical frat boy. But Soonyoung loves his frat, and you can’t find a way to tell him this without making it sound like you are looking down on the rest of the members. 

So you just say, “Isn’t this supposed to be a study session?” 

Soonyoung sighs, pulling the book in front of him and staring at the words. Even though you can see that he isn’t reading, he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Your test is tomorrow,” you say. 

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t pick up the pencil. 

You’ve never struggled to read Soonyoung. He can’t hide when he’s upset, shoulders slumping, a little pout forming over his lips. He doesn’t fully frown but his eyebrows comes together, just a bit. And it’s usually easy to figure out what’s wrong–he’s tired, or wants to be at a party instead of studying. But now? He was fine just a moment ago, even while he was cramming earlier. 

“Is something wrong?” You don’t know why you’re so scared of the answer. 

“I just thought that… nNever mind.” He sighs again. “You’re right, this is a study session. I should be studying.” He doesn’t look at you and you can’t help but feel like you messed up. But Soonyoung eventually picks up his pencil and asks you to check his answers and the feeling slowly fades. 

Will the rest of your feelings fade when you aren’t with him like this anymore? When he takes his test and has no reason to see you every day? Will your heart still beat at the mention of his name? Will you spend the rest of your life thinking about all the almosts with him? Or will it fade until Soonyoung is just a boy that you helped because of a silly bet?

Even as you consider it, you know the answer. He isn’t just a boy, and he never will be. Maybe that’s what really scares you. 

.

.

You glare at Soonyoung. “Do you know what time it is?” 

Jihoon glances at his watch. “7:43.” 

Soonyoung grins beside him, arm over his shoulder. Both boys stand in your bedroom doorway looking far too composed for this ungodly hour. 

“It’s a Saturday.” Just two minutes ago you were in blissful sleep. Okay, maybe not blissful, since you stayed up until three in the morning because you couldn’t fall asleep, and you were having a weird dream where you were looking for something and ended up by the stadium staring at a giant duck statue instead of the raven. But the point is you were asleep until two fists banged on your door so loud you thought it was going to fall apart. 

You can’t even be that mad at Soonyoung, not when he smiles like that. So you glare at Jihoon.

“Honestly, I figured you would be up,” he says. “You were the one that said you didn’t think you were going to get any sleep.” 

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says. “I really just wanted to help distract you for the last hour.” Right. The last hour until your entire future would be determined by a triple digit number. No biggie. 

“Let me get dressed,” you say. They step back before you have the chance to slam the door in their face. You’d like to be able to dress up nicely, but you’re already shivering, so you grab your comfiest sweatpants and the sweatshirt Soonyoung lent you (that still smells like his cologne). You dart into the bathroom and meet the two boys in the doorway of the apartment, pulling on your sneakers. 

You pull the hood over your messy hair and tighten the strings. Soonyoung grins at you and taps your nose. 

“Ready to go?” 

“How did you get out of bed this early?” 

“Oh, I never got in,” he says. “Long story, but we gotta go, they won’t wait much longer.” 

“They?” You ask but Soonyoung doesn’t hear you. He turns to Jihoon, waving. 

“See you tomorrow!” He says, throwing an arm over your shoulders to pull you out the door. “I’ll let you know how it goes!” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” But he looks at you and smiles. “It’ll be fine.” Before you can thank him, he shuts the door. 

Soonyoung doesn’t let go of your side, pulling you to the elevators and squeezing you against him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I should be asleep.” 

Soonyoung smiles, as if your grumpiness is funny. You decide it’s moot since there’s no way you could fall asleep now that you are an hour and seven minutes away from finding out the results of your future. 

“I figured I’d save you from wallowing in worry,” Soonyoung says. “We can do fun things while we wait. I planned out the whole morning, we have options! There’s going to the gym, or for a job around campus, breaking into the science lab and petting the rabbits, going to Barb’s for breakfast–”

“Breakfast,” you say. You aren’t a huge fan of getting in trouble with the college when you have just over a semester before graduation and though you aren’t sure if your stomach will accept food, working out is a guarantee for throwing up. Besides, a hot cup of coffee could clear a little of the fog in your brain. 

“Barb’s it is,” Soonyoung says, practically bouncing on his toes. He really seems to only have two settings, and today he’s at 120%. 

He lets go of your side when the elevator opens and you step to the ground floor of your apartment. You rub your arms and pretend like the chill is from the weather even though the lobby is still warm. He holds the door for you pretending to be a doorman, bowing and gesturing with his arm for you to pass. You turn so that he doesn’t see that the silly gesture made you smile. 

Parked outside is a white jeep that looks larger than normal, and is apparently the asshole that’s been blasting their music for the past ten minutes. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when Soonyoung strides up to the car.  

“I don’t have a car,” he says, belatedly apologetic. The two men in the front seat don’t seem to mind, though you suspect they have been up all night along with Soonyoung as soon as the door opens and you hear their voices singing off-tune over the blasting music. 

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,” The driver cries, using a water bottle as a mic. You recognize Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s descriptions, half from his voice and half from the back of his head. The person riding shotgun is also familiar, a mess of dark hair that must be Joshua. He doesn’t look much different in daylight, sunglasses resting on his forehead. Thankfully they turn the music down a little and stop singing when you get it. 

Seungcheol grins at you through the mirror. “So I finally get to meet the infamous YN. You know, you still haven’t shown up to any parties.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you say, glancing at Soonyoung who focuses a little too much on his seatbelt. 

“Hi, YN,” the passenger up front says, waving at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Joshua,” you say. “Get into life and death scenarios with Soonyoung recently?” 

“Well, Soonyoung jumped out of a car window.” He pauses. “It wasn’t moving,” he adds when Seungcheol jerks his head towards him. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him.” 

“I have done it before,” Soonyoung says solemnly. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is staring at him. “It was a dare.” 

“Why am I not surprised,” Seungcheol grumbles, turning back around and putting the car into drive. Though you were thinking something along the same lines, the way Soonyoung deflates a little makes you wish Seungcheol hadn’t said anything. 

The rest of the drive is quiet–at least in terms of conversation. Seungcheol cranks his stereo up to the loudest setting and blasts the Spice Girls until Joshua starts singing along. Apparently car karaoke for “Wannabe” is sacrilegious to the frat leader. 

You can hear yourself think again when the car pulls into the parking lot and he finally cuts the engine. A few cars line the parking lot of the 24 hour diner that sits on the outskirts of campus. The giant neon red Barb’s that hangs over the entrance flickers in the cloudy morning light teeters the line between quaint and electrical fire waiting to happen. 

The workers, a host and three waitresses, wave at the boys, and do a double take at you. You swear you hear the host whisper “Is that really them?” to Joshua as he leads the group to a table in the corner but Soonyoung distracts you with the menu. 

“I had this thing memorized since freshman year, I can’t believe you’ve never been here. The pancakes are my favorite for hangover cures, not that I’m hungover by the way, I’m actually running on my third energy drink.” He taps the picture, a golden stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes that can only be photoshop. 

“Aren’t energy drinks bad for your heart?” 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Joshua invented this to get through finals, you mix Red Bull, Bang, and Coke and it keeps you up for three days straight. Great for when you’re nervous because you physically have to do something about it.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say. “Wait, why are you nervous?” 

“Your test results come out today,” he says too quickly.  

You consider debating with him but a waitress approaches, wearing a fifties frock and a high ponytail with a ribbon that probably looked like a bow at the start of her shift but has drooped down and now just looks sad. Her face is a mask of emotions, not a smile, not a frown, just emptiness, a contrast to the button clipped to her collar making her “Happy.” 

“The usual?” She asks, pausing at you. She tilts her head and you can see the mask twisting at the edges, a frown almost forming on her brow. She glances at Soonyoung. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Who do you think it is?” Soonyoung asks at the same time that Joshua and Seungcheol say, “Yes.” 

The corner of Happy’s lips turn into a tiny smile that seems to be her equivalent of a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Okay, haha, very funny,” Soonyoung says. “Stop harassing my friend. We’ll order when we have a chance to look at the menu.”  

Happy raises her eyebrow just slightly at the word “friend,” but closes her notepad. She returns to a pastel pink bar where you can clearly see her whispering and gesturing to you. 

“Why do so many people know me?” You mutter, shrinking into the corner of the booth. 

“The thing about Drunk Soonyoung is that he doesn’t really shut up,” Seungcheol says. 

“That’s being gentle,” Joshua says. “One time he spent four hours describing Finding Nemo. That’s longer than the actual movie.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Soonyoung says. 

“The point is,” Seungcheol says, glaring at Joshua, “he tends to talk when he’s drunk. Usually about good things, things that he… Well, things that he likes.” 

You turn your head to look at Soonyoung, who is once again pretending to study the menu. “You like studying for the LSAT that much?” 

Joshua unsuccessfully tries to hide his laugh with a snort while Seungcheol gains slightly more success with a fake cough. Soonyoung doesn’t react at all, staring at the painted flowers on the menu. Eventually, he shrugs. “I’m dedicated to the bet.” He points at a stack of pancakes covered in bananas and chocolate. “That’s what I usually get.” 

“Isn’t against all rules of gym core and muscle building to eat decadent things?” 

“Did you just call working out ‘gym core?’” Seungcheol asks. 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Nope!” Soonyoung says brightly. “And cheat days are a thing, so do you want to split it or not?” 

“You know I can’t say no to bananas and chocolate.” 

“And pancakes!” He waves down the waitress and points to the stack. 

“Ah, the new Soonyoung,” she says. “You guys getting your actual usual?” 

Joshua and Seungcheol nod and she doesn’t bother to write any of it down. Then again she already knows their orders. Except she called Soonyoung’s “new.” Before you can ask what she meant, a shout makes you jump. You turn around to see a stream of boys entering, enough of whom you recognize that you realize at least half the frat has rolled into the diner. The waitresses roll their eyes and groan but somehow they don’t look all that upset. 

“Mr. President!” The tallest boy, Johnny according to Soonyoung’s Instagram tags, holds a fist over his heart and pounds it a couple times. Seungcheol nods and greets each of the boys, most of whom seem to still be in various stages of inebriation. Almost all of them glance at you and whisper to each other, and you get the feeling they know exactly who you are. 

Just what has Soonyoung said about you? 

“How are we doing on time?” One of them calls out. 

“46 minutes,” Joshua says. You frown. 46 minutes… until 9? Do they all know about today? 

You tap Soonyoung on the arm. “What’s going on?” 

“You see, the thing is,” he says, “apparently I was nervous?” He tries to fake a laugh but it sounds strained. “I don’t really know but the guys made me tell them about today and then I didn’t really know what was happening but I guess they followed us here? Thought you might like moral support, or something.” 

You peek out at the booths crowded with frat bros and cringe back into your seat when they grin at you. “They’re all looking at me.” 

“Well, I guess I do talk about you a lot,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. He won’t meet your eyes. 

Ask him why. You want to be brave. You want to be right about the answer you think he’ll give you. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Because of the bet?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a moment. “I guess.” 

Coward. 

“Why are we whispering?” Joshua asks, leaning across Soonyoung towards you. “Are we gossiping?” 

Soonyoung pushes him off. “Butt out.” 

“Just telling Soonyoung that I’ve never had an army of drunk guys rooting for me before,” you say. 

“Could have had it sooner if you came to a party,” Seungcheol says. 

“You really want me at a party that bad? We just met.” 

Seungcheol glances at Soonyoung, who shakes his head. He sighs. “If only I could tell you why you need to come.” 

You frown between the three men. “I don’t like when people talk in circles over me.” 

“Just promise you’ll come to the Christmas party. It’ll all make sense then,” Seungcheol says. You’ve heard a lot about Seungcheol from Soonyoung, and the more you listen to him, the more you believe it. He’s a strange man. 

“I’ll think about making an appearance.” 

“Really?” Soonyoung whips around to face you and you know that you have to come now. You haven’t seen him this excited since you let him skip studying to party. No, he’s even more excited now. “You’ll come?” 

You can’t stand his gaze so you study the placemats. “Maybe.” 

He grabs your hand until you meet his eyes. “Please?” 

The Soonyoung Sparkle. You never win against it. “Fine.” 

“Get a room,” Joshua says behind a very fake cough. You pull your hand back into your lap and pretend like you aren’t embarrassed. 

“How long now?” You shout out.

“40 minutes,” someone answers. You groan and lean back into the sofa. Studying was hard enough but waiting makes you want to pull out each individual hair on your head. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if the stain looks more like a horse or a flower. 

“Look at this.” Soonyoung passes his phone in front of you, forcing you to look down. His Instagram is open to a picture of a kitten looking drunk, face covered in milk. Such and obvious attempt to distract you but you smile anyway. 

“Sweet,” you say and even you aren’t sure if you mean the cat or Soonyoung. He shows you cat pictures until the food finally arrives (33 minutes to go). You have to wait another five minutes because Soonyoung insists on having a photoshoot, despite your protests that you look like you just woke up (he raises his eyebrows at that). You stop fighting when Joshua makes him cut a piece of the pancake and feed it to you. Chocolate nearly drops in your lap but Soonyoung shoots his hand out at the last second and catches it. 

“Okay, can we please just eat,” you say. Joshua and Seungcheol shrug and pretend like they weren’t instigating the pictures and telling you and Soonyoung how to pose. 

Soonyoung was right about the bananas and chocolate. Rich and decadent, they’re delicious. When he cuts you a slice and pushes it toward you, you can even forget the countdown to the end of the world. Or, more accurately, the end of the world doesn’t mean anything to you when Soonyoung smiles at you like that. 

You eat slowly enough to bring you to the ten minute mark. Fear mixes with the dessert for breakfast in your stomach, twisting it until it threatens to jump out of your throat. Soonyoung takes your hand under the table and holds it. You don’t run away this time. 

He holds you to the planet again, keeps you from floating away and disappearing before you can reach the stars. It’s Soonyoung that keeps your heart beating. Always Soonyoung. 

Seungcheol and Joshua chat, Soonyoung piping in a few times, but their words don’t reach you. Stuck somewhere between crushed beneath the weight of the world and floating away, you focus on the clock, watching the seconds tick closer and closer. 

“Last minute!” Someone behind you finally shouts. Soonyoung squeezes your hand. You pull up the website on your phone and put in your login information and hover over the SUBMIT. At thirty seconds, they start shouting it out. 

“Ten!” 

“Nine!” 

“Eight!” 

“Seven!” 

“Six!” 

“Five!” 

“Four!” 

“Three!” 

“Two!” 

“One!” 

Half the guys start cheering already, probably forgetting the count down doesn’t mean as much as the results themselves. You hit SUBMIT and watch the little wheel spin around and around and around until it finally refreshes. The number stares back at you, impossible to read right in front of you. 

169. 

“Congratulations!” Soonyoung shouts, throwing his arms around you and squeezing while you try to comprehend what that means. 169. The number should be all you can think about but Soonyoung holds you, shouting how proud he is, how he always believed in you. 

“169!” Seungcheol shouts, miles away from your bubble. You can hear the guys break out into cheers, hear them chanting the number (which turns into 69) but it’s just you and Soonyoung. The world didn’t end and Soonyoung is still by your side. 

The rest of the morning is a blur. Every member of the frat insists on congratulating you, which mostly means a lot of hugs, though one of the more drunk guys tried to spin you around on his shoulder. You laugh when you’d usually frown and find your way back to Soonyoung’s side like a magnet. 

Maybe it’s the euphoria that gives you courage. 

“Hey Soonyoung?” 

“Hm?” 

You say it before you can think too much. “Maybe just the two of us next time?” 

He grins before you can finish speaking. “I’d love that.” 

.

.

You have the courtesy to let Soonyoung sleep in as much as he wants. You wait for him at Barb’s, trying to figure out how to call this a date. 

You’ve seen him a couple times since you got your score back, but you needed to study for finals and he had to make up for missing a lot of frat activities. You’ve only seen him in passing, nothing to fill the Soonyoung shaped hole in your heart. But today that will change. You will celebrate together and you will tell him how you feel. And then… you have no idea. 

It’s just Soonyoung there’s nothing to be nervous about. Too bad your body doesn’t agree with you. Every nerve stands at attention, jumping at the bell that rings when the door opens. You don’t worry when Soonyoung doesn’t get to Barb’s by 8:30 like he said he would. Even at 8:45, you aren’t worried. 

It’s only at 8:55 that you really start to wonder where he is. Maybe you should have picked him up. Knowing him, there’s a 50% chance he’s lying in a ditch after a failed attempt to recreate an impossible stunt from Fast and Furious. At 9, you call him. Between each silence in the ring, you wait for his voice but it never comes. He uses the automated voicemail, so you don’t even get his voice telling you to leave a message. 

The anxiety turns to fear while you wait. The door rings and you see a fluff of bleach blonde hair and jump up. But though you recognize the face, it isn’t Soonyoung. 

Chan, one of the younger members of the frat, with Mingyu and a guy whose name you forgot. They all have the same look in their eyes when they see you, far too much like pity. 

“You’re YN, right?” Mingyu asks. “You’re supposed to meet Soonyoung?” The two guys with him, easily identifiable as frat members between their unkempt hair and sweatshirts plastered with Greek letters, stop mid conversation and glance at each other. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, still standing in the awkward position in the booth. 

“He’s got his score back,” Mingyu says. 

“We were supposed to–” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu says. “It was a 167. You should really talk to him yourself.” He pauses, glancing at his frat brothers but they shrug. “He’s at the house. See if you can talk some sense into him.” 

You’re too afraid to ask any other questions so you just watch Mingyu and the other two walk past, and pretend that they aren’t whispering and stealing glances at you. 

Going to a frat house was never on your bucket list but your feet travel without guidance. You find yourself in front of a rather nondescript house. No bodies hang out from windows, no one is passed out in the yard. Then again it’s a weekday. 

You pause at the door, wondering if you should knock. You tap your hand on the door and it slides open, the latch bolt pushed completely in. You step inside tentatively, peeking around but it’s quiet. You turn the corner to find an open room and Soonyoung sitting on a couch, glass with a bright liquid in his hand. He doesn’t even look at you. 

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” 

Soonyoung just shrugs, taking another sip from the glass. Even from here you can smell that it’s more tequila than fruit punch. 

You shake your head, crossing the room sitting beside him even though he didn’t invite you to sit down. He was considerably cuter the last time you saw him drunk. You’ve gotten used to the power of Soonyoung’s facial expressions, his smiles, his frowns, the way his eyes glaze over when he’s bored, the way they gleam when he daydreams; they’re as precious to you as Soonyoung himself. But his face is a clean slate now, not a smile, not a frown, just a blank stare. 

“You know a 167 is still insanely good, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Soonyoung.” He doesn’t look at you, so you grab his drink. Any other day and you would have failed miserably but his alcohol-impaired senses make him slow enough for you to get a hand on the half-empty glass. He glares at you but you don’t yield, tightening your grip and pulling the bottle even harder. 

“Let go,” you growl. “Talk to me like a normal human.” 

He shakes his head, pulling on the glass so you yank back, except you overestimate how weak he is like this, and the glass flies out of his hand, the contents spilling all over you. The red liquid sinks into your blue sweater, soaking you through all three layers. 

“What the hell?” Soonyoung says. 

“That gets your fucking attention? Spilling your drink?” You say. “You know, I really thought you were different.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re acting like a child. So you didn’t win the bet. Who fucking cares? Do you know how hard it is to get higher than a 160? Soonyoung, you are smart, and you worked so hard for this. You could go to law school with that score. You could graduate above a 2.3 if you stopped acting like a stereotypical fuck bro and actually studied. 

“You know, you could actually be something if you wanted. You don’t have to get a degree and work at a corporate job that sucks your soul away until the Soonyoung that actually matters is gone. I know it’s easier this way, but if you actually tried to dream, you could do something. I don’t get it, honestly. Because everyone thinks you’re an idiot you act like one? Is that what it is?” 

“You don’t have to pretend like you don’t think the same thing.” 

You snort. “I don’t, but clearly you won’t believe me. You think that if you have to work for something then it’s not worth it when you could be so much more.” 

“Why do you even care?” Soonyoung asks, looking you in the eyes for the first time. For a moment, you think you might actually be wrong, because all you see in his eyes is pain. A physical force that constricts your heart and makes you weak in the knees, Soonyoung looks at you like he’s been fighting a war you never knew about, like he’s been suffering in silence for a lifetime. He looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. 

Why do I care? You could scoff. Because I’ve been in love with you ever since you fell asleep on my shoulder. I’ve been fighting this stupid crush for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. I don’t know who I am without you. I care because every day the world proves that we aren’t worthy of this planet, that love can’t solve all problems yet you make me question it all. You don’t just bring light into my life, you make it glitter. And I can’t tell you any of this. 

“I don’t know.” The lie tastes bitter but it’s still sweeter than rejection.

“Then why are you here?” Soonyoung looks away. Without his eyes pinning you down, you can breathe again, but every inhale still drags against your heart. You stand up. Afterall, you don’t have an answer for him. 

“I take it back. You are an idiot,” you mutter over his head as you walk past him. You make it to the corner of the street before the tears finally spill over your cheeks, and all the way back to your room before you can’t breathe. 

.

.

Without the distraction of finals, you are left with your own thoughts, your words and Soonyoung’s floating around your head. You have always been something of a hermit but you’ve become J.D. Salinger himself, only leaving your room to sneak into the kitchen and scrounge for scraps of junk food that Jihoon hasn’t thrown away yet. You watch so much reality TV that you start to dream about it. 

Every episode the people, a family living on a homestead that just happens to dress in brand name clothes and drive a Benz, fight and cry and make up. You yell at the mother when she forces her daughter to change because she didn’t think polka dots are appropriate and cry along with the daughter when she starts to sniffle in her confessional, wondering if her mother would ever approve of her choices, whether it was clothes or the people she wants to date. 

You bet your confessional would be a hit if it was ever filmed. Tears run down your cheeks as you practice it in the mirror, choking out an apology for calling him an idiot and telling the whole world what you aren’t brave enough to tell him. 

Jun calls but you can’t answer. He leaves three voicemails: an apology, a goofy one telling you he’ll be back soon, and a final one, yelling at you to pick up or at least let him know you’re alive. You text him an apology you don’t know if you mean. He says thank you anyway and doesn’t call again. 

You have no plans to change your schedule (wake up, steal food, cry, sleep) but on the third day you run out of goldfish and can’t find anything in the kitchen that doesn’t make you nauseous. To make matters worse, despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning (the earliest you’ve woken up since the Fight), Jihoon catches you. 

You’ve successfully avoided him and his inevitable lecture, slamming your door shut and ignoring his knocks but he catches you off guard today. He sneaks in from his morning workout wearing a black t-shirt and slides that he somehow manages to walk stealthily in, scaring you when you close the fridge and find him standing where the door was. 

“Are you done hiding?” 

“I’m not hiding,” you mutter. 

He folds his arms. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m not done hiding.” 

“Well too fucking bad,” Jihoon says. You try to step past him but he holds his arm out. You’ll never beat him in a physical fight so you step back, shaking your head. 

“Have it your way. Go ahead.” You wave your hand. “Get it all out. Yell at me or lecture me or whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to tell me that I’m an idiot? That I shouldn’t be so afraid of rejection, that I’m blind to how he feels? 

“Or are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t trust someone like him? That I shouldn’t be crying over a goddamn frat boy, I’m better than this, I’m better than him.” You choke back a sob, not sure what words are coming out anymore. You wipe at the tears in your eyes and are so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t notice Jihoon walking away. You do see him come back, blurry shape coming into focus as you blink away the tears. He holds something in his hand, a navy blue square. A throw pillow from the couch? 

He shifts it in his hand until he holds the corner with the zipper, swinging it a couple times back and forth. Then he yanks his arm back and arcs the pillow in a wide loop, landing directly on your head. 

“Ow!” You cry but Jihoon just swings again, hitting your arm this time. He hits you so hard it knocks you off balance, sending you to the floor. Jihoon doesn’t hesitate, swinging the pillow into you again and again, every inch of you. 

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” He grunts out each word with a blow. “You really think you’re better than him?” 

He finally pauses, not even breathing heavily. You shake your head to answer him. “Of course not.” 

“Good,” he says. Then he hits you again and again and again. 

“Ow, Jihoon, what the hell?” You bury your head in your knees and hold your arms over you, trying in vain to protect yourself. 

“I’m not your babysitter,” he says. “I’m not your father, or your brother, or any of that shit. I’m your best friend and you’re being an idiot and I’m not going to stop hitting you until you get some sense knocked into you.” He freezes, as if realizing exactly what he said. “Wait, no–that’s not what I mean, shit, sorry, but–” 

You peek out from your arms and find Jihoon opening and closing his mouth, trying to figure out what to say. He looks like a fish out of water, and it occurs to you he is a fish out of water. He’s never had to comfort you before, probably never had to comfort anyone. No wonder he’s so bad at it. 

You wouldn’t laugh at him and borderline abuse, but your emotions are beyond fried, and he just looks so funny standing over you with a pillow raised, still sputtering half apologies. You try to stop the laugh before it comes out but it turns into a snort and then you can’t stop laughing, tears that you tried to push back falling freely. You lay back on the floor and laugh until your sides hurt, only vaguely aware of Jihoon laughing above you. Eventually he joins you on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” he says. The pillow rests on the floor between his legs, all the fluff on the far end from the one-sided pillow fight. 

“I knew what you meant without the pillow.” 

“Too bad,” Jihoon says. “I’m tired of listening to the theme song of that god awful show. You could at least watch something like–” 

“I swear if you bring up an anime, you’ll feel exactly how hard that pillow can hit.” 

Jihoon laughs, patting it a couple times. “I saw him the other day. He looked tired.” He pauses but you don’t dare speak. “We didn’t speak. I don’t even think he saw me. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not the one he needs to talk to.” 

“I know,” you say. 

“Then why are you still on the floor?” 

Because you’re scared. Because it would be easier to just give up now, for once to ignore putting in the hard work and just let it pass. But just because it’s the easy option doesn’t mean it’s the right option. At the very least you need to apologize to him. 

“What if he hates me?” 

Jihoon snorts. “Then he’ll get some pillow violence too.” He pauses. “He doesn’t, though.”

“It doesn’t mean that it will turn out okay.�� 

“No, it doesn’t,” Jihoon says. “But no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it. And even if it absolutely sucks in the moment, eventually it will be over, and it sure as hell will be better than that stupid fucking show.” 

You nod, setting your chin on your knees. Your stomach turns in anticipation for what you will have to do, but he’s right. It’s time to stop running. Tonight is the Christmas party, and you were never formally uninvited. Somehow you doubt Seungcheol will throw you out. It’s time to get off the floor and get ready. 

“Have you ever thought of being a life coach?” 

“Hell no.” 

.

.

What am I doing here? You fake a smile at Seungcheol and swallow the shot as fast as you can, grimacing as the vodka burns everything from the inside of your mouth to the depths of your stomach. You should have just stuck to your mixed drink only policy but Soonyoung always has you breaking your rules. Even when he isn’t with you. 

Seungcheol disappears as soon as you take the drink, and you don't see anyone else you are comfortable enough to chat with, though that list is quite short. You do a turn of the house, which looks marginally better than the last time you saw it ,the benefit of bad lighting. It’s already crowded with more people than you’ve ever seen on campus. You make your way through each room on the lower floor, finding more than a couple bleach blondes. None are who you’re looking for. You stop in the living room, where you saw him last. 

“He isn’t here.” You turn at the voice. An unfamiliar boy stands next to you, holding a half-empty Smirnoff Ice. “He went to visit family or something.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “At least that’s what he said.” 

You nod. You find it doesn’t surprise you that he seems to know who you are. You suppose you’ve grown used to it, just one of the side-effects of being close with Soonyoung. Though it’s still strange, it doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore. Or it wouldn’t, if you didn’t think this stranger is implying that it’s your fault Soonyoung isn’t at the ‘Party of the Year.’ 

You can’t stand his gaze so you make your way back towards the drinks, grabbing the first bottle you could find and chugging half of the lukewarm drink. It tastes like a fruit you can’t recognize and carbonation and the more you drink the harder it is to swallow but you force it down. 

You came to apologize. He isn’t here, so why do you stay? Because you promised him? Do you really miss him that much? That you would come here and suffer through all this chaos, just for the memory of him? It doesn’t make any sense but you think that might be a side effect of the alcohol. You get another drink just in case you’re still sober. 

.

.

Your head pounds, the aching feeling of the stage between drunk and sober. Normally you’d like to be sound asleep by now, or at least in the comfort of your home, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It’s hot and sweaty, the music is way too loud, and you can’t find water anywhere, but you stay anyway, because you’re an idiot that fell in love. 

You curl up on the couch, opposite of a couple making out as if the room isn’t full of people, waiting for just a glimpse of him that will never appear. Even drunk, you think it’s pitiful, but you can’t stop. 

You didn’t think you could fall asleep in all the noise but you open your eyes when you feel the world tilt sideways. You’re vaguely aware of the arms underneath your legs and back, cradling you against someone’s chest. No, not just someone. 

Because you aren’t enough of an idiot, you can tell it’s him, his sweet scent, maybe even just his arms. Soonyoung carries you out of the living room and up the stairs, the blaring music fading only slightly. 

“I thought you weren’t here,” you mumble. 

Soonyoung frowns down at you. “You okay?” 

You shake your head, suddenly realizing there are tears in your eyes. No, I’m not okay, I love you, you want to say. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to hug you while still carrying you. 

With your head resting against his chest, you can fully appreciate his beauty. His hair is black, which suits him even though he looks nothing like your Soonyoung anymore. You reach up and trace the lines of his face that are unchanging, the sharp straight line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his nose, his soft eyebrows. You drop your hand when you realize he’s staring at you, belatedly realizing you never got to his lips. You can only imagine how soft they’d be, soft like Soonyoung himself. 

“You’re crying,” Soonyoung says softly. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or not. He pauses in front of a door, struggling to open it without dropping you. Finally the door swings open and he sets you down on a bed, taking a deep breath and sitting beside you. 

He brushes the tears from your eyes, as Soonyoung as ever. Sweet as ever. Sweet and Soonyoung. They should be the same word. You make a mental note to email Merriam-Webster’s dictionary and make the suggestion. 

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just watching you with those perfect eyes. His hand rests on your face even though the tears are long gone, thumb tracing shapes on your cheek. 

“You swore you’d do anything for me,” you say. 

“Anything,” Soonyoung repeats. 

You turn to the walls, knocking his hand off your cheek, not daring to look him in the eyes. Even drunk, you are a coward. He’s put up pictures on his wall, a couple Polaroids but mostly printed pictures, with the frat, some childhood pictures, and one that you recognize. The picture of the two of you at the beach that you thought you didn’t send, where you are looking at him with all the love in your heart. You trace his smile, blinding even in paper form. 

“Could you maybe try loving me back then?” You mumble. Your eyes feel heavy between the alcohol and the tears and you’ve said what you needed to say, so you let them take over, closing your eyes and letting the blasting music from downstairs drown out any thoughts. And because it’s so loud and you’ve already drifted off to sleep, there’s no way you could hear his answer. 

“I already do.” 

.

.

The first thing you do when you wake up is throw up. You make it out of the bed but not to the bathroom, mostly because you don’t actually know where it is. You grab the nearest bucket-shaped item, which happens to be a mostly empty trash can. You lean away as soon as you’re done, breathing through your mouth and looking away from the mess. Belatedly, you realize someone is patting your back, brushing hair out of your face. 

“Better?” Soonyoung asks. His knees rests against your lower back, one hand resting on your back, the other caressing your face. Thank god you already threw up because looking at him makes your stomach twist again and if there was anything in you, it would come up again. If you could throw up your heart, you would. As it is, the organ is trying to climb its way up your throat, whether it’s guilt or heartbreak you don’t know. 

 You nod in answer to his question, letting him help you up. Your head pounds and though you know you won’t throw up again, your stomach flips. Right, your policy of mixed drinks is definitely reinstated after this. 

“Sorry I threw up in your trash can,” you say. 

“Believe me, that is not the worst that trash can has seen,” Soonyoung says. “Wait, that sounds bad, I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean–” He stops himself, shaking his head. “It’s a frat house.” 

“It’s your room,” you say softly. With sober (albeit heavily hungover) eyes, you take in the room again. It’s tiny, one bed pushed against a wall with a desk set right next to it. Unsurprisingly, it’s stacked with protein powder and a pile of frat flyers, laptop balancing off the edge, not a paper in sight. Except for the one next to his bed, the walls are bare, an ugly shade of beige except for a circle filled with white plaster that looks suspiciously like the reformed crime scene of a fist going through drywall. It must be from whoever owned the room before Soonyoung. 

The wall next to his bed is covered in pictures. You remember being amazed by them last night. Your eyes zero in on the picture of the two of you, right next to the pillow that’s still dented from your head. 

“Did I steal your bed?” You frown except the movement hurts your head. 

“I slept in Johnny’s room since he’s decided to disappear off the face of the planet instead of accepting the fact that he graduates next semester,” Soonyoung says. “I actually just came in here for some clothes, which reminds me.” He rummages through a drawer, pulling out a wrinkled t-shirt and handing it to you. “If you want a change.” 

You glance down and feel like throwing up all over again. Your favorite shirt is covered in stains, alcohol, vomit, and something you definitely don’t want to name. If you weren’t feeling so terrible already, you’d cry that Soonyoung is seeing you like this. 

“I’ll get you a toothbrush, too,” he mutters, disappearing and leaving you to scramble to switch shirts. The white dri-fit is meant to be a workout shirt, though it’s clear that it would be oversize on Soonyoung. Either way, the soft fabric is gentle on your skin, much better than the jeans you slept in. Too bad you’re stuck in them until you get back to your apartment. 

You could run away right now. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t be surprised. But he’s being nice to you, so much nicer than you deserve. Sweet and Soonyoung. But you came here to apologize, and though last night got derailed, you can’t keep running from it. Besides, it’s not like the morning can get much worse. 

So when Soonyoung comes back proudly brandishing an unopened toothbrush that he may or may not have stolen from Seungcheol’s bathroom, you accept it gratefully. You stare yourself down in the bathroom, fighting nausea and an impending migraine because you have a mission to achieve, a real mission unlike last night. It’s still a haze, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget how gently Soonyoung cradled you against his chest, the brush of his fingers on your cheek. If he didn’t show up this morning, you’d think it was a dream. 

Soonyoung’s door is open when you finish but he isn’t in his room. You grab your bag from the floor and venture down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. There’s a couple people passed out in the living room, and one person snoring softly in the kitchen, head folded in his arms in a position that must be incredibly painful for his neck. But it’s where you find Soonyoung, digging through the fridge and finally pulling out a water bottle. He hands it to you, along with a bottle of pills. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, not even bothering to check the label for the brand. You take a couple and chug half the bottle, gaslighting yourself into believing that it will instantly revive you (it doesn’t work and your head still pounds). 

“Are you hungry?” Soonyoung asks. He opens the fridge again, this time wide enough to show the shelves that are filled with beer, vodka, and White Claws. There’s a pizza box and some eggs, but not much else. 

“How are any of you alive?” You ask softly, glancing at the snoring person on the counter. 

“Yuta can sleep through an apocalypse, don’t worry about him,” Soonyoung says, waving his hand. He closes the fridge, leaning against it. “And most of us keep our actual food in mini-fridges. I just cleared mine out for break, so I don’t have anything in it.” He doesn’t say anything else about vanishing. 

“I’m pretty sure that pizza has been in there since the start of the semester and I’ve never seen eggs in here before though, so I don’t think you should risk any of this,” Soonyoung says. “McDonald’s fries are a far superior hangover cure, they’ve never failed me.” 

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby?” 

Soonyoung grins, pulling keys out of his pocket and spinning them around his fingers a couple times, except they fly off and clatter on the floor. The man asleep on the counter, Yuta apparently, stirs but doesn’t move. You can’t help but smile as Soonyoung scrambles to retrieve them from the floor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flustered. 

“There isn’t one,” Soonyoung explains, leading the way to the door. “But I have the keys to Seungcheol’s car.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with grand theft auto,” you say, though you don’t stop following him to Seungcheol’s giant white Jeep. 

“He gave me the keys last night when I walked in,” Soonyoung says. “Something about owing me. He was pretty drunk.” He darts around to the passenger side before you can, opening the door for you. He waves his hand when you frown at him, as if you’re the one acting strange. Thinking with this headache is too hard so you just get into the car and strap the seatbelt on. 

“I can’t believe you thought I’d steal a car,” Soonyoung says. He turns the engine on and scans the front of the car before finally settling his right hand on the gear shift. 

“You have driven this car before, right?” 

“Of course,” Soonyoung says a little too fast. You grab onto the door handle and hope that your stomach really is empty. 

Soonyoung’s driving isn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced; that title goes to Jihoon, who was banned from touching car keys after his Mario Kart driving. That said, you think he’s a good second place. He slams on the gas and the brakes too hard and drives altogether too fast. He blasts the radio and sings along purposefully off key. You should be terrified but it’s the most fun you’ve ever had riding in the passenger seat. 

“I’m never riding with you again,” you say, breathless from laughing. He pulls to a stop at the red light, the Golden arches of your destination still one light away. “You know yellow lights mean slow down right?”

“I stopped at this one!” Soonyoung says. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been in an accident.” He pauses. “Since I was nineteen.” 

You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from smiling fully. “That’s what I figured.” You peek at Soonyoung and he’s smiling too. 

So different from the last time you saw him. You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be able to laugh and joke around with him so easily, not when you still haven’t apologized. And Soonyoung shouldn’t be looking at you like that, genuine fondness in his eyes. 

“The light’s green,” you say. His smile fades a little when he turns his head and drives ahead, stepping lightly for once. You’re so close now, but a car going straight in the right lane prevents him from turning. 

The pain medicine must have kicked in because your headache is slowly fading, replaced by heartache that no medication can cure. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You blurt out. 

The blinker beeps a steady rhythm in the empty silence. “Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Nothing’s ever obvious with you, Soonyoung,” you say softly. 

“Oh.” The light turns green and he guides the car slowly into the parking lot, stopping in a spot instead of pulling up to the drive through. As soon as the car is in park, he turns to face you. There’s a crease in his forehead that you recognize from the rare occasions that he would actually talk to you seriously. “YN, I genuinely thought I was being clear about this from the beginning, but if you still really don’t get it, then I’ll say it straight up: I like you. I’ve liked you since the day we met and then I fell in love with you. 

“Did you know you’re the first person that’s ever genuinely believed in me? I mean, I know I have friends, and my family means well, but they always get this look in their eye whenever I talk about trying for things, like it was cute that I was trying, but they never actually believed in me. And I started to believe them too. I started to believe that I couldn’t believe in myself.” He frowns. “That makes no sense. The point is, you are the reason I started to believe in myself again. 

“No one’s ever looked at me like you do. No one’s ever told me to get my shit together–well, they have, but you’re the only one that told me it was because I could be better. 

“You say it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times. I flirted, I tried to ask you on a date so many times, and I finally accepted that you’d never see me like that, so I was a dick. I told you off, even though you were right. I’m so sorry for that, and I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry it took me so long to apologize.” 

“Stop,” you say. Soonyoung’s eyes widen, tears welling up, and you realize he thinks you’re rejecting him. “Stop apologizing!” His brow creases in confusion, an adorable frown. Summoning all your courage, you reach out, resting your hand on his. “I’m the one that’s sorry. I didn’t have any right to judge you and the choices you were making, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you when I knew how much the bet meant to you.”

You squeeze his hand, closing your eyes. “And I think I was a little oblivious on purpose. I’m not the kind of person that has crushes, let alone crushes that like me back, so I freaked a little and missed all the signs.” You open your eyes and grin at him. It’s easy to feel brave when he smiles back at you. “But I like you, Soonyoung. I like you so much, I don’t have enough words to express it. My whole life has been about my future, my career, and it’s exhausting, but being with you makes it all exciting again. Like, no matter what happens, if you’re with me, it won’t just be okay, it’ll be fun.” 

Soonyoung beams. “Really?” 

You squeeze his hand. “I like you.” Like the first time you took the LSAT, you can’t think of a single word, except instead of damning your future this feels like the start of it. Soonyoung sits across from you and you don’t need words. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, but reality sets in when your stomach growls. You glance outside the window and remember where you are. “Did you just confess to me in a McDonald’s parking lot?” 

“Better than drunk in my own bed.” 

“I didn’t!” You let go of his hand to hide your face. 

Soonyoung grins. “You were cute!” 

“I don’t remember it, it doesn't count!” 

“Whatever you say,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the center console. He gently pulls your hands away from your face, hand circling your wrist gently. You instinctively hold your breath, though you don’t lean away. Soonyoung leans a little closer, forehead resting against yours. 

“This okay?” He whispers, breath kissing your lips, and you remember that less than an hour ago, you were throwing up. Your head still aches and your stomach is still queasy and your whole body feels disgusting. 

“We are not having our first kiss in a McDonald’s parking lot,” you say, leaning back. Soonyoung sighs, but he sits back in his chair, settling for grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung says. He rubs his thumb back and forth, and when you meet his eyes, you see a familiar glint of trouble. “You know I’m still sworn to you. Whatever you want.” 

The words go straight to your heart. You could live a thousand lives and never meet someone as genuine as Soonyoung. You know that he means it, heart and soul, that he’d do anything for you. And it should be terrifying that he’s willing to bear his heart for you, that you are willing to do the same. But it’s Soonyoung. It’s easy to trust him with it, because even though he breaks half the computers he touches and can’t hold onto a pencil for his life, he won’t ever drop your heart. 

I love you. One day you’ll be able to say it, one day you’ll scream it like you so desperately want to. But until then, you settle for his certified brilliant smile and the gentle brush of his lips on the back of your hand, only letting go to turn the engine back on. 

“Let’s get you some fries,” he says. “Then kisses?” 

You shake your head and laugh, slipping your hand back into his. 

Before he can put the car into gear, his phone rings. He stares at the screen for a moment, frowning like he can’t decide whether he should answer it or not. Finally he slides the green across, turning on speaker. 

“Hey Seungcheol, I’m with—” 

“Where the hell are you? And where is my car?” Seungcheol’s voice is somewhere between angry and concerned. “You think it’s okay to vanish and then show up only to steal my car?” 

“First of all, you gave me the keys,” Soonyoung says. He glances at you. “And I’m at McDonald’s because YN desperately needed a hangover cure.” 

“Hey,” you say so Seungcheol knows you’re there. 

The line is quiet for so long you think Soonyoung’s phone has finally given up on him but eventually he says, “You’re with YN?” 

“We talked,” he says. “And we’re good.” 

You snort. “That’s how you’re going to describe it?” 

“Are we not good?” 

You glance at your hand still intertwined with his, the Soonyoung Sparkle glittering back at you when you look him in the eyes. Good? There’s not a word to describe how you feel right now. 

“We are beyond good.” 

.

.

“Are you crying?” You whisper. Soonyoung shakes his head, chin brushing against your head but when he inhales again, he sniffles. You reach up to pat his cheek and are entirely unsurprised when it’s wet. On screen Elle Woods continues her speech, for once not wearing pink. 

“She’s just so cool,” Soonyoung says. You lift your head off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. The temptation to tease him is hard to resist but he pouts his lips and you see another tear slip out. You kiss his cheek, out of habit more than anything. Strange how much can change in two weeks, how something you’ve never imagined doing has become natural. But being with Soonyoung is just like that. New and old at the same time, the kind of comfort that has you planning how to make this last a lifetime. 

Soonyoung wraps his arms around you tighter, so you nestle back into his chest, turning away from the end of the movie to close your eyes and breathe in his cologne. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck. “The whole bet was based on a movie you haven’t seen.” 

“You’re missing the end,” he says. His voice rumbles in your ear, drowning out his heartbeat. 

“I’ve seen it before.” Your bed really isn’t built for two people to lay down together. You are laying more on Soonyoung than the mattress but it’s not the first time. From the way he holds you, you doubt it’ll be the last. 

The credits roll too quickly, but Soonyoung still doesn’t let go. He pulls you up so that your head is next to his, nose centimeters away from yours. 

“So am I officially qualified to go to law school?” He asks. 

“You are Elle Woods certified,” you say. “But you’re sure that’s what you want?” 

“I mean I have to get in. But I figure if I’m going to waste away at a desk, I might as well do it for something I believe in.” He pauses. “With someone that believes in me.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, breath tickling the sensitive skin. You can’t help but sigh. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s what you want,” you say, after several heartbeats of struggling to think. 

“I want…” His words “To be with you. However you’ll have me.” His arms loosen, hands sliding down to your waist. 

“Still not answering the question,” you breathe out but you can’t even remember what the question is, not when he’s shifting to lay on top of you, lips inching their way up your neck. He kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, then stops, pulling away and meeting your eyes again.

The Soonyoung Sparkle. The grinch has nothing on you–your heart swells so large it feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest–Alien style. Does he know what he does to you? How he’s made everything in your life shine? How happy you are when he’s with you? 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Soonyoung blinks at you. “You…” 

“I love you,” you say again, this time with more confidence. “I really, really love you.” 

Soonyoung grins, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, moving like the world outside has stopped. He makes a bubble around you again, or maybe it’s your own heart; either way the only thing that exists is the way his hands inch up your shirt, the way his lips begin to press harder against yours. You give up on coherent thoughts, settling for wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers between kisses. “If that wasn’t obvious.” 

Soonyoung who always treated you like you were enough already. Soonyoung who does everything with 100% of his heart. Soonyoung who has always been sincere with you, from the first day you met him. Soonyoung, who you are so lucky to be loved by. 

You don’t know how to say any of this in a way that makes sense so you let his fire melt you until you are putty in his arms. He pulls away, and the Soonyoung Sparkle burns, your personal stars flickering back at you.  

“You want to–” Soonyoung starts to say, but the door slams open. Then Soonyoung falls on you, pillow rolling off his head. 

“I’m taking this back!” Someone shouts while you hear Jihoon cursing. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Soonyoung pushes off of you, sitting up and pulling your shirt down as smoothly as he can. You sit up, trying to decide if you should be embarrassed or angry. Facing Jun, frozen midstep with his jaw hanging open a little and Jihoon in the doorway with his arms folded, shaking his head slightly, you opt for the latter. 

“Does no one knock in Colombia?” You frown at him. “And when did you get back? Why didn’t you call?” 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. “And you were supposed to be alone, according to my sources.” He glares at Jihoon. 

“YN didn’t say he was coming over,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn your frown to him. “You walked in halfway through the movie, I literally shouted ‘Soonyoung’s over.’” 

“I had my headphones on,” he says, though he’s avoiding your eyes too. Typical of your friends, never claiming responsibility for their actions. 

“So this is Soonyoung,” Jun says, turning to face him. Soonyoung moved to the edge of the bed, too far away for your taste but probably an appropriate distance for your friends, especially compared to what they walked in on. Jun tilts his head. “You dyed your hair.” 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratches the back of his head. “Spur of the moment thing.” You miss the blonde, surprisingly fitting considering it isn’t his natural color. But the black suits him too, and probably will help him with law school interviews. Then again, knowing Soonyoung, this color won’t last long either. Good thing there isn’t a color you don’t think suits him. 

“We should do this properly,” Soonyoung says. “Go out for dinner or something.” 

“Hey, I didn’t get dinner,” Jihoon says. 

“You want to get dinner with me?” Soonyoung perks up. 

“No, I’m protesting unfair treatment.” 

“It’s not unfair, I’m just clearly his favorite,” Jun says. 

“Can you guys stop fighting over my boyfriend?” You say. 

Jihoon and Jun stare at you. When Soonyoung turns to face you, he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“What?” 

“You just called him your boyfriend,” Jun says. 

“Well… he is.” You feel your cheeks flush. “Why are you guys making it weird?” 

“It’s not weird,” Soonyoung says. He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “It’s cute,” he whispers in your ear. “Adorable.” This only makes you flush even more. 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just grab this and you two can get back to… whatever.” Jun takes a step towards your bookcase. You grab the pillow that he threw at Soonyoung and nail him in the chest, earning a laugh from Jihoon. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“The book is mine, Soonyoung never fulfilled the bet!” Jun says. You stand up, blocking him from your Pride and Prejudice. 

“Hey, I followed through!” Soonyoung says. “We’re dating!” 

“I remember the bet stating that you had to ask YN out after you took the LSAT.” Jun turns to him. 

“And I did,” Soonyoung says. “You never said it had to be right after.” 

Jun eyes him. “That’s cheating.” 

“That’s being a lawyer,” you say. “And I think he’s going to be really good at it.” 

Jun glances between you and Soonyoung and shakes his head. “Whatever, I’ll get my book back another day.” 

You step closer to Soonyoung and he links his pinky with yours. You glance at your friends. “Are you going to stand there forever or are we getting dinner?” 

“You two don’t want to get back to what you were doing?” Jihoon asks. 

You slip your hand into Soonyoung’s. He meets your eyes and he’s only been your boyfriend for two weeks but looking at him is like looking home. There’s no need to rush. 

“Sounds like someone doesn’t want to pick where we go.” 

“We should make them pay, too,” Soonyoung says. 

You grin at him. “You are the smartest person I know.” 

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Surprise: cbf!soap x f!reader

Johnny called you nearly everyday for months. It wasn’t the same, he wasn’t there to go have dinner with you or to hang out with you for hours at a time, but when you both were free you spent hours on the phone together.

Hearing his voice, knowing that he was still talking to you made you feel better and you knew it made him feel better too.

“I’ll still be in uni by the time you come home.” You told him one day and he scoffed.

“So? That won’t stop me.” He assured you and you laughed because you had worried about it.

Worried that he wouldn’t come home if you were still at classes, worried he would and you’d miss him. But knowing that no matter what, he will come see you not matter what made you feel better.

"When do you think you'll be coming?" You asked, excited and nervous about seeing him again.

"What if I wanted it to be a surprise?" He teased and you groaned.

"C'mon I need to know just the day."

"Well...if your uni wasn't so confusing it'd be today."

You shot up from your bed, your heart beating fast as you tried figure out if you were dreaming or not. Today? Right now? He was here and you were going to see him after almost an entire year of not seeing him?

"Where are you?" You asked urgently as scrambled to get dressed.

"Uh, I think the middle of campus?"

"Johnny! More specific!"

"There's a campus coffee shop right in front of me."

"Do not move from there."

Johnny laughed and you nearly sprinted out of your dorm, knowing exactly where he was. You were close by and you didn't stop for anything as you ran to the coffee shop.

When you got there you looked around frantically for him.

He called out your name, not from the phone but from the square around you. You stopped and looked for him and when you saw him it took only just a moment to recognize him before you were rushing at him.

Johnny wrapped his arms tightly around you when you jumped on him. He held you firmly, almost in a bone crushing hug while you hugged him back just as tight with tears in your eyes.

It felt like home in his arms. Suddenly everything felt so much better inside you as he held you securely to him, to finally see him and feel him after so long.

"I missed you." You choked out and sniffled.

"I missed you too." He sighed heavily.

It took a moment for you both to pull away and when you did, you both took in each other for the first time in almost a year.

The first thing you noticed was the change in his hair. Instead of full head of hair, he instead had shaved it into a Mohawk which hadn’t been trimmed. He had also bulked up, having a lot more muscles than you had ever seen on him before, making him look less like the boy that used to play football and draw pictures, to someone who went to the gym every day.

There was also something different about him. Something more serious that you could see in the way he stood in front of you, more discipline that you never really saw from him before.

And yet, despite that he still had that big doofus grin you had grown up with and known to love.

And at the same time Johnny was going through something similar as he looked at you.

He noticed the changes immediately, noticed how you had more confidence in yourself than the day he had left you, how you looked so much more grown up than he felt and how much more beautiful you were.

He got flustered when you looked into his eyes the same you got flustered when he looked at you.

Maybe it was the fact that the two of you hadn’t seen each other in a long time but neither of you could quite understand you have never truly seen how attractive the other was until this very moment.

“How-How long are you home for?” You asked as you held onto his hand.

“Ten days.” He told you and he squeezed your hand. “We can do whatever you want.”

Ten days wasn’t nearly long enough but you didn’t care. He was here with you now and you felt the happiest you had been in months.

“I know this perfect restaurant near campus and then after that I can show you around.” You offered and he smiled.

“Lead the way, Bonnie.”

A/n: babies are in love but are too dumb to say it

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie @hayleybarnesx @tiredmetalenthusiast @misshoneypaper @sodavrr @ghostslittlegf @glitterypirateduck @comeonatmebruh

[holylulusworld]

BFG (10)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (9)

BFG masterlist

Legend: Y/M/N = Your mother's name Y/F/N = Your father's name

Frances left after she was sure Reacher came back to stay, and that he wouldn't leave again. You watched them say goodbye. Reacher nodded at Neagley and silently thanked her while she awkwardly looked at him.

You got that both, Neagley and Reacher are not fans of showing emotions or hugs. Still, you knew the moment you saw them interact for the first time that they shared a special kind of friendship.

“Have a safe trip home,” you didn’t shake her hand or hug her. Not because you didn’t want to, though. You figured that Neagley doesn’t like physical contact, and respected her personal space. “If you ever come back, you have a place to stay and free cereals.”

She smiled and nodded. “You better keep Mayor Reacher in line. He can be hard to handle but is a protective giant. He’ll be good to you and the baby.” She leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “If he gets antsy, give me a call. I’ll set him straight.”

You giggled and wished her well. Holding back the urge to hug her, you watched Neagley enter her car and drive away. “What did she say?” Reacher asked. “Y/N?”

“Oh, she wanted me to take good care of you, and your stomach,” you chuckled and patted his belly. “How can you stay so fit, and eat that much at the same time?”

“I’m a big guy,” he said and looked down at his body. “Ma always said I grew big and strong for a reason.” He lifted his big hands to look at them. “Maybe she was right.”

“I know she was right,” you said and took his hands to place them on your belly. “You grew big and strong enough to hold your baby one day.”

Reacher smiled at your words. He nodded, eyes glued to his hands on your belly. You didn’t show yet, but he already imagined you swollen with his child. The baby wasn’t planned, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“So, did you think about names already?” Reacher looked up from the assembly instructions of the new cradle you bought. “Reacher?”

“Uh—no,” he said, surprised that you wanted him to think of a name. Reacher didn’t expect to have a say in this. “Do you already know what we’re having?”

“Not yet,” you said and stepped closer to Reacher. The giant sat on the ground; long legs stretched out to read the assembly instructions. “It’s too soon.”

You looked around the room you wanted to turn into a nursery. Reacher already cleaned out the former guestroom and painted the walls in neutral colors.

Reacher followed your eyes, grinning as you admired the teddy bear he painted on the wall. You had no clue he could draw. “I’m finished with the wardrobe and the diaper-changing table. I am trying to build the cradle now. It seems a few screws are missing.”

“How about a break? You worked all morning,” you softly said, and ran your hand over his shoulders. “I made lunch. Sally Ann and the new girl take care of the diner today. I have the day off and we could talk about baby names.”

“My ma’s name was Josephine,” he said, eyes saddening. “Maybe Joseph for a boy. My brother would be over the moon, or not. He wasn’t very emotional.”

You smiled and sat down next to him to pat his thigh. “I like both. Josephine Y/M/N for a girl, and Joseph Y/F/N for a boy. We can decide after finding out about the gender in a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Reacher shoved the food you made into his mouth, groaning as he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a great cook too.”

“You hit the jackpot.” You winked at Reacher before putting more mashed potatoes and another steak on his plate. “Eat up, I got dessert too.”

Reacher licked his lips, already imagining something sweeter than dessert. He’d wait until he finished the nursery, of course. “What will we get for dessert?”

“I tried a new variation of my peach pie. You can have whipped cream too.” He kept on praising your food. You sighed all the while watching him eat. “If you don't want to eat peach pie again, I can make a cherry pie or apple pie.”

“I love your peach pie,” he murmured while eating more mashed potatoes. “And your pie tastes great too.”

“You’re naughty,” you giggled and threw your napkin at him. Reacher easily caught the napkin and wiped his mouth clean. “I like it.”

He laughed, deep and rich as you dreamily looked at the giant of a man. Who would’ve thought he’d stay and raise a child with you when he walked into your diner for the first time?

Tags in reblog.

[littlenahsstuff]

Catch me if I Fall

Chloe Charming x Red x Pan!Reader

Requested by @carcarrose2020

Synopsis: your dad Peter Pan visits you on family and friends day. It embarrasses you and leaves you at the mercy of cruel teenagers, but your girlfriends are here to help.

Warnings: not proofread, the tiniest mention of death, anxiety, fear of heights. Angst. Peter sucks as a dad.

Word count: 2.8k

~~~~~

Your life was so great, you had the best girlfriends in the world, your grades were pretty good despite your head constantly being elsewhere and you were happy! That is until the other kids found out you were Peter Pans daughter. You loved your dad, but he was too goofy and blunt at times.

It all went to hell on Family and Friends day. Your dad was fashionably late to it, which put you in a sour mood. For the majority of the day you stood in the corner watching Red and Chloe catch up with their families. All you had was your shadow, who was just as sad as you were. Several people kept looking at you weird, making you debate whether or not you should just leave.

Before you could, a thin green blur came hurdling down from out of nowhere, landing directly on one of the snack tables. He landed on his feet but ended up kicking off everything in a big crash. He whips his head around in search of you. His hat slips a little in doing so.

Once he reaches you his eyes light up. “There’s my little lost girl!” He yells. You feel your palms grow sweaty from all of the attention that now fell on you. He hops off of the table and runs to you, giving you a noogie on your head.

“D-dad you’re messing up my hair!” You whisper shrilly. He just laughs. He steps away with an exaggerated frown.

“What? Not even a hello first? Oh well, I’m happy to finally see you” he says. You grit your teeth a little.

“Well you could have responded to my letters…” you sigh, he hates reading.

“Oh those were from you! I thought it was just a report card, you know I don’t care about any of that boring stuff.” Even though it wasn’t your fault, he manages to make you feel that way a little bit. Maybe if you put a smiley face he’d be more inclined to open it.

“Yeah, just- it’s not like you’d get a report card every week.” You cross your arms and slump a little. “And I know you don’t care about stuff that involves effort, but all A’s and B’s is pretty good.” He’d be more proud of you did a stupid magic trick. His shadow gives you a thumbs up, making you crack a little smile. “Thanks Shadow.”

He pretends to think for a moment, “Well, next time I get a letter, I’ll open it. After I’m done reading we can recycle it into drawing paper!” He starts bouncing. You feel a deep rage pool in your stomach.

“Dad you aren’t supposed to do that,” you object. He huffs and holds up his pointer finger.

“Come on, I’m not supposed to fly but I do that anyway. You should try it you know? It’s fun.”

“No dad, no flying.” You say, this is like the third time you’ve had to tell him, he knows you’re afraid of heights.

“Anyways I gotta go soon, but shadow here was so excited to see you I had to let him!” His shadow waves shyly. Sometimes you liked him better than your own dad.

You wave back but stop as your eyes widen.

“B-but you just got here!” You say. He smiles awkwardly in response.

“Y-yeah, sorry about that, I promised the boys that I would play hide and go seek, you know how it is on neverland…” he excuses weakly. You scoff.

“Dad, you cannot be serious-“

“Usually never,” he interrupts, “but this place is no fun so I better get going.” He scratches his chin. “But I’ll read your letters.” He agrees. You know he feels bad but he shouldn’t be choosing that over seeing you anyways.

Well thanks but-

Bye!” He gives you a quick hug and just like that, flies away. His shadow tries to stay but gets pulled up with him. Now that he’s gone you can see everyone looking at you still and just book it. The whole thing was humiliating. You know not growing up is his thing but every second is a painful reminder you will never be his priority because taking care of you is no fun.

You find your way to your shared dorm, just deciding to sleep away the rest of the day. When your girlfriends get back to the room they get worried. They had no idea your dad was so… young and foolish. They come in to see you asleep.

“Red, we should let her sleep,” Chloe says. Red reluctantly agrees.

“Fine, but tomorrow we should make sure she’s okay. Her dad acted like he wanted nothing to do with her. Which, doesn’t make sense!” Red’s fist clench. She wanted to go and talk to you but even now that her mom is nice, Bridget still had a very possessive nature.

“I agree but please keep it down, she probably wants to sleep anyways.” Chloe gives Red a pat on the back. Red frowns.

“Come to think of it he came like really late, it felt like we were with our families for hours before he showed up and then he said like two things and left.” Red crosses her arms.

“She never mentioned him being like that, like we knew he was her dad but I didn’t know he was still doing that boy wonder act. He should be well into his fifties by now and he acted like he was six,” Chloe adds, pacing.

“He looked like he was 20 though, so he’s older than he was in the stories about him but still. Y/n’a like 19, they’re already pretty much the same age physically.” Red scrunches her face.

“I guess that makes more sense why she’s always seemed to act older. If I had a dad like that I wouldn’t want to be so careless either, she probably had to parent herself” Chloe and Red start connecting the dots.

“Well, let’s keep an eye on that I guess,” Red sighs and starts making her way to her bed.

“Yeah, for sure.” Chloe nods and starts putting her hair up in a bonnet and takes her makeup off. Stopping Red she says, “Y/n might already be asleep but you’re not missy. Take off your makeup before you are.”

“Ugh fine.”

*****

The next morning, when both Chloe and Red wake up, you are nowhere to be found. You weren’t in the bathroom getting ready, you weren’t at breakfast… Chloe and Red were getting nervous. The only thing that calmed them down was when they noticed you took your homework that was originally on your desk, meaning you’d be in class later.

Until then, you roamed the halls trying to get your dad off of your mind. He was more like a brother if anything. Right now would have been a great rock kicking moment but you were inside. You know it wasn’t a good idea avoiding Red and Chloe… you’d see them in your castle-economics class later anyways. It’s not like you were royalty but you took it so you could be with them.

You pause when you hear a snicker and look up. There was a group of kids pointing and whispering at you.

“I can see you, you know that right?” You raise an eyebrow.

One of them replies, “Oh we know.” They weren’t anyone important, some snooty royal kids. They weren’t even the popular ones.

“Hey, what’s it like having a squirrel raise you? You must be pretty nutty!” They all burst out in laughter. While you love a good pun that was cruel.

“I’m just- I’m gonna go” you start walking and another yells,

“Here we go! Make sure you hold onto your pixie dust, lost girl!” You say loudly,

“I don’t even have any.” You start walking a little quicker.

Thankfully none of them are in your castle-economics class which is next. But… Chloe and Red are so you’ve got another thing to deal with.

You walk in and pick a seat in the farther back, not too many kids are there. As they trickle in one by one you get more nervous to see your girlfriends walk in.

“There you are!” Chloe gasps, yanking Reds hand to sit next to you. You swear you hear someone say-

“Ooh trouble in Neverland.”

“Hey guys,” you smile, “sorry I wasn’t there this morning. I was taking a little walk.” The pit already in your stomach starts to grow.

“Yeah…” Red gives you a suspicious look.

Chloe just looks worried, her head tilting a little. “Did you eat?” You shake your head.

“No, but I’m not that hungry either.”

“Alright class, pipe down! Today we’re going over budgeting for a ball. I trust you have your homework, please pass it up.” Your teacher, Mother Goose asks. You give the person in front of you your homework and they do so too. But right after they turn back to you.

“I’m surprised you even know what a ball is, where you live they play on stick banjos and logs.” They whisper, snicker, and turn around. You just look down, not wanting to see your girlfriends’ reactions to the dig.

“Hey asshole-“ you hear besides you, it’s obviously Red. You grab her hand underneath the desk and look her in the eyes in a silent plea for her to stop.

“Quiet all of you, now onto today’s lesson…”

Eventually class ends, despite you barely retaining anything it seemed to go on forever. You slowly get up and walk out with your girlfriends. Before you can walk too far away Red grabs your shoulder and turns you back around.

“Hi there-“ you squeak.

Chloe looks at you very worried, “are you alright? We saw what happened yesterday-“

“Yeah everyone did!” You snap, quickly after, you take a deep breath and apologize.

“It’s alright we can tell something is up. Have a lot of people been saying things like what Laury said in class?” She asks. You shake your head no nervously.

“That’s bull babe, come on, tell us” Red puts a hand on your shoulder. You look away.

“Just like a few things so far, it’s no big deal. Can we please talk about this later? I have to get to my next class, I don’t like being late.” You mumble the last part.

“It is a big deal but yes, you can go, we’re walking you there!” Chloe objects, you actually break a smile.

“Thanks.”

The walk there is a little silent but with a farewell you won’t have to face them till after school.

*****

It’s finally the end of the school day, you just have to put something in your locker before you can relax in your girlfriends’ lovely arms. You put the last book in when someone behind you says your name. You turn around.

“Yes?” You question, the person happens to be one of the meaner kids at the school. They are giving you a wicked grin that causes a twist in your stomach.

“I heard you’ve never flown like your dad before, figured I’d help out!” They yell and before you can register it, they blow a fistful of pixie dust on you. You think you’re okay for a second because if you don’t believe you don’t fly. The notion is immediately turned down by the bully and the fact you are starting to float.

“Oh and uh, this stuff has certain buffs to really make sure it helps.” You rise higher and higher till you’re about 8 feet off the ground. Your stomach goes into a fluttery sick kind of feeling and you get dizzy with fear. You let out a little shriek.

“S-somebody please, please get me down.” Your feet dangle back and forth- while you thank god you don’t go any higher, you feel like fainting more with every second. A bunch of thoughts of falling and twisting or breaking something and even the question could you die runs through your head.

“Please!” You gasp. A few people start laughing at you and you start shaking more. Why is no one helping me?

You’re so frozen with fear you don’t see your girlfriends’ come see what the commotion was about. Before you can see them, you feel yourself start to become heavy. The dust wears off completely right after and you plummet with a scream. As it feels like time slows down, you close your eyes and embrace as much as you can from impact. Instead, you feel strong arms catch you. You’re still in shock until your name is said by Red who stands next to you in Chloe’s arms.

You carefully peel an eye open, “I-I’m safe.” You say in disbelief. “You saved me.” You blush as you look around and see everyone go quiet, they clearly didn’t know you would just fall like that. Red turns at them angrily.

“Scram!” She yells and everyone awkwardly scatters, the culprit among them.

“Are you okay!” Chloe frets, setting you down gently and checking you over.

“I-I guess, I- I’m terrified of heights, can’t stand them,” you admit. So badly does Red want to say duh, but she holds it back.

“Yeah, that’s understandable, and even someone who wasn’t afraid of heights would be scared in that situation babe,” she says instead, speaking with her hands a little. You exhale and try and mentally regulate.

“Yeah, um, can we please go back to our dorm,” softly ask. Both of them nod vigorously and rap an arm each around you. You get there, just barely holding back a sob that unleashes once inside. You turn around and bury your head in their shoulders and hug them. Red is a little shocked but pats your head. Chloe rubbs your back and coos.

She sighs into your hair and softly says, “It’s okay baby, let it all out.” Red nods.

She tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and continues petting your hair. “We’re here for you.” The two glance at one another, not actually saying anything till the sobs subsided.

“Do you wanna talk about it baby?” Chloe asks, pulling away to look into your eyes.

Your voice is sniffly; “no… but it would be good for me.” They don’t say anything to signal that you have the floor if you want it.

“I- I don’t really get along with my dad that well and he’s a lot, as you now know. I just feel like he’ll love me regardless but I’ll never come first. And I just wish he’d grow up instead of embarrass me acting like a child. And I can’t fly with him because of my fears, it makes it hard to bond. And I guess everyone just likes making fun of the fact I’m basically the same age as my dad or that I’m some kid from some random island.” You take a deep breath. A weight was taken off your chest, you’ve never really voiced any of your troubles to anyone. They hold your hands.

“Oh Princess, that must be so hard. I get being ashamed of your parents, my mom used to be awful. But I’m here for you, Chloe too. We just want you happy and we can make sure other people don’t mess with you.” Red replies, trying to connect with you. All she wants is to see a smile be put back in your face, a good one.

Chloe nods. “Yeah sweets, we’ll make sure they don’t. And you can talk to us about this anytime you need to get something off your chest. Wanna watch a movie and cuddle?” She puts a hand on your cheek and you melt into it. Your heart flutters.

“Thank you both, you do know how to make me feel better.” You manage a smile. “And I would love nothing more than to do that.”

Red smirks and leads you to the bed, making sure you’re all cozy before dragging Chloe in too.

“I think a comedy is a good theme for tonight!” Chloe suggests, to which you give a hum of approval.

“As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with flying or heights in general” you say, but you’re still happy.

“Can do!” Chloe selects a comedy all three of you had mentioned wanting to watch. It was a romantic comedy too.

Red puts her hand on Chloe’s arm quickly. “Before you click play Chloe there’s something we should do.”

She smiles at you before capturing you in a kiss and a bunch of pecks. Chloe clears her throat, causing Red to stop and look up. She takes the opportunity to kiss you deeply too. You smile into the kisses. Everything’s gonna be alright after all.

[mrsportgas]

The Neighbor. CHAPTER 1

Summary: The story takes place in the real world. Shanks, your unbearable neighbor, makes you a proposition that you're unsure whether to reject. It could be the start of a friendship, or maybe something more?

SHANKS X YOU

WARNING: Except for the first chapter, the rest will contain scenes of sex and violence, making this fanfic strictly +18.

Nami and I had just arrived. It was Sunday, and people were out and about, either running errands, taking a stroll, or simply enjoying the last hours of the day before the week began again. The neighborhood was lively. As I looked out the window, I could see children playing in the park, adults walking their dogs, and others jogging, all going about their lives calmly. Nami parked the car in the driveway, and to the right, a huge Range Rover took up the entire parking spot. The semi-detached houses, split two by two, practically forced you to share the parking and almost the garden with the next-door neighbor.

"Hurry up, Y/N! Let's grab the stuff and go in, they’ve been waiting for us at the bar for hours," Nami said, slightly out of breath.

I laughed at her nervousness, got out of the car, and grabbed the things from the trunk, following my friend.

It had been a year since I finished college, and now Nami and I were starting our PhDs at the same university. So, we had returned to the town where the university was located, but this time, we rented a house in the suburbs. We felt too old to go back to the sorority and wanted some peace and quiet.

We had made plans to meet our friends from college. Some, like us, had started their PhDs, others had stayed working in the city, and Luffy was still in his final year.

"Let’s just drop the stuff at the entrance and go. They’re going to kill us, we’re so late," I said, hoping Nami would relax a bit.

We finished unloading everything from the car and headed to the bar. We chose a bar close to our new house so we could get to know the local spots better, although it was likely we’d end up partying at our place more than once.

We entered the bar, where Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, and Robin were already quite lively.

"Guys!!!" Nami shouted, completely unaware that she was drawing everyone’s attention in the bar.

Everyone greeted us enthusiastically. It had been months since I had seen them, so we spent a long time saying hello. We started catching up, each of us updating the group on what we’d been up to. Meanwhile, Zoro drank at lightning speed, seemingly unaffected, and Luffy ate quickly, as usual.

"Y/N, don’t you want something to drink? Come on, it’s on me," said Sanji, guiding me to the bar without waiting for an answer.

The bar was packed with all kinds of people, though the bar itself was clear, except for a group of men. I made eye contact with one of them, who was chatting with two women, and then turned his gaze towards our group.

"Luffy!!!" the man shouted.

Luffy turned around, and a huge smile appeared on his face. He ran over, hugging the man, practically plowing through the bar like a bull in a china shop. I’d say he almost knocked over those women. "Shanks!!!!!!!"

The two of them started chatting animatedly.

"Y/N, I got this for you," Sanji said, snapping me out of my daze.

I wasn’t sure what he had ordered, but I trusted his taste in food and drinks, so I grabbed the glass and returned to the table.

The night flew by, with everyone drinking and chatting excitedly.

"Luffy, who was that guy?" Nami asked.

"He’s not that guy. It’s Shanks, he’s a friend of mine," Luffy responded, laughing.

"You have the weirdest friends," Nami repeated, and we all burst out laughing.

"Nami, we should probably head out, or we won’t be able to get up tomorrow," I suggested.

Nami nodded, and we all got up to leave.

"I’ll walk you home, girls, and you too, Robin," Sanji said, trying to wrap his arms around us.

"We’re fine, Sanji. You’d better walk Robin so she’s not alone," Nami said, dismissing Sanji’s offer.

Nami and I got back home and agreed to clean up the next day since we still had a week before our PhD program started.

I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed, ready to fall asleep, when I heard noises outside. My window faced the front yard and several windows of the neighboring house, so every time someone passed by, I could hear them. I just prayed they weren’t a family with loud kids. I took advantage of the night to look out the window without being seen and finally see who our new neighbors were.

The man from the bar, Luffy’s friend, was walking with the two women he had been talking to. All three were clearly drunk, stumbling across the parking lot while the women complimented the man’s car, and he showed off, flirting with both of them.

"Nami!!!!!!!" I ran to her room, hoping she wasn’t asleep yet.

"Y/N?!?! Are you okay? What’s going on?" Nami responded, clearly disoriented.

"Come quickly, our neighbor is outside. You won’t believe who it is."

We both rushed back to my room like the nosy people we were, hiding as best we could behind the curtains, watching the whole scene.

"That old guy is our neighbor? Great. Looks like we’ll have some good entertainment," Nami said.

I burst out laughing. "He’s not that old, and if he’s Luffy’s friend, I’m sure he’s cool."

"Or a total weirdo… Looks like he’s gone inside. Well, I’m off to bed. If you find out anything else, let me know tomorrow," Nami said with a mischievous smile as she left my room.

She closed the door, and I turned around, just in time to notice that right in the window across from mine, our dear neighbor—shirtless—was laughing and chatting with the women in what appeared to be the master bedroom. Suddenly, he looked out the window, his gaze meeting mine, as I stood in the middle of my window, completely visible.

Our eyes locked, and a huge smile spread across his face. My heart started racing, pounding in my chest. I quickly closed the curtains, my face flushed and burning. I jumped into bed, hiding under the covers. As I calmed down, the image of his muscular body kept popping into my mind. He might be older, but it was clear he was hot.

The next morning, Nami and I unpacked all our belongings and carefully organized everything.

"Why don’t we invite all our friends from the city tonight? It’ll be fun," Nami suggested with a mischievous tone.

"Alright, just hope nothing gets broken, or the landlord will kill us."

We began calling and messaging all our friends and then started setting everything up. We dressed in our favorite outfits, and Nami did her favorite hairstyle on me. "This is the one that looks best on you. You look gorgeous!" she said every time she styled my hair like this.

The night came quickly, along with the guests. We greeted old friends and acquaintances. The party was in full swing. Zoro and Nami were competing to see who could drink the most without passing out, Usopp and Robin were playing beer pong with a few others, while Luffy ate as much as he could. Sanji was busy making drinks for anyone who asked.

"Could you make me a piña colada?" I asked as I approached the table where Sanji was mixing various drinks.

"For you, anything," he replied, winking.

Suddenly, a loud noise interrupted us. The doorbell rang sharply, and Nami rushed to open the door.

Behind it stood our neighbor, clearly fed up.

"What, did you come to join the party, old man?" Nami teased.

"It’s Monday. I have work tomorrow. Could you at least turn the music down?" Shanks replied, ignoring Nami’s comment.

"Oh yeah? You had your little party yesterday, now it’s our turn. Buzz off, old buzzkill," Nami said, slamming the door in his face. "Let’s keep the party going!"

"Nami, what are you doing? We could get in trouble. We just got here," I said, running to open the door again.

The man was still there, his hand on the doorbell, ready to ring again. His surprised expression gave away that he hadn’t expected anyone to open the door.

"I’m calling the police if you don’t turn down the volume. If I don’t do it, another neighbor will. Do you realize people have work tomorrow?" he reprimanded us.

"Please don’t call the police. I’ll turn the music down, and if that’s not enough, we’ll end the party. But please, don’t call."

"You have 10 minutes, or I will," he responded coldly.

I didn’t like his tone at all. I had tried to apologize, and he was still being rude.

"Fine, then I’ll call the police and tell them how you were staring into my room yesterday, you freak," I said, slamming the door in his face.

Nami, who was still behind me watching the whole scene, burst out laughing. "It's been a while since you showed your sassy side, it was about time!"

We both laughed at the situation. "We got stuck with the annoying neighbor."

I headed back towards Sanji, but just before I got there, someone grabbed my arm.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, gorgeous?"

I turned, pulling my arm away forcefully from the person’s grip. Kid—my ex—his voice was unmistakable.

A year ago, right after we graduated from college, our relationship was at its worst. It was the most toxic relationship I’d ever had, and taking advantage of the fact that I was moving back to my hometown, I left him, thinking I’d never hear from him again.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was invited, though I didn't get an invite from you. Guess it got lost on the way," he replied with a smug look.

I responded with a disgusted face, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

"You know? I haven’t stopped thinking about you, not for a single day. Honestly, I only came tonight because I know we’re getting back together."

I threw a desperate glance in Sanji’s direction, and he immediately understood my non-verbal cues.

"Leave," Sanji said, approaching us.

"This doesn’t concern you, cook," Kid responded, clearly challenging him. "Get out of my sight."

"I said leave. Y/N doesn’t want to talk to you," Sanji replied, unfazed.

Kid got in Sanji's face, pushing him slightly while repeating, "You want a fight?" over and over.

Luffy and Zoro appeared from the nearby rooms, grabbing Kid and throwing him out through the front door.

"It’s best if you all leave," I said, my voice breaking.

I was overwhelmed and scared. The fact that Kid was back in town, knew I was here too, and even where I lived, made me anxious.

People quickly left the house after the scene. Nami turned off the music and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. I just stood there trembling.

"Don’t worry," Nami said while hugging me. "If he bothers you, the guys will take care of him. Nothing’s going to happen."

The rest of the week passed normally. We both started our PhDs, so we were so busy with work and tasks around the new house that the days flew by. Occasionally, we’d run into our dear neighbor, whom we awkwardly greeted—well, Nami did; I just ignored him. After our encounter, I didn’t even want to see him.

"He’s just an old freak, forget about him, Y/N," Nami said after hearing that I’d bumped into him by the window and that he’d waved at me. "I’m sure he’s waiting by the window for you to look out," she added with a laugh.

"Ughh, I don’t even want to think about it."

It was Friday morning. We’d been here for almost a week, and the sun had been shining every day except today, when it was pouring rain non-stop. That night, we had plans to meet at the bar right after class or work, so I wore a skirt, my best top, a cute sweater, and high boots.

The day went by normally, except for the constant rain. As I left, I headed to the bus stop. A huge Range Rover passed by, splashing through a puddle, soaking me from head to toe and ruining my outfit. Now I had no choice but to go home to change. "Damn idiot," I thought. I got on the bus, completely drenched, and shortly after, I got off, realizing I’d left my umbrella at the stop. I ran as fast as I could to the front door, which left me soaked to the bone.

To make matters worse, I couldn’t find my house keys, and Nami wasn’t home. I called her three times and sent her a ton of messages, but nothing—she didn’t answer. After 20 minutes, my wet clothes started to chill me to the bone, and I began to shiver from the cold. Nami still seemed oblivious, so I decided to text our group chat, but no one responded.

"What happened to you? Can’t get into the house?" My annoying neighbor was getting out of his Range Rover, holding grocery bags in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

"Yeah, I forgot my keys, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to keep trying to call my friend."

"You’re going to freeze. Want to come inside while you wait?" Shanks suggested, with a little smirk on his face.

NEXT CHAPTER

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: husband! Mingi x f! Reader x other man! Hongjoong (both fxm and mxm)

Word Count: 1662

Warnings: cursing, none otherwise (smut warnings under cut)

Genre: smut, fluff, rated E for explicit, established relationship au

Summary: Your second man is coming over for a night of passion, and your husband would like to attend

Smut warnings: fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected (dont do *gun emoji), creampie, some cum play, light breast play, marking, dirty talk, degredation, masturbation, cuckolding, if i missed any lmk!

Look, i know i said time god san was the last of February Filth Fest but cuckolding just appealed to me SO MUCH AHHHH!!! especially with these two! so this is frfr my last one, track 27 - cuckolding <3 hope u enjoy!

and thank u to @sanjoongie for some inspo hehe

-

As you step out of the shower, you can hear Mingi practically stomping up the stairs two steps at a time, and you roll your eyes affectionately even though he can’t see it. He probably got home from work while you were in the middle of showering and just decided to wait around for you. You can’t tell whether it’s adorable or hilarious that he insists on greeting you being the first thing he does when he gets home. Maybe it’s both.

“Hey, baby!” Mingi pokes his head around the corner right as you tuck the towel around you. “How was your day?”

“Same old same old.” You open your arms for a hug, Mingi swooping right in, not minding your wet hair. “What are you up to?”

You get your answer as his hands trail down your body, cupping the curve of your ass. “You, hopefully?” Your husband’s voice lilts upwards but you shake your head and step away.

“Sorry, baby, Hongjoong’s coming around today. His face falls but his eyes sparkle with a question in them and you chuckle, leaning forward to brush your nose against his. “As usual, you’re welcome to watch. Or I could just send you pictures of the aftermath you’ll never get to touch.”

You can feel his hard-on pressing into your bare hip, and Mingi nods eagerly. “I’ll watch,” he decides without really deciding. Your big dumb husband who would do anything just for you. You press a sweet kiss to his cheek, patting the soft flesh afterwards.

“He’ll be here in ten. Why don’t you go get comfortable while I get ready, okay? Be good for me.”

In his haste, Mingi almost runs straight into the doorframe and you hold back your laughter as you turn back to the mirror to finish drying your hair and start applying your makeup.

-

Hongjoong’s mouth is hungry on yours as he practically swallows each breath you sigh out. His hands are wandering up and down your sides, pinching and pulling at the soft flesh of your breasts. Little whimpers are falling from your mouth but he eats them up like it’s his dinner.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mingi stiff in his desk chair, hand gripping the large bulge in his pants like a horny schoolboy watching porn for the first time. You love him, and how sweet he is, but you sometimes need something just…more. Something Hongjoong fulfils for you.

With his teeth sinking into your neck, Hongjoong draws your attention back to him. “Eyes on me, baby,” he hums, honey dripping from his mouth although his actions are not nearly as sweet. “I’ll fuck you better than he ever could. Big dick and frame, and can hardly use it, hm?”

You moan at his words, and you just know Mingi is getting harder with every sound that leaves either of your mouths. Without warning, Hongjoong shoves two fingers deep inside of your mouth, revelling in the way you had and throws your head back in pleasure. “Shit,” you moan out around his fingers as Hongjoong nips his way down your neck, taking great pleasure in marking you up in front of your watching husband.

As his mouth trails over your breasts, his other hand slips into your panties, pressing against your already-throbbing clit and you squeal at the contact. “Look at you, so needy for me,” Hongjoong growls into your soft flesh. “Mr Song really doesn’t please you enough, hm? You need me to fill the gaps when all he can do is whisper pretty words into your ears and fuck you slow and sweet.”

His voice is still like a dove’s but the words he’s hissing into you aren’t. “Please,” you beg, all feelings of shame are long gone and all you want is more, more, more. “Fuck, please give me more.”

Hongjoong giggles high-pitched, his hard-on pressing into your hip and grinding slightly into the soft fabric of your dress. He likes it best when you dress up nice just to get wrecked, and it only serves to make him harder rutting up against your evening wear. “Already begging for me, huh? Bet I could slide right into your sloppy pussy, Mingi stretching you out just fine but can’t do anything else, huh? Shall we test that theory?”

You barely even noticed how he already had your dress scrunched up on your stomach and your panties around your knees until his fingers ghosted over your core, making you whine. Hongjoong pulls out his thick cock from the tight confines of his sweats, pressing the tip into you, making you whine at the feeling of the burning hot head entering your eager hole.

You moan again and you can practically imagine the way Mingi eyes you swallowing Hongjoong’s cock with your pussy, pouting in the way that drew you to him in the first place. Any and all thoughts of your husband are soon blown straight out of your mind, however, as soon as Hongjoong bottoms out in one swift motion, filling you up so well and hitting that perfect spot inside of you.

Your whines rise in pitch as he immediately starts jackhammering into you, his fingers moving nonstop on your breasts, kneading and massaging them as he mouths at your nipples. “Fuck, Joong,” his name falls from your lips easily, “you’re so good for me.”

You can’t seem to stop singing his praises, and Hongjoong chuckles, eyes trained in on your face as he bites marks into your neck with wild abandon. He laves his tongue over each bruise blooming over your skin, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as his hips create a rhythm. If you focus, you can barely hear Mingi stroking his cock over the slick sounds of your cunt sucking Hongjoong deeper and deeper into you.

Your hands scrabble to find purchase as one of Hongjoong’s hands wanders down to rub at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive bud. “Ah–” You don’t even think you’re making any sort of discernable sound but it hardly seems to matter when Hongjoong’s fucking you so well.

“Mingi.” Hongjoong’s sharp voice cuts through the haze filling your mind, and you turn to see Mingi’s wide eyes staring at Hongjoong like he holds some type of power over the taller man. “Do you want to come closer?”

Mingi nods frantically without inhibitions, desperate for anything. “Come here, baby,” you call for him, voice wrecked just from how well Hongjoong made you feel. “No touching, okay?”

Hongjoong has slowed to careful, precise thrusts as he pulls Mingi closer by the belt loops of his jeans. The difference between your calm demeanour and Hongjoong’s harsh attitude towards your husband only serves to make his cock somehow redder and harder. As he looks up at your husband, Hongjoong’s lips pull into a killer smirk. “Should I teach you how to use your big, dumb cock? But we all know it’ll still never be enough for your wife.”

Mingi’s dick jumps at Hongjoong’s words and he whines low in his throat. It’s confirmation enough for Hongjoong, who leans down to take just the tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the velvet head and dipping into the slit. Mingi gasps, the veins in his neck popping out as it takes all his willpower not to come right then and there.

Hongjoong’s other hand leaves your breast to fondle Mingi’s balls and he pops off with a crazed grin. “Already gonna blow so soon? This is why you can’t please (Y/N) enough. Always busting a nut early and leaving her with nothing. Why else do you think I’m here, huh? Do what your big, dumb, cock can’t. I may be smaller than you, but she surely prefers me.”

Mingi’s cock twitches again, and before he can burst, Hongjoong dips his head again, sheathing the entire length into his mouth and Mingi comes, shooting ropes upon ropes of searing cum into Hongjoong’s mouth.

Hongjoong doesn’t stop stroking Mingi until every last drop is milked, and then he dips his head and lets the come dribble out onto your pussy, his cock pushing Mingi’s cum into your pulsing cunt. “See, there you go, Mingi,” Hongjoong says, his tone so condescending but it only serves to make your brain even fuzzier, “it’s your come, but I’ll do all the work for you. Since you clearly can’t do it yourself.”

You grab at Hongjoong’s hand, whining loudly, and he looks at you in surprise. “More,” you whine, the only thing on your mind is your release.

With a knowing look, Hongjoong says nothing and returns to pounding you into the mattress, your high getting closer and closer until it finally breaks and crashes over you like wave after wave. “Fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back as your legs shake and your cunt flutters around Hongjoong’s cock. It seems to be the only word you can pronounce, repeating it over and over until you can feel your mind clearing up. Your body feels so heavy on the mattress and you feel like you could just sink into it.

Warm hands roam their way up your torso to your face, and Hongjoong’s face pokes into your line of vision as he peppers kisses on your cheeks. “Good?” he asks, and you nod hazily.

“Good.”

You reach out your arms, and as usual, both Hongjoong and Mingi fall into them, wrapping their bodies around you. “I still gotta clean you up, you know,” Hongjoong hums but you whine and just pull them closer.

“Not yet. I wanna lie down.”

Mingi chuckles into your ear. “You’ve been lying down since we started, baby. You’re such a pillow princess.”

You make a face at him. “Brave words from someone who came from someone kissing their dick. Now shut up and give me a kiss.”

With another laugh, both your men acquiesce and your heart fills with warmth.

-

@cultofdionysusnet

[twice-inamillion]

Childhood Dream

Fluff, Story Building, Light Smut (Handjob, Facial)

Chapter 225

1740 Words

(Sana has been interested in making one of her early childhood dreams come true. As a reward she gives you a memorable moment.)

Ever since you and Sana went to the construction site and took a tour of the house, she’s been a bit more happier than usual. She goes to your office in the mornings when you call on the progress of the house and eagerly listens to them. You even asked her if she wanted a copy of the plot and house layout since she would constantly look at yours.

Obviously, she agreed, and you got her a set. She would often ask you questions whenever she had a hard time understanding something. You were more than happy to help her out and keep her busy. Surprisingly, she picked up what you taught her quickly and even asked if it was possible to build something else on the property. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I want to build a daycare.”

You see the seriousness in her eyes and ask, “Why do you want to build one?”

“Well… growing up, I always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but after talking to Chaeyoung’s mom, she told me she used to work at a daycare after her children got a bit older. She told me about help experience, and it seems like having one would be great.”

You’re surprised by their conversation and didn’t know that Sana felt that way. It’s true that having daycare or kindergarten would be easier for members once the children get older. It’s even more important now after the experience that Sana went through; you can’t imagine what would occur if the public found out about the existence of your children. 

“You’re right. Maybe having one is a good idea. How about we talk to the rest of the members?”

Sana giggles and says, “I already talked to them, and they said yes.”

“Haha, so it wasn’t much asking me but just telling me to build one.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, did you have anything in mind?”

The two of you spend most of the morning going over where the daycare would be and how big. You drew multiple sketches and drawings of what the building could have, such as a room for infants, two- to three-year-olds, four- to five-year-olds, and a kitchen. Sana mentioned that having a nice kitchen with homemade meals, a teacher's lounge, and a large playground would be nice for the kids. It took a while until the two of you could finalize the number of rooms and if having the infants separated from the rest was best or if having them in a detached building was better.

“What about the teachers?” you asked.

“Well, Chaeyoung’s mom said she would like to be one of the infant teachers, and Jihyo’s mom said they were more than willing to help. Mina mentioned it to her mom and said she would be willing to move and help with the twins. I wanted to ask my mom, but I don’t want to mention anything about kids until I’m better.” 

You pull her in for a hug and hold her tight as she closes her eyes and relaxes. Once she’s a bit better, you both continue and decide where to place the build. “How about here? It’s away from the house, and we can have a nice playground.”

Sana looks around at the layout of the plot and agrees that having it away from the house would be best. “I remember my mom taking me to kindergarten on her bike. Maybe we can do the same,” she said, laughing as she tried to remember her childhood moments. 

“That seems like fun. I’ll try to see if it's possible to build it. I’ll try to get it started as soon as possible if we can.”

Sana stands up from her chair and kisses you on the cheek, “Thank you!” she skips out of your office and goes off to see the children. 

—————

A few days pass, and you come back from talking with the developers. Everything was approved, and I wanted to surprise Sana with the news. You walk to the living room and see her sleeping on the couch with Ari on her stomach. 

“Sana, wake up.”

She rubs her eyes and turns towards you, “No, let me sleep.”

“Come on, you need to head upstairs.”

“I don’t want to, I’m…I’m going to sleep here” and turns over.

You slowly pick up Ari, holding her in your arms, and walk her upstairs to Chae’s mom. You knock and see Chae’s mom changing Hina. “Aww, she fell asleep. You can place her here,” she said as she pointed at the bed.

You kiss both Ari and Hina on the forehead before saying thanks and heading out to the living room. “Thank you.” 

Now, in front of Sana, you nudge her arm, trying to wake her up, but it’s no use. “Alight, I guess it will be getting my workout for tonight.” You place your hand at each end and pick up Sana. Surprisingly, she doesn’t weigh much at all, and you can easily carry her to your room. You place her on the bed and ask, “Sana, did you wash your teeth?”

Still sleeping she mumbles, “Nee…” and tuck her in and give her a kiss.

You’re woken up to freezing cold hands rubbing against your thighs, “Good morning, Sana.” You turn around and see Sana with a smile, “Good morning, baby.” You chuckle when she goes up your inner thigh and into your shorts, “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Just wanted to say thanks.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sorry, but I heard your phone go off and saw that it was from a girl, so I am just a bit jealous. I read the text and saw that the permits and layout were approved. Said that you were going to have a meeting with the developers.” You see the light shine in her eyes by the news. 

Suddenly, you feel the cold sensation in your private regions and say, “Wait, what are you doing?” 

“I just want to say thanks. I know it’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

You feel her ice-cold fingers grab your limp cock and groan, “Ahh… fuck… it’s cold.” Still having the bedcovers, you can only imagine what is going on as you feel swaying your cock back and forth. Little by little, it slowly gets hard, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah…”

“Tell me if it feels good, okay.”

“Okay…”

With her thumb and index finger around the tip of your cock she slowly peels your foreskin back until your mushroom tip pops out. Now hardened, she pulls her hand back out and spits on her hand before going back down. She teases you by gently rubbing the tip of your cock with her wet fingers, making you moan from how sensitive it is. 

“Do you like that, babe?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She then grabs your shaft and slowly begins to stroke your cock. Sana kisses your chest, causing your cock to twitch. She increases the pace of her stroking, squeezing, and tilting it up. This causes your cock to throb and Sana to simile by your moaning. 

“Do you like that baby? Me stroking your big cock with my small fingers?”

“I do… I love it.”

She strokes it even faster and faster, as well as tightening the grip of her hand, “How bad do you want to cum?”

“I want to cum, I haven’t done it in a while.”

“Where do you want to cum?”

“Fuck… I don’t know, I just want to cum…”

“Want to paint my face white?”

Sana begins to giggle when she sees your cock react to her words of painting her face with cum. She flips the bedsheet over, revealing your throbbing cock, and crawls out of bed. She gets on her knees right in front of the bed. You get off the bed and stand right in front of her, stroking your cock with a firm grip. 

She looks directly into your eyes as she sees that you’re about to reach your peak. “Cum for me, baby; cover my pretty face in your thick cum.” 

You’re reaching your peak and can feel all your energy concentrating down in your core. “Fuck… I’m cumming! In one hard stroke, you watch as a rope of white hot cum flies and covers Sana’s. Her eyes are closed as it paints her eyebrows, nose, whole mouth, and small breasts. 

“It’s so hot! You must have been so backed up, baby.” 

“I was, but it was worth it,” you say as you look at the work of art you just made, using Sana’s body as your canvas.

She collects as much cum as she can with her tongue before showing you the amount of cum you shot in her mouth. She gargles you cum side to side and swallows it, then sticks out her tongue, showing you that it’s gone. 

“Thank you for the breakfast, babe.” 

She stands up, grabs her phone, and poses in front of her mirror, taking a photo of her upper body covered in your baby batter. 

“How about joining me for a shower?”

“I’d love to.” 

You smack her ass, making her giggle until you hear a pair of loud footsteps running across the hallway. 

“Apa!! Apa!” 

Both of your faces are horrified as the steps get louder. “I’m going to the shower; I don’t want the kids to see me like this!”

You quickly grab your bathrobe and the bathroom as Jisoo knocks on the door. Chaeyoung’s mom opened the door, and the two sisters yelled, “Apa??” They tilt their head and are surprised not to see you in your room but then hear the water running in the bathroom. “It seems like your daddy is taking a shower. How about we come back later and say good morning to him?” They both nodded their heads and ran out of the room. 

Chaeyoung’s mom was about to close the door when she noticed small stains that led from the bed to the bathroom. She walks towards it, sees the clear substance, and smiles before heading back and closing the door, “What a time to be young.” 

[lynderman]

𝘼 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙀𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 (Xavier Thorpe)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Addams!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k+

Date Published: 12/9/22

Synopsis: You’ve always been 2nd place. First place for losers. Attending Nevermore was supposed to change that.

A/N: (I was so confident writing this, and I feel like I went down a rabbit hole because some shit doesn't even make sense. So idk if it’s good or not. It also isn’t proofread 💀)

Part 2

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Vi, are you still free after fencing today? I thought I’d take you up on that offer and go down to Jericho to get-“

“Sorry. I told Wednesday I’d meet her in the nightshades library to look for a certain book.” My smile instantly vanished as he said her name. It’s not that I hate her, no. I could never. We’re best friends! Well, as close as best friends could be to Wednesday Addams. I didn’t have a reason to hate her; But I did have more than enough to be jealous. Ever since we were kids she’s always been able to one-up me.

It started with small things like getting better grades in school. Then to committing higher and bigger crimes. And it eventually reached the point where I felt like everyone in the family preferred her to me. Even my own dad! Her precious ‘Uncle Fester’, the only one who made her smile. He made everyone smile though. Every time he came home from one of his jobs, I’d get a pat on the head and Wednesday would get a hug. His niece got more love and affection from him than his own daughter did.

I thought maybe, just maybe when I came to Nevermore I’d be able to fit in. Be my own person! Make my own friends, be someone who I wanted to be. Not living in the shadows of my cousin; Being known as ‘The other Addams?’ Or ‘Wednesdays’ Cousin!’ And I was for a while. For a whole year I was just known as Me. I wasn’t compared to anyone or told to be better. In fact I was great! Fantastic, even.

I’d made captain of the fencing team, like aunt Morticia. I was first chair in almost all my classes. I had friends of my own and was always asked to hang out. People were interested in me. They wanted me for me. Especially Xavier. God, Xavier. He was drop dead gorgeous. His long hair that framed his face so perfectly. His hazel eyes so full of hope and warmth. The smile that was always on his face when I walked up to him or when we hung out. He made me feel so happy and appreciated. Just loved and seen. I would do anything for him because I know he’d do the same for me!

Or so I thought.

The second that Wednesday showed up to Nevermore, any hopes I had of asking him out or just anything suddenly vanished. Like everyone else in my life, I was soon replaced by her darkening and compelling image. He became so infatuated with her. Our afternoon runs were taken away and replaced with him hanging out with her. He sat through and listened to her crazy theories all day and looked at her like she hung the stars herself. The same way he looked at me once.

My fists clenched my bag and I held back the urge to scream on the spot. Now the one time we were both free was taken away by her again? She wasn’t even a nightshade so that isn’t fair. “Have fun with that. I’ll be by the lake if you feel like I’m worth your time today.” My words seemed to get his attention because he finally looked up from his sketchbook. I caught a glimpse and saw it was an another drawing of Wednesday. He opened his mouth to say something but I walked off before he got the chance to. Or cry. Whichever came first at this point.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun shone directly onto my face as I continued to write down the finishing lyrics to my song. My plan for the day was to hang out with Xavier and show him my new music for my violin. He knew I played an instrument but he didn’t know what it was or that I sang. So I thought it’d be a good time to surprise him! But of course my plans were ruined thanks to Wednesday. Again.

Letting out a grunt of frustration, I threw my pen into the lake. “What’d the pen ever do to you?” My attention turned to Xavier’s voice behind me. I listened to the sound of the leaves crunch and stop before he sat down on my blanket beside me. I didn’t ask him to, but I always found it hard to be upset or angry with him. Peering over my shoulder he asked what I’d been writing. “Just some music. I was gonna go back to my dorm and see how it turned out.” He didn’t need to know I wanted him to go back with me.

“Really? Can I see it?” Hesitation filled my body but I still gave him the notebook. His hands flipped through my pages and the words. I prayed to god he didn’t under Latin. “You never told me you write music.” I shrugged and turned back to the lake. “You never bothered to ask.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

We sat at the lake for a while and just talked. It was nice; Feeling like I got my old friend back. The way he laughed at each joke I made and seemed to be genuinely interested in my topics made me realize how hard I’d fallen for him again. “Speaking of hair-“ He reached out to twirl the white strand in my black head of hair between his fingers. “Did you just decide it was a cool fashion statement or something?” I laughed lightly and shook my head.

“No, no. Back in 6th grade I was doing a science experiment, Y’know the one where you dissect frogs right? I was cutting him open and i just electrocuted myself without realizing it. That’s when I found out I’m like my dad. The whole lightning and shit. But I can do this weird thing with weather too where-“ I paused when I realized I was getting off track. “Anyways. I zapped myself and some shit happened with my hair when I did. It was only this piece though.” Laughing I turned the other way and buried my head into my knees. “I’ve tried to dye it back but it never works. All the other kids would make fun of me and say I’d get cancer or go bald. I dunno why though, that doesn’t make sense.”

What didn’t make sense was that I was basically Trauma dumping on Xavier for no reason. All he asked about was my hair and got some sob story in return. There was silence for a moment. I knew I overshared and he’d think I’m just some attention whore. It took me by surprise when he put his hand on mine, making me turn to face him. “I think it’s cool. Makes you stand out.” The blush that spread across my face was inevitable. Like an idiot I asked: “Really?”

A smile broke out in his face as he nodded. “Do you still wanna go to Jericho? The shuttle leaves in about 20 minuets? We can go to the weathervane and maybe check out that new music store?” My stomach was filled to the brim with butterfly’s, warmth spreading throughout it. Play it cool, play it cool. Don’t freak out. Just say that sounds fun. “Yes! Of course. I’d love to.” I mentally face palmed myself with the joy in my voice. It felt like a movie moment. Was this him asking me out on a date? Xavier finally got the balls to be the one to initiate it? No thoughts were going through my mind as my body leaned closer to his, him doing the same.

I could smell his cologne and feel his breath on my face; A mere 6 inches between my lips and his. Just as mine were to meet his, a phone rang. His phone. He blinked and apologized before picking it up.

“Hello? Enid? Since when did you call me? No, I’m not. She was busy so I’m at the lake, hanging out with-“ Xavier paused as Enid’s voice rose over the line, his brows furrowing as she spoke. I couldn’t hear what was going on. “Yeah, sure. Give me 7-8 minuets and I can. The quad or the courtyard? Mhm, sure.” He lowered his phone and hung up. “What’d Enid call about?” Standing up he began to brush himself off. “Wednesday asked her to call me since she doesn’t ‘want to be a slave to technology’. Said something about her finding a new lead on the monster and to meet her in the nightshades library.”

“But didn’t you earlier?” He shook his head. “No, she needed to do something else and talk to someone.” My lips pursed and watched as he grabbed his sketchbook from beside my bag. “Can we uh- rain check on Jericho?” All the butterflies and warmth my stomach were replaced with dread and insect repellent. “Again?” I muttered. “It’s nothing personal, I just need to-“

“No it never is with you is it? I mean do you even care about anyone or anything other than Wednesday?” The words left my mouth before I could process what I said. “Sorry?” Now I was standing up, arms crossed as I spoke. “Sorry? Oh shut up; Stop playing dumb. We both know you’re not so don’t try to bullshit your way out of this.” He took a step closer to me and looked down, irritation and confusion clouding his eyes. “What’re you talking about? What’s this even coming from? Why’re you getting so worked up about us hanging out?” Scoffing I took a step back from him.

“I’m getting worked up about this because you hang out with her all the time and not me! I’m constantly being ditched and put to the side cause you wanna go waste your time who doesn’t give a single fuck about you!”

“Don’t say that. She does but just act-“

“Acts distant and cold? Stand-offish and uninterested? She’s like that with everyone. What makes you think you’re any different to her? Do you think you’re special or some shit? Wednesday’s been like this her entire life and she’s certainly not going to change for some moron of a dude.” Xavier’s face only showed confusion as I spoke. “Oh come on. Don’t tell me you can’t put two and two together? Wednesday Addams; (Y/n) Addams? How many Addams’s in this school do you know? If you named more, I wouldn’t be surprised since you seem to pay attention to everyone else other than me.” “Not everything is about you (Y/n).” He snapped.

“You’re right. It’s not! It’s always about Wednesday. Everything is. It’s always ‘Oh, have you seen Wednesday? I’m looking for her.’ Or ‘Do you wanna see this new drawing of her? It looks better than the last!’ Anything that comes out of your mouth is about her! Have you ever noticed how you put me next to her? Below, If you will. She plays cello and you draw her. I play violin, but you never bothered to ask because you’re too busy talking about how good she sounds. You go with her to Jericho to get coffee while I’m left behind doing schoolwork. Everywhere I go I’m beneath her. I’m compared to her, I’m belittled because I’m not as edgy or mysterious as she is. My family seems to like her more too. My own father loves her more than me! Can you imagine that, Xavier? Having to live in the shadow of your little cousin because she’s so much better than you at everything? I thought the name I made for myself at Nevermore would stick! I’d have my own friends and interests and not be known as the other Addams girl. I thought that I could get away and have shit of my own! BUT NO. I CAN’T.”

The air around me felt chilly and vast, a small breeze inclining as my voice got louder. “But it’s never going to happen. Everyone will always choose her over me. I’ll always be second to her. And it’s not fair. It’s not. I try to hard at everything. Especially when making friends. I’m almost on my knees trying to get people to approach me but she just has to stand and glare at people and suddenly they’re wrapped around her finger. Like you. You’re just another string waiting to be pulled by her; Following and doing what she says like a lost puppy. You look at her with such admiration and longing in your eyes. Maybe if you turned your head the other way and fixed your eyesight, you’d see that’s how I look at you! If you weren’t so fucking blinded by her borderline manipulative tendencies you’d notice I’m the way with you you are with her.”

My hands were moving with immense exaggeration as I spoke. The feeling of static shooting through my veins when I threw them down to my sides in anger. “Look, I’m sorry. Why don’t we talk about this and-“ A short circuit of lighting extended from my fingers when I held my hand up to him. “This isn’t a two way conversation right now. It’s one where you listen to every word I say because that’s all I’ve ever done for you, especially ever since Wednesday’s gotten here-“

Speak of the devil, and she’ll arrive. Looking to my left I could see her standing a few feet away from us. “I think your feelings for Xavier are getting in the way of our goal, (Y/n).” I deadpanned. “Our goal?” She didn’t answer my question, only asking another one in its place.

“How would your father feel if he knew you were letting your emotions get the better of you?”

“Gee, I dunno. Why don’t you ask him since he was with you early in the nightshade’s library!” She said nothing. “He finally shows up after being on the run again and stops to say hi! Not to his daughter, but his niece.”

“It’s not my fault if Fester approached me and not you.”

“It’s never your fault is it? Nothing ever is. You’re just perfect Wednesday who’s above all others. Especially her cousin who’s done everything in her power to help her with her bullshit conspiracies. I’ve been on your side since day one. Believing in your shit when no one else would. And how do you thank me? By stealing the few people I have In my life away from me. Again and again. It’s a never ending cycle. And I never bother to break it because we’re family, Wednesday.” The overwhelming emotion of anger and hatred died down, the slight breeze fading completely. Now it was just cold and quiet. Water began to drop onto my clothes and belongings. When I looked up I realized It was raining; But only on me. As cliché as it sounds, there was a small storm cloud hovering above my head. Hence the weather thing I was telling Xavier about earlier.

“Do you know what you struggle with, (Y/n?).” Laughing, I faced Wednesday again. “No, but I’d love to hear your piercing insight on it!” “You don’t know when to turn your emotions on and off. You let them consume and confuse you. How you’re just a fool with a slow heart; Putting out love for others only to never get any back.” The rain became heavier as she spoke, each drop hitting harder against my face. “I understand that emotions are a foreign concept for you, Wednesday, but you don’t have a right to talk about mine if you don’t have any.” Is what I’d like to have said. But it isn’t. It was more along the lines of:

“Maybe you’re right. I do love too much because no one has ever given me any. I hope that one day you’ll think about all of the love I’ve given you, and maybe feel generous to reciprocate it.” Turning from her I grabbed my bag off the now drenched blanket and sling it over my bag. “The same goes for you, Vi. When you come to your senses and realize that I have and will still do anything to get a small sliver of your validation or time, my dorm room door will be open.” I meant to passive aggressively hand him his sketchbook back, but it was really just me shoving it into his chest. I didn’t dare look back at the two as I literally stormed off into the forest.

The sun still was shining around me even as I made my way back to the courtyard, through the quad, and up to my dorm. The cloud only got bigger when I was alone in my dorm room. Sitting in my shower I thought. Thought about how Wednesdays’ right. Despite ending up with nothing, I’ll still give everyone else everything I’ve never gotten in hopes someone will one day do the same.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[captain-pheonix]

Currently menstruating, id like to see the TF2 men (or support classes) experience the wild ups and down of mother nature when Reader lashes out at them over something comically stupid and then starts crying dramatically out of guilt for being so mad. Then goes back to happy and normal a moment later. Because i am an emotional wreck when the blood flows and i need an outlet for it. Thank youuu!!! Angle 📐 😇🪽

A/N: I know your pain bbg ❤️ tysm for sending it in Angle! I did a sort of half oneshot half headcannons thing, hope that’s ok, here you are! (Sorry this took a bit, life had been terrible recently)

Warnings: talk of menstruation (duh)

Scout:

- Whenever your on your period he would probably go to Medic for advice and some remedies

- He might think it’s really gross but he knows you can’t really control it after he got it explained to him

- He might notice if something is a little off about you that day

- Maybe by the way you seem annoyed or you trying to fight a fed up expression

- Most likely you would just be hanging out in his room at the base, laying in his bed and Scout drawing in a notebook, chatting with you

“Hey, d’you wanna try drawin’ somethin’? I’ll teach ya!”

“Oh, sure? Why not.”

- While you two are drawing you start having trouble following along with him

- The lines don’t match up with the ones you draw next and you start getting annoyed

- Eventually, you snap and just tear the paper in half

“Why are you such a good artist!? It’s unfair!”

- You get up off the bed and start pacing around, uncontrollably fuming

- After going from one wall to the other, you look back up at Scout’s crestfallen expression, sad kicked puppy eyes with a hint of realization

- The tears start falling and Scout smiles and lets out a little sigh, and beckons you to come sit beside him

“Hey, sweetness. C’mere.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“It’s all good. I get it. Just let me take care of you.”

- Scout presses a kiss to your forehead

Sniper:

- Would likely enjoy it quite a bit if you just wanted a few lazy days with him

- He might go get candy and snacks to take care of you for the week

- He might not fully understand how periods work but he’s probably heard some things

- you two could hang out in his camper and read magazines/listen to music/cuddle

- maybe you start thinking about how you have chores to do and how you’re not doing anything

“Jeez, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just get up and do dishes or something?”

“It’s alright, roo. You have all the time in the world. Just rest.”

“But—I mean c’mon, I have to do something.”

“Well, do ya feel up to it?”

“Uh…no, I’m in a lot of pain, but—“

“So don’t.”

- the feeling that you need to something starts making you feel bad about yourself and you start silently crying and trying to wipe your tears away

- when Sniper notices he gets concerned and wraps his arms around you

“Hey, hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, heh, sorry. Stupid hormones.”

- Sniper just huffs a laugh and keeps hugging you

Demoman:

- ok let’s be real he would offer you some booze for the pain and stuff

- a movie night would work nicely, because demo could probably pass out sometime during it and it would be a calm night

- the characters in the movie start making you angry, but weirdly angry

“Why do we have to watch this? It never ends up well for the main character! This is depressing!”

“Uh..We could watch something else, ya know.”

“WHY AM I SO ANGRY ALL OF A SUDDEN? WHY DO WE HAVE TO WATCH THIS STUPID THING?!”

- Demo turns off the TV

- you start crying after realizing you snapped at him

“Wait—no no I’m sorry.”

“Hey, lad/lass, c’mere.”

- Demo and you end up cuddling and then both passing out on the couch

Spy:

- I feel like he might know a bit about periods

- But it would really gross him out

- At least he might romance and charm you to make you feel better

- 100% get you fine wine and snacks to make you feel special and loved

- Lounging in his smoking room 10/10, might even offer you some of his special cigars or something if you smoke

- Treats you like high royalty

- Probably goes to medic for painkillers and other things to make you feel better

- Totally a chance to learn to dance to some music on the record player in his smoking room

- I feel like making a bunch of mistakes would set you off

“This isn’t working. Why aren’t my feet working? You’re the best teacher there could be, what am I doing so wrong!?”

- You break away from Spy and hide your tears by turning away from him

“Mon Chérie, are you alright?”

- He walks back in front of you to see you crying

“I’m...sorry.”

- Spy gives you a forehead kiss and wraps you in a warm embrace

- 10003939/10 gentleman he rubs your back until you feel better

Heavy:

- Heavy would likely not care at all, growing up with 4 other women for most of his life

- Considering this he would probably be at least a little educated

- Any questions he had would likely be answered by Medic

- I feel like Heavy would be one of the most understanding mercs

- At Heavy’s turn for making dinner, you decide to go help him because you feel like you’ve been lazy all day

- You burn your hand and start cussing wholeheartedly

“Am I just that bad at cooking!? I’m honestly so useless. Why can’t you teach me to be better!?”

- Heavy’s just straight up confused for a second

“Oh..oh no. I’m sorry.”

- tears start falling

“Is ok. Heavy understands.”

- bear hugs and then finishing up dinner <3

Medic:

- Bro has every remedy on hand and definitely tracks it for you

- So he would already know hormonal vs. Actually being mean/sad

- A good scenario might be a lazier day when you just hang out in his lab, and he educates you more on what he’s doing and why

- It starts you feeling like you’re not good enough and that Medic is so much better at his job than you

“And das how it’s done! Fascinating, ja?”

“Yeah. I guess I just wish I could do all this great stuff like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, c’mon, you know everything! You know so much you can just do surgery on someone and everything works out!”

“Well, it’s not that simple,—are you crying?”

- You just nod

“Ah. Come here, mein liebling.”

- gives you hugs and kisses until you’re better 🥰

———————————

Thank you for reading!! Again, I’m so sorry that took so damn long. I’m getting back into writing today!

[k-dokja]

Pretty.

— Reader is a wee bit strange, Riddle has a teensy attachment issue. Female reader, has been with Riddle since their younger days. Also written like a tangent I haven’t reread the thing don’t make me

Riddle is pretty.

You remember thinking that one morning when you sit next to him in class. You can’t focus because last night you’ve been staying up late to study and now you can’t perceive anything but the formulas and how pretty Riddle is.

His eyes sharpen with focus while he scribes down on his notes. He always has such pretty handwriting, you love to have him writing letters for you because you can preserve them forever. Riddle always grumbles but he always does as you ask.

Pretty Riddle with his stray stands of hair falling down and obscuring his vision. You reach up to push them out before he can. He looks at you in surprise, not expecting you to act this fast. Then his cheeks redden, noticing your undivided attention. He hisses, “Focus on class, I’m not helping you later if you forgot the materials.”

He returns to his work after that, pointedly ignoring you. Silly Riddle, you wouldn’t ask him to break a rule for you. It would break his heart along with every other breakable thing within his distance. You wouldn’t want him to get unnecessary grievance, not when the pressure is on his shoulder as is.

You want your Riddle to stay pretty. He’s always prettier when he’s happy.

Riddle is pretty, even with his nose and eyes red.

Bundled up in autumn clothes, he looks ready for a new school year already. But he isn’t the one leaving, you are. Your parents have been mindful enough to stay back while you say your goodbyes with Riddle. It warms your heart to have such caring people around you, even if all you can see now is Riddle.

“You better call often,” he says, adjusting your scarf for what would be the sixth time, “I’ll try to visit when I can, but if I—“

“I’ll miss you.”

His eyes widen and you think he looks prettiest then. With his cheeks crimson and his eyes glassy again, he looks away from you, trying to hold back his emotions. Before you can say anything else, he hugs you close. The force of his skinny arms are strong, stronger than anyone would expect. Except for you, because you know. You have hugged Riddle many times. Never did he do it with this ferocity, but you know it is only the intensity of his feeling.

You hug him back, relishing in the feeling of him in your arms. Your pretty Riddle with his pretty scent, you won’t have neither for a while.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he chokes out.

“I’ll think of you often,” you rub soothing circles on his back and he hugs you tighter.

“And I you.”

He pulls back after a moment then looks at you. You wonder if he’s trying to commit your face to his memories and if he worries that the pictures in his phone won’t suffice. Riddle kisses your hair, softer now after the previous outburst. Maybe he worries your parents would have judgement, but that thought is thrown out when he kisses you again.

Hard and bruising, but quick enough to not draw the looks of strangers. His lips part in shock when he retreats, not expecting himself to have pulled that stunt. “My apologies, I…”

You kiss him, on the cheek this time, even if your lips crave for his again. “Let’s meet again, soon,” you silence out any of his thoughts about regret then step away from him.

Silly Riddle, he doesn’t know how pretty he is when he looks like that. He shouldn’t let shame overwhelm him. His memories of you should only be happy, you won’t have it otherwise.

Riddle is pretty, beaming at you from across the yard and brightening when he sees you.

He has promised to visit. He always keeps his promises. Your college is not that far from his and if anything, teleportation is always an option. Never mind the specifics, all that matters is that Riddle is here and he’s happy. Happier when you tackles him with a hug, he accepts you like you’re always meant to be there in his arms.

“Riddle!”

“Hi,” he says, nose buried into the crook of your next, “it’s nice to be with you again.”

“It’s nice for me too,” you cling to him and he shows no opposition to your actions.

Pretty Riddle. Hair nice and soft, he smells prettier than he has been before. You’ve missed him, even with the calls and texts. Nothing can ever replace having him with you. “You should quit Night Raven College and be here with me.”

He laughs. He doesn’t know because you smile when you proposed the idea, but you always meant it. Meant every word when you said you want to be with him forever, meant every feeling when you professed to him.

Maybe he does and he doesn’t mind. Why else would he keep you for this long?

Riddle rarely lets go of your hand for the duration of his stay. You like the proximity, but worry that he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets you go for too long. Silly Riddle, there is no one else you’d want to be with other than him. You never want to worry him and you never stay away for long enough to make him frown.

Pretty as he is then, he’s prettier when he’s happy. You always want your Riddle the best he can be.

Riddle is pretty, on his knee and staring up at you.

You can see it in his eyes, everything you wanted from Riddle and more. Riddle would do anything for you, anything and everything. All you have to do is say yes.

The ring shines a pretty ruby red, pretty like his hair but hard where it is soft. You don’t remember what you said in answer, but Riddle has never been prettier before. When he slides the ring on your finger, all you can see is him. His mouth is moving but you can’t hear the words, you feel him holding you but you can’t sense the warmth.

All that echoes in your head is that you’ll be his, fully and completely. When people speak of you, they’ll call you with his name. Where he ends will be where you begin and it is all and everything that you want from him. Even if he doesn’t promise you a wedding, you’d want your pretty Riddle.

As long as he’s yours and happy, you care for little else. But Riddle is a stickler for rules and traditions. He’d want the wedding, the cake, the dance, and the party. Preparations take long days and long hours before anything is set in stone. You’re impatient, you want to be Riddle’s.

But you won’t voice those thoughts because he looks so happy to prepare. When he smiles at you, nought else seems to matter. Long as the outcome is inevitable, you have no reason to complain.

After all, there is only one and final ending.

Riddle is pretty, pretty in white when the bells toll.

Pretty forever and pretty for you.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

snapshot.

summary: Deidara meets a superfan

warnings: Smut, 18+, rough sex, choking, pool sex, reader has a bit of a description, reader is complex, mentions of killing

word count: 6.9k

a/n: I had this idea shortly after conceptualizing Apprentice and while I was, like 70 or 80% done with that fic. And now we have this fucking 7k monster. I consider this to be a spiritual successor to Apprentice, maybe a oppositional series of events even? Idk, you decide lol. There are even some similar words and wordy allusions that you may catch haha. Hope you enjoy!

read on ao3 here. (recommended for extra notes)

Kisame’s wicked cackles reverberated across the cavern walls, summoned from the pit of his stomach; Deidara was sure he would pass out sooner rather than later. 

“It seems,” Pain began, eyeing the sculpture in the center of the room, “you have an admirer, Deidara.” 

Deidara’s brow twitched as a blush snuck across his face. His eyes roved over the sculpture ― the naked sculpture.

Tobi threw up his hands in laudation. “It’s so pretty! ”

Kisame laughed harder ― if it was possible. 

“I have taken it upon myself to apologize to (Y/n),” Pain continued over the cackling. “She’s one of our main contributors, after all; we would be amiss to upset her.” 

“When …” Deidara’s brow held a life of its own, “... did she send this?”

“No clue; I had Kisame retrieve it,” Pain explained. “Apparently, we sent the wrong member to entertain her.”

Kisame’s hand hugged the wall. “You’re damn right! ” 

It was as subtle a joke as could be achieved by Pain and it still wasn’t funny. Deidara’s eyes had not once left the sculpture since Pain had signaled for his attendance, saying it was of the utmost importance he appeared. One arm yawned out to the sky while the other snaked around and brushed against the meat of the breasts ― your breasts. One leg stuck out before the other, the fat of the thigh attached concealing the womanhood. 

Your womanhood. 

Both futile attempts to afford the piece some decency. Futile, Deidara guessed, was the point. It was coquetry. A shameless attempt at flirtation on your part. 

And just in case Deidara was too dense to get the message, you’d taken it upon yourself to leave him one, attached to the foot of the sculpture’s dais:

Hello! Please deliver to Deidara. Thank you.  

It even had a smiley face after the period.

Deidara balled his fist. 

What. The. Fuck.

“(Y/n) must be an incredibly beautiful woman!” Tobi admired the piece with fascination, a sparkling heart encasing his eyehole. “Look at the face, and the hips, and the feet ― ”

“Tobi!” Deidara was beet red. “Shut the hell up!” 

“Deidara,” Pain spoke again, unfazed by the cacophony. “I’m sure you’ll be undertaking a journey west? Since (Y/n) has clearly requested you specifically.”

Deidara’s eyes yo-yoed between their leader and the monstrosity of the naked sculpture. He debated it. Of course, all while fantasizing about shoving explosives down the laughing fishman’s throat and turning him into a pile of sardines. 

Tobi can taste one himself, while I’m at it.  

“What?” Irritation bit Deidara’s tone. “We’re fucking prostitutes now?” 

Pain raised holographic brows. “If it ensures peace, then yes.”

Deidara’s mouth dropped. The audacity of it all. How much was he expected to take? 

“We’re waiting, Deidara.”

A pause. He was no fool. This wasn’t a request, it was an expectation. 

“Fine,” Deidara sighed irritably. “I’ll go, all right?”

“You better,” Kisame said, at last recovering from his fit. “Better get those high heels out and start walking the streets, too!”

Deidara was ready to draw blood ― 

“No need to be crude, Kisame,” Pain’s backdropped against another fit of raucous laughter. 

Says the man who puts a naked STATUE in the room.

“ Honestly, ” Kakuzu spat. “Do the rest of us have to be here for this?” 

“I second that!” Hidan said with relief, “Finally, something we can agree on. ”

“Of course,” Pain said. “You were here in the event Deidara tried to refuse.”

Deidara ignored them all. He gave the sculpture one more scan before swallowing dry and awaiting the end of the call. He could not believe your gall. You were so … brazen . A simple love letter couldn’t have sufficed? No? A naked ― What the fuck was the matter with you?

Still, he was … intrigued. Curiosity was a hooking finger, beckoning him forth. Was that really … your body? Your lips? Your thighs? Your …

Deidara swallowed dry again, his tongue sticking to the top of his palate.

He’d go to the village and put an end to your games. 

And maybe …

He wouldn’t let himself go there ― even if his treacherous mind was wandering already.

<<<>>>

You sat in your museum of sculptures, head tilted up against the gods you had crafted.

The door creaked open.

“I just received Pain’s crow,” your assistant’s voice rang. “Deidara should arrive in another day or so.” 

Stars were in your eyes but you kept your back to her. “Great!”

Your grand plan relied on whether or not Pain, mysterious leader of the Akatsuki, was morally bankrupt enough to hoe out his members. At any point you could’ve been rejected with your sculpture returned swiftly to you. But it worked. You were thrilled. The first part of the plan had succeeded. 

You were going to see him again.

Your assistant’s footsteps tapped repeatedly over the polish floors upon which you now sat. 

“Hmm.” Doubt deflated some of your enthusiasm. “Do you think it was effective enough? You know, for him?”

Your assistant huffed incredulously. “What? Just because Deidara’s a shinobi means he’s immune to pussy? C’mon. You’re not one of those types that thinks all shinobi are noble and stone-faced, are you, (Y/n)-sama?”

  As if. You guffawed. Nobility wasn’t the issue; hundreds of people scoured the red light districts for carnal game. You told your assistant as such. 

“At least seventy percent are shinobi searching for quick thrills,” You joked. “If my math’s correct, anyway. It could be higher. And I know any one of them would be more than happy if a girl simply threw herself at them without need for reimbursement. But still …” You trailed, gaze tailing down the hardened clay of a kimono-garbed sculpture. “I only wondered. It’s been a long time since … I don’t know how dedicated he is to his little terrorist group, is all. He might not be as amused.”

“You answered your own question, ma’am,” your assistant said. “And even if he wasn’t a shinobi, he’s a man. It’ll go down without a hitch! You worry too much.”

You nodded. She was right: despite the years, you wanted to speak to Deidara in his language. Art. How could he resist such an enticement? How could any man, but especially Deidara, due to the manner in which you had sent your little gift. “Okay. Part one of the plan: Complete!”

“What’s the rest of the plan exactly?” You heard the pat, pat, pat and knew from your many years with your assistant that she was thumping her clipboard against her head. “Dinner? Walk on the beach? Or just … Fucking?”

Your smile was evil. “Yes.” 

You held Deidara in your mind’s palm. Blonde hair, gorgeous face .. . One of the most admired artists in Iwakagure ― no, the most. For  could rival Deidara? Even your knees wobbled in the face of his raw talent, even years later. He was still revered in the art community. Of course, his name grew to possess more notoriety than reverence when he started blowing up things ― and people. But, hey everyone was flawed. 

It was only when he went rogue and abandoned the village did you start your own search for him. Years passed and then … reports of a long-haired, blonde shinobi with profound arsonry acuity. Rogue. Affinity for birds.

Bingo. 

Your giggle was shamelessly girlish. “I’d love to woo him.”

Your assistant chuckled. “Aaand you’re not the slightest bit afraid of him? I mean, with all respect, (Y/n)-sama, he’s a criminal. He’s an arsonist. ” 

You licked your lips. “Love me a bad boy.”

“Right,” she said with a chuckle. “Forget I said anything.” 

“I will. Now, let’s get ready.”

<<<>>>

“We’re going to see the girl with the pretty feet, aren’t we, Senpai?” 

“I told you to shut your mouth, Tobi.” 

Deidara’s taller partner buoyed from foot to foot as he tailed behind. Deidara didn’t want to think about your body ― your incredibly artful body, artful in more ways than one … 

The sun crept from the sky as it vivified the color of peachskin. Deidara’s eyes darted hither-thither, collecting information. It was all he could do to not summon one of his explosive birds and fly over this entire, forgotten village. The urge to set it ablaze and go home was immense. A part of him had wanted to make such an entrance, but prudency would never allow it. 

Nor would Leader.

Deidara turned back to Tobi just in time to see him pose, a hand visoring his visible eye while the other landed on his hip. 

“Leader said the pretty naked lady would have someone waiting for us,” Tobi said. 

“Hm,” Deidara said. It was true; they would wait for someone to escort them to you. Until then, they remained lost in one of the village’s districts. The streets were alive with noise and peopled with busy folk. Deidara could tell the amount of businesses actually open were sparse.  Pain had called you one of their main contributors … She must be a big wig to have people doing her dirty work for her. Just who were you? And how were you so familiar with him to send such a thing to the Akatsuki headquarters? 

And if you were so rich, why did you squalor in the dirt with the likes of those in this village?

Thoughts bubbled in the back of Deidara’s mind― 

“Hey …!” 

Outside of a food stall a woman eyed them, holding a curtain back with manicured nails.

Bingo . 

“Tobi,” Deidara gestured. “C’mon.” 

“Okay, senpai!” 

Deidara neared the food stall.

The woman ticked her head to the side with a smile. “Enjoy your gift?”

Pink colored Deidara’s cheeks.

“So, you’re escorting us, right?”

The woman backed away to admit them into the food stall, where the people inside, dining on bowls of ramen and mackerel were too engrossed in their meals to notice the cloaked men enter. 

“You got me,” she winked. “C’mon.”

The woman led them behind the bar, where they slinked through the backdoor into the alley. 

“Don’t need anyone asking questions about the cloaks,” she reasoned. “Surprised you didn’t think of that, Oh Great Deidara of Iwakagure.”

“Of course I did!” Deidara said. “I look stupid to you?”

“No,” the woman’s eyes roamed on Deidara now. “You look cute . My mistress really didn’t lie …” 

Deidara averted his gaze as the woman snickered. Tobi gawked. 

“Does lady think Tobi’s cute, too?” 

“Uh,” she blinked. “Sure.” 

Tobi twirled with a squeal. Deidara rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever,” Deidara said. “Just take us to meet her, all right?”

“Sure …” the woman said. 

They traveled through as street lights blared to life, the sky a bruising purple as evening descended.

“I only wanted us in there to help us blend in a bit,” she guided them through the streets. “I hope it wasn’t too troublesome getting here.” 

“We can care for ourselves,” Deidara said, prickly. 

“You don’t have to be so defensive,” the woman said. “I’m just making conversation.”

“I said don’t worry about it,” Deidara snapped. “So … who is this woman? This mistress of yours?” 

“I’m one of her many assistants, yeah,” the woman said, leading them down a dark street, made darker by the light of day dying faster. “I started working for her years ago. I was so amazed by her art and so intimidated by her talent, I didn’t think she’d accept me. But, surprise surprise.”

“Yeah? So how she so rich? She sell her art?”

“Exactly! People come from all over the world to see her exhibits. She brings so much tourism to this ragtag village. She doesn’t even keep her wealth to herself; she donates so much. She should be much richer than she is! She’s a saint, really.”

So she donates to the Akatsuki, the deadpan of the thought laid flat in his mind. Deidara was silent, tailing shortly behind her. Some saint.

“You called me Deidara of Iwakagure.”

“ … Yes, I suppose I did.”

“So … Your mistress … she knows where I’m from.”

The woman was silent now as she led Deidara and Tobi down street steps to a quieter street, nearly bereft of people beside the occasional deadbeat smoker. 

“She from there, too?” 

Deidara went unanswered. 

Hm, so I’m on to something, Deidara noticed the buildings growing taller, treeing up as the raucous of the village slipped away. They traveled further south. Maybe Pain’s got this wrong; maybe this girl’s a fucking black widow and wants revenge on me for something. Figures, he’s sure he’s broken a few hearts in the past he’d long since forgotten about. But then … Why would she donate so much money to our organization? She clearly believes in it.

“We’re here,” the woman-assistant said.

Deidara raised his head ― and kept raising it. 

Shit . 

The mansion was immaculate, easily the tallest of all of its sisters. Its main building was flanked by towers with onioned tips and was encased in a giant garden, all of it shielded by a surrounding wall. 

Deidara stared, bug-eyed.

The doors to the gate’s entrance burst open and a gaggle of girls filed through. 

“They’re here ―!” 

“Ooh~! there’s two of ‘em!” 

“Mistress will be so pleased!” 

Girls stood star-eyed at Deidara while more hugged themselves to Tobi’s arms. 

“Tobi likes pretty girls!”

“We’ll entertain the other one,” the woman-assistant said with a wink. “You just follow us.”

The woman-assistant led them in where the cult of girls drove Tobi away laughing and giggling. 

“This way,” the woman said. 

Deidara followed her, looking around. From the inside, the mansion opened up like some grand palace from myth, folkloric and mysterious. Columns shouldered the brunt of a ceiling that raised into the darkness. The floors were illustrated scenes from what Deidara recognized as actual myths. Valiant samurais rescued princesses with flaring kimonos, dragons ribboned down hallways. The scenes on the walls diverged from the ones of nobility beneath them, were lavish with depictions of wild courtesans and … 

Deidara blushed. 

Begrudgingly, he had to admit you did have taste; the art was a lot, but wove together into one cohesive masterpiece. The hallways the assistant led him down were flanked by vases winking with sheen and overflowed with bell flowers, roses, sunflowers. The hallway widened into a foyer. Something winked in Deidara’s peripheral and when he looked upward saw that the ceiling domed into a orb of glass, giving way to the first few blink of stars. 

He had entered the lion’s den for sure.

“ Deidara … ” 

The sirenic voice compelled his head to a foyer alcove where a figure shrouded the threshold. 

His eyes widened. 

(E/c) eyes glittered at him. Long legs supported swaying hips. Elegant cleavage sinking into a familiar mound of breasts. Delicate hands, hickey-worthy neck … 

And lovely ― and lovely … 

Inwardly, he sighed, defeated.

Feet.  

The naked sculpture colored Deidara’s memory. 

“Deidara!” You parroted in awe. Your expression shifted as you came to smolder at him. “In the flesh. And just in time for dinner.”

Your kimono waterfalled as you left the alcove. Deidara gulped, speechless as you sauntered to him.

“It ―” Deidara’s cheeks grew hot. “It really is you …” 

“It really is me …” 

Your woman-assistant's eyes tennis-balled between you and Deidara before bowing respectfully. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” 

She hurried away down a different alcove. 

Deidara shook his head in a desperate attempt to reclaim his senses. Fucking hell, Dei, get a grip.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “I ―”

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” You began to turn, “Let me show you ―”

“Wait, I think we should discuss monetary terms first,” Deidara said in a futile attempt to hold some ground over the woman. 

“Hm?” You blinked. “Didn’t your leader explain things to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The money comes after the evening,” you winked at him. “Of course.” 

Pain, you fucking ― 

“Deidara …” You revered, pulling the sleeve of your kimono back over your shoulder. “Before dinner, I would love for you to see the rest of my work.” 

“Your,” Deidara deadpanned, blinking, “work?”

“Yes,” You smirked at him. “You enjoyed the piece I already had you review, I presume?” 

Deidara fought to keep things on the issue at hand, but his eyes grew preoccupied with the twinkle in yours. The sky above the two of you had plunged into a chief darkness. Candles flared to life to douse the hall in tangerine light. 

Deidara turned a blind eye to it. “Your assistant called me Deidara of Iwakagure.” 

You eyed him. “Did she …?” you said coyly. “I’m glad she didn’t try and call you anything else; she’s got a mouth on her.”

“How do you know me?” 

You shied away. Your head dipped. Deidara tried to ignore the cuteness of it all. 

Focus, damnit.

“I’m guessing you’re from Iwagakure, too?” Deidara pressed. “What are you playing at?” 

You took your time. “Yeah, Deidara, we have a village in common.” You began to walk, crossing the columns to circle him. “Do you remember the underground competitions that used to be held there?” 

“Hm,” Deidara recalled and relished in the ego trip it afforded him. Dark rooms. Rowdy spectators circled around art pieces under makeshift stage lights like cavemen around fire. It was before he left the Iwagakure, when he was still itching to engage in the village’s indie art scene before growing bored of the whole thing. “I won most of them.” 

“I used to show up early and wait for you to showcase your things,” You glazed with memory. “You were always my favorite.” 

Deidara smirked. “Hm, naturally. So you’re, what, some kind of superfan Not like I’m surprised, but …”

You thread past a column to scoop up a candle holder. 

“You could say that,” you said. I have something to show you, if you follow me.”

He obliged, curiosity hooking him with a second finger. Candle flame lit like thin clovers to ward off the darkness. The flames illuminated the sway of your hips as he trailed. The sleeve of your kimono slipped past your shoulder again, revealing the skin of your neck and shoulder pad to him …

Why am I even noticing? 

You brought him to a room hidden behind a set of rectangular doors.

“This is where I keep them.” 

You pushed the doors open with a strength Deidara wouldn’t have expected. 

Deidara entered ― and stopped.

It was a museum of art; animal pieces blazed his vision; exotic birds in flight, elegant cranes, all shaded and hued with masterful care and, if Deidara hadn’t been who he was, he wouldn’t have been able to recognize them as pieces done with clay. There were apricot-colored foxes, a dragon head amongst a dragon bust. Deidara recognized a few self sculptures in the forest of pieces. Obscure structures too abstract to be assigned to names dotted space, esoteric symbols eluding even him …

“You inspired me to create my own art,” You explained as he gawked. You inched to him and brazenly took his hand in yours.

Deidara jumped from the sudden contact and found your pretty face in the dim light. Stop … stop. A part of him wanted to summon a tongue to taste the salt on your palm. 

“It’s how I’ve made my money,” you continued as you tugged him along the aisles of work like an excited child.

“So you’re that kind of fan,” Deidara said as he recovered. And, what do you want from me?” he chuckled in disbelief, “My critique?”

“Of course.” 

He wasn’t expecting an honest answer forthright. Sincerely, he roved eyes over your work. 

“Hm, well …” he approached one, taking inventory of it head to foot. “Give me the candle.”

You obeyed.

“You’ve got a great understanding of color, I’ll give you that,” Deidara examined. “Painting can be messy, especially on clay ― and honestly so many artists use colors so … bluntly; it makes the whole thing come off as garish.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He laughed at that. “Hm! … You’ve got a great eye. And I don’t hand out compliments easily.” He raised the candle to illuminate another sculpture. “How long did this one take you?” 

“Five weeks,” You answered before chuckling somewhere behind him. “It’s funny, I sketched and re-sketched this one so many times, it was technically seven weeks.”

“A perfectionist. I like that.” 

Deidara found himself smiling. Rarely did he get to talk to someone about art or its many processes. Deidara thought of Sasori and was touched with a tinge of respect for his fallen partner. But, of course, they’re philosophies so often chafed against one another. But you … An image of him helping you craft one of your pieces came to his mind: his hands guiding yours over unsophisticated clay, paint dashing your collarbone, maybe on your lips … 

“Deidara …?”

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts, only for him to realize you were now in front of him. 

“We could talk about this more over dinner.” 

Your hands grazed his forearms and for some reason he didn’t pull away. The alluring scent of your perfume flirted up his nose. 

Deidara’s cock twitched; he kicked himself inwardly. What was he? A fucking teenage boy? He had half of a mind to shove you away, end this … whatever this was.

But none of that happened. Instead, he agreed. And, taking his hand again with fingers threaded through his, you led him out of your museum. 

<<<>>>

You let him to the roof of one of your buildings, where moonlight bestowed diamonds over the still waters of your pool and the dinner table waited, illuminated by more candles. 

“You’re a real hot shot now, aren’t you?” Deidara said.

You blushed as he surveyed dinner. “Is it too much?” 

“Nah, if anything it’s just the artist in you dying to come out,” he shrugged. “I respect that.”

You moved to take a seat, Deidara following you. He stopped you, pulling out the chair for you. 

You sank to your chair with a mixture of surprise and thrill. “What a gentleman. ”

“Just showing my respect, is all.” 

You snapped your fingers and two waiters appeared to kneel before you, plates of food in hand. 

Deidara did a double-take. “Wow.”

The waiters displayed the food and took their leave. His favorite: bakudan.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” Deidara said.

“Yeah.”

“Hm …” he could not pretend as though he was not impressed, but he could try as he took his seat.

He remembered the art shows in Iwagakure. You were always there? Did he ever see you? Even if he had, you would’ve been little more than a nobody to him, another sycophant he rightfully deserved amongst a herd of fawns and nothing more. You’re telling me all that time … I had a groupie groupie?

“Hey,” he said. “Remember when you said you used to attend my showcases.”

You lowered your fork to raise your brows. “I remember ten minutes ago, yeah.”

Deidara’s own brow twitched. Cheeky cunt . Then kicked himself; he didn’t want to think about your cunt. He watched your tongue swipe your plump lower lip ― then kicked himself again. 

“Why didn’t you ever try to talk to me?” Deidara asked. “I mean,” he leaned back in his chair, dangling his fork, “not like I needed any encouragement, even back then, but what gives? If you were such a fan ―”

“I was shy, back then …” You said. You toyed with your food. You had turned bashful, like a schoolgirl. “Still am, to be honest.”

He scoffed. “Hm! Says the woman who sends naked sculptures of herself to people.” 

You waved your fork. “What can I say? You bring out the wild girl in me,” The glint in your eye turned seductive. “Always have …”

Deidara gulped. What did that mean? You play with yourself with me in mind? Is that it?

Thinking that was another mistake;  images of you sieved into his mind. Sweet, feminine hands sinking in between the softness of your thighs, fingers grazing your wet lips to ... 

What did you smell like? Did you smell as good there as you did everywhere else? 

He shook his head. Fuck . 

“So you’re telling me,” Deidara said just to say something, “you have absolutely no issue with what I do.” 

“I don’t know,” You coquetted. “What do you do?”

“Don’t play coy . You contacted Akatsuki. You know damn well what I mean.” 

You were silent. 

“Killing people,” Deidara said. “Blowing them to smithereens. Kidnapping. The gods know what else. You’re cool with all that?”

Your manicured hand wrapped around your wine glass. You raised it, but before bringing it to your lips: 

“Birds of a feather.” 

You drank. 

What? 

“Come again?” 

You smacked your lips. “You’re not the only one who’s killed a few.” 

A pause. You set aside your drink before challenging his gaze. 

“Care to elaborate?” he asked. 

“I had an assistant once,” you began. “She told me she was desperate for a job, but you wouldn’t know by the run of her mouth. She complained, took off without warning. But then it turned out she had sticky fingers; she tried to steal one of my pieces. I’d had enough.” You leaned over the table as though you feared Deidara wouldn’t hear. “So I killed her. Used her for my piece after the last.”

“And,” Deidara swallowed, “your current girl …”

“You’ve already met her,” you said. “She’s mouthy, too ― but not to me.” 

You had killed, not only that ― encased a girl inside your work. She had wanted your art, and she had gotten her wish. 

“That’s …” Deidara trailed. “... Amazing.”

You smiled. “So, you see, I have no problem with what you do. Who am I to judge, am I right?” 

“Do the villagers judge you?”

“This village has seen enough strife for a lifetime,” You said. “I don’t think they’d mind learning about indiscretion ― especially if they knew why I killed her.”

Deidara raised an eyebrow. “So you donate bundles of cash to clear your conscience?”

“My conscience is clear,” You said. “People shouldn’t have to suffer any more than they already do. I want this village to prospect. I donate because I want to.” You popped a piece of food into your mouth. “You never answered me, by the way.”

“About what?” 

“The sculpture,” Your eyes narrowed with coquetry again, a glint especially bright and beautiful in your eye with aid from the moonlight. “Did you like it?” 

Deidara’s heart beat especially loud in his ears ― and this time he didn’t kick himself for it. 

“... Yeah,” he relented. “Yeah, I liked it.” 

“And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of your work, Deidara,” You raised to leave your seat. “Why don’t you show me something?” 

Deidara’s eyes widened. Far was he ever from an opportunity to flex his brilliance, especially on someone so appreciative ― so 

deserving. 

“Sure!”

Enthusiasm straightened your shoulders. “Really? I mean, If you need ―”

“I don’t need anything,” he said, waving you away. “Just stand back!” 

You obeyed, eyes bright from the contagion of his excitement. So aptly memorized did he have the hand signs, Deidara didn’t care to glance at them. Instead, he watched you try to futilely follow his movements. 

<<<>>>

Clay spilled like milk from mouths on Deidara’s hands to form into creatures before your eyes ― you blinked furiously and each time you did another creature was born; small dragons, spherical creatures with eyes, birds, and one, growing piece of clay, raising meters above the ground. It looked like a snowman to you but, knowing Deidara, it was leagues more dangerous. 

You stepped back, overwhelmed by the breadth of Deidara’s creation, Deidara’s artistry . 

One of Deidara’s clay birds flapped its wings, swerved in the air and landed gracefully on the cliff of your shoulder. 

“So,” Deidara’s smirk brightened his face and sent a throb to your nether regions, “what do you think?” 

What do I think? You pet the bird’s clay-made wing. What do I think?  

You took a step. The roof crowded with his creatures to dab white ivory among the encroaching night. 

Surely, it helped being a ninja; Deidara possessed powers you could only dream of understanding. Still. Your mouth hung agape at the amount of things he could spring alive from the literal palms of his hand. Your eyes followed up at his bigger piece, more of a monument to you than a mound of clay. 

He’s a god. A god among men. A god of art.

“Hm!” 

Poof.

You startled. Some of the pieces began disappearing. They left the roof choking with smoke until only his large, snowman-like piece remained. 

“I see you’ve been stunned into silence by my art,” Deidara said. 

You didn’t reply, only began to step forward. 

“Hm!” Deidara looked away, crossed his arms. “It’s only natural, after all, to have your breath taken away by my artiste.” 

Another step. Another. 

“I’m sure our leader didn’t even tell you what I’m capable of.”

Another. 

“It’s a good thing, too ―” 

You were running now. 

“It would’ve spoiled the surprise ―” 

You pounced on Deidara. He cried out but you barely heard it as the force propelled you both backward, falling hard and fast into the swimming pool. 

<<<>>>

Bubbles spilled from Deidara’s mouth. He could feel your hands on him, somewhere, everywhere ― 

He looked to the surface of the water and swam toward it. He could not feel your hands anymore.

He came up for air, looking around for you. 

“(Y/n)!” 

Then you emerged ― but he had no time to register it as your arms came around him. You pulled him down toward you, your lips crashing into his in a wet kiss. 

“Mm …!” 

Your tongue ran over the hard shell of his palate. Your hands held his cheeks. Your legs hooked around his waist to trap him between your thighs.

“That was ― mm ― the most ― mm ― amazing thing I’ve ever ― mm! ― seen!”

Deidara’s hands found you ― and immediately met skin; your kimono, having not been able to withstand the pull of the water, slid dangerously past your shoulders, the folds opened wide so he could feel the full cushion of your breasts against him. 

Oh, fuck.

Just as he began to play with your tongue, you broke away.

You faced him with heavy-lidded eyes, drops of water falling from your abused lips. 

“Let me make good on my promises to Pain,” Your hands hooked behind his neck. 

“Wha ― what?”

“Fuck me, Deidara,” Your voice was thick with lust. “I told him the quantity of my donation was completely dependent on how hard you fucked me. It would be an honor to be fucked by such an amazing artist!” 

That sent something to his dick. 

The surprise dissipated. He smirked. “Really …? Is that so …” 

He gripped your throat and hoisted you above him. He heard you gasp and tightened his grip, feeling the twitch of his cock in response to the  victimized sound. 

“Beg for it,” he ordered.

“ Oh … ” You whimpered. Your head fell back as Deidara’s hand served as a brace. 

He reached downward and tugged at the wet bow of your kimono. He yanked it and reveled in it coming apart to reveal the rest of you.

“ Beg. For me .”

Everything you did and had done was a plea for him, he admitted, but the idea of you begging vocally made him painfully hard. His eyes drank in your naked form still half submerged in the water. Wet tits in his face. A droplet of water fell away from a nipple. 

“Please …” came your breathless voice. “Please, fuck me ― oh … ” 

He thumbed at the tempting nipple, pert and so responsive to his touch. 

“ Nothing underneath, ” he feigned chastisement, pinching the nipple between his fingers. “Fucking slut .” 

He tightened his grip twofold and was pleasantly surprised with the moan you rewarded him with. The strict fit of his pants was becoming too much to bear. You jerked in his hold, tits jiggling in his face. 

“ Please, fuck me, Deidara!” 

Satisfied, He set you down and watched you bounce in the water before yanking you forward. He pressed his mouth against yours once again. You reached for him to no avail; he spun you, your back now pressed hard against the side of the pool. He released your mouth to dabble kisses at your neck, biting at pieces of skin. 

“ Fuck …!” You arched and Deidara fell into the dip of your curve.

You gripped his hand to bring it to your face. He stopped kissing you to look at what you had in mind, his tongue still present at his palm. 

Your lips traced his palm and began to kiss the tongue there. 

“Mmm …”

Deidara laughed as you tongue-kissed his hand. “You really are a fucking weirdo, aren’t you?”

The tongue slithered over your own. You released a moan and closed your mouth over the tongue, a flushed red tainting your cheeks. Your hand pressed behind the back of his hand, forcing it to deepen the kiss, to nibble at his tongue. Deidara hitched a breath. You sucked it further into your mouth. 

“ Ah ― y … you wanna suck on something so badly …” Deidara murmured. “MaybeI should give you something more legit, hm …”

You mewled in approval. His tongue retreated from your mouth and he felt a twinge of triumph when you gasped for air. He approached you. A hand ghosted over your neck before ramming you hard against the wall of the pool, the force with which he’d done it so hard he was sure its cement edge imprinted on your upper back. With his other hand he tugged his trousers down. 

You met his eyes.

“Take a deep breath.” 

And he plunged you into the water.

He looked down, watched the water dance as your squiggly reflection gripped his cock and fit it into your mouth. 

Deidara groaned. His head fell back as you hollowed your cheeks and took him in. The water did nothing to stall your mouth; you bobbed your head, stroking what couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

Deidara steadied himself with a hand at the pool’s edge, entranced by how your tongue rolled back to lick his head each time you pulled away, only to take him deep into the back of your throat when pulling in ― 

“ Nargh …! ” 

A hand palmed at his balls while another tightened around his cock. Deidara reached for your head in the water to thread fingers into your head and force you harder onto his cock. 

“ Aah … shit! ” He wanted you to choke on it. He wanted to own your mouth. 

And apparently you wanted that, too; you popped him from your mouth a few times. You hadn’t come up for air once since he’d submerged you, his cock now your only business. He yanked your head up. He forced a kiss, the taste of himself in your mouth driving him mad.

“Enjoying dinner, I see, hm, hah …” he quipped, eyes heavy on your hand still stroking his cock. “What a pro. ” 

“Only for you, Deidara-senpai. ”

You hand abandoned his cock and you licked him off your palm. Without his help you went under, fitting his cock in your mouth a second time. Deidara kept your hair from your mouth as you sucked him. His cockhead hit the back of your throat and, oh , you didn’t choke, only took more, more. Greedy cunt. 

He imagined you practicing this for him, only for him, your senpai. Your mouth hungering for what wasn’t truly there. Deidara squeezed eyes shut; close, close. You were sucking his cock as though his was the only one in the world, worshiping with your mouth and tongue. He imagined your lungs desperate for air, screaming for them, yet your mouth too transfixed to care. 

A fucking servant for him, obedient to his cock. 

Deidara’s cock twitched. His groan was low and rumbling as he spilled his seed into your willing mouth. You sucked hard, jerked him into your mouth. Your mouth slicked with his cum and grew impossibly warm. Saliva and his own seed coated his cock. 

“Aaah-ha- ahh …! ” 

He scalped you as he emptied into your mouth, cum guzzling down your throat.

At last, you popped him from your mouth and emerged before him, mouth and lips thoroughly abused.

Deidara’s gaze cast down on you. He caught his breath in the seconds absent of words. 

“I could use a girl like you,” Deidara exhaled. 

You popped your lips, eyes dreamy and narrow. “I think you just did,”

“Hm! An apprenticeship, then?”

You recovered immediately. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He smirked at his own prospect and pulled you to him. “C’mere.”

He emerged from the pool before helping you follow suit. He removed his black fishnet shirt and flung it away. He drank you in. Naked, in the flesh ― and wet, right when he thought you couldn’t be improved upon.

You settled atop the dinner table and waited for him. Deidara came to you.

“Spread those legs.” 

 You acquiesced. He licked his lips at the sight of your puffy, glistening cunt.

“You wouldn’t be my first,” You said, “but you’ll be my last.”

He slotted into the space you afforded him. He caressed your vulva before giving it a firm slap. You yelped and his lip upturned at the sound. He slid a finger between your folds, encouraged by your appreciative mewls. 

He gripped the fat of your cheeks and forced you to look at him and not his adventurous fingers. 

“Your best. ” 

You hooked your legs behind him as he geared his cock grazed your folds ― 

And thought he might cum just from the sound of your drawn out moan when he slid inside you. 

He bucked from instinct, the firm grip of your twat clouding his senses. Again he went for your throat, the appendage becoming its permanent resting place. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” Deidara breathed out, thrusting hard. “Leader’s gonna get his fucking money’s worth …” 

Hands gripped his wrists tight as he began to fuck you, the table wobbling slightly underneath your mewling body. 

“Yes …! Ye―Yes, oh!” You clung to him, Deidara’s hands upholding you. “ Fuc ― oh, Yes! I owe Pain my life ― oh! ” 

He released your throat just to bite at it. He sunk his teeth into your skin while his hands committed to making scarlet red prints against your ass.

“ Fuck, you’re ―” Deidara stammered. The feel of your cunt swallowing him was too much. He recalled Kisame’s threat to fuck you himself. Not on your life, sharkman . And he felt himself thrust hard just to affirm you were his. He’d set the entire world ablaze before anyone else could experience the wonderful grip of your cunt. “You’re mine. ”

You tugged him to your lips again and kissed him. A moan from you vibrated against his lips. He reached downward to tease your clit and your legs trembled at his sides.

“ Fuck, Deida ―” You flung your head back. “ I’m ― ”

He knocked you onto the table and lifted your legs over his shoulders. He began to pound you, relishing in the bounce of your tits. Plates fell to the floor and shattered as he wrecked your cunt. 

He choked you again, sure there would be a greater hand-shaped bruise once he was through. He flicked your clit, thumbed it. Your scream rumbled under his grip as his balls slapped your ass. 

Your moans grew shrill, and you clenched ―

“ Fuck …! ” Deidara lost himself in your tight cunt. He slapped your clit, grip dangerously tight at your neck―

“Yes, please!” You called out as you came, “Dei― Deidara!”

Spurts of cum left his cock and sucked into your cunt. You convulsed and convulsed. You showed him the whites of your eyes as you came. Deidara held you to him by your thighs. A few more weak thrusts and he gave out on top of you, his chin hiding in the crook of your shoulder.

A few moments passed. Deidara raised his head, caught you over the corner of his eye. “So … everything you wanted?”

“And more, ” You sang.

He maneuvered to place a kiss at the heart of your collarbone, still so fascinated with it. He removed himself from you before assisting you as best as he could. 

“Did you mean it?” You inquired after a few moments more.

“Hm?” 

“About me being your apprentice?” 

“... Hm,” Deidara shrugged. “Well, I’ll have to check my schedule. But, if it all adds up, I wouldn’t mind having you by my side.” 

You squealed, engulfed him in a hug. 

“Ah, ah!” Deidara fought you off. “Okay, okay, whatever!”

“Oh, I’m so excited! ” You bounced. “So, so ― wait!” 

You pulled back, smirked up at him.

“I almost forgot,” You said. “Your payment … ”

<<<>>>

“Two million yen,” Pain said. “All in a single donation ― our highest to date. I assume it went well?” 

“Hm!” Deidara said. “Very!”

“And Miss (Y/n) tells me she’ll be requesting you monthly from now on,” Pain continued. “Each time with the same donation or higher.” 

“Are you telling me Deidara’s dick is going to fund all our expeditions from now on?” Kisame mocked. 

“And the rest of our lives,” Kakuzu’s voice tipped in interest, “if this goes on …”

“Don’t get any ideas, Kakuzu!” Hidan barked. “We’re not whoring ourselves out.”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu bit back. “I’ve never even thought about it. Unless …”

“What girl would wanna fuck you? ” 

“A satisfied and wealthy client means less worry over how we secure our money,” Pain said, ignoring the bickering, “so, in a manner of speaking, yes. Deidara will aid in contributions― as we all should.” 

“Well, then, we’re all set!” Deidara said. 

“There’s just one thing that irks me about this whole endeavor,” Pain said. “... Where is Tobi?” 

“...”

“... He didn’t come back with you, did he?” 

“... No.”

“...” 

Pain sighed.

“... Go back and get him, Deidara.”

[ideas-live-forever]

Business Trips With Ken!

inspiration strikes! i’m on a roll, i never usually write so much 😭. just some more ken headcanons/blurbs :))

send a request if you have one! i’m looking for some more ideas about what to write!

Ken LIVES to be around you

So when he learns that you have to travel for two weeks or so for your job, he’s a little bitheartbroken

The poor guy immediately assumes that he won’t even hear from you the whole time

You explain to him that you could still call him and talk every day, you just wouldn’t be in person with him for a little

He’s still very sad, but he does his best to be understanding

He helps you pack your bags and insists you bring a bunch of things you definitely don’t need for two weeks 

“Y/n! You *have* to bring your favorite pillow!” Ken insists, pushing it towards you.

You take it in your hands and let out a soft laugh at his antics. He’s so worried about you, and you haven’t even left yet. It’s honestly adorable.

“The places I’m staying at have pillows, love. I’ll be fine.” You reply, your tone affectionate as you delicately set the pillow down.

“But what if they’re not as comfy? Then you won’t be able to sleep, so you might not be able to do work as well! And then you’ll get upset!” Ken persists in his actions, picking the pillow up again and hugging it to his chest. “Just take it, it’ll make me feel better. Please.”

How could you say no to that? Reluctantly, you pack the pillow in your suitcase, looking up to see a much less stressed out boyfriend. 

“Okay, fine. Happy?” 

“Very!” He says, smiling before he gets an idea. “While you’re at it, maybe you should bring this stuffed animal for luck.” 

To your dismay, he holds up his favorite horse plush. His expression is so innocent and caring. It takes practically all of your willpower, but you manage to go without packing it.

You found that horse in your suitcase while on your trip

The next day, he insists on going with you to the airport, and he calls a taxi early in the morning for you two to get there

Ken doesn’t even let you NEAR your suitcase. He pulls it for you all the way to security

When its finally time for you to leave, he gets all teary eyed

Pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“Call me as soon as you land, okay?” Ken says through sniffles, burying his head in your shoulder. 

“I will. Promise.” You back away from the gif long enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. And we can call every day.”

Ken nods at that, blinking rapidly to try and stop the tears from really spilling down. He gives you a little smile, incredibly proud of you even though you have to be away from him. The noise of the bustling airport around you seems to draw you out of your sweet moment.

Teary goodbyes

He gives you a nice, long kiss on the lips before he lets go of you

When you finally go through security and he can’t see you anymore, he goes back home and texts you a ‘Safe flight!!! Love you so much!!’

You text him when you land, as promised, and he lets out a breath of relief

While you’re away, Ken is basically texting you all the time

Every time he sees something that remind him of you or he thought you might enjoy, he sends you a picture.

You answer him as soon as you have time too

And every day after work, you call him to catch up

He always picks up on the first ring with a “Y/n! I miss you :(“

If you’re in different time zones, he’ll definitely stay awake until unreasonable hours to talk to you

Until you make him hang up and go to bed

BUT if you have a rough at and tell him about it he will absolutely refuse to go to sleep until he knows you’re feeling better 

He hates not being able to comfort you in person :((

Ken makes plans to pick you up when you land back home from your trip, but he can’t drive, so he calls a taxi again

You barely see Ken before he runs and hugs you, ignoring the weird looks he’s getting from the other people in the airport

He takes all your bags to the taxi and then sits next to you in the backseat, clinging onto your hand

Once you get home, he insists on you resting 

“Ken, I should really unpack a little-“ You start as he practically pushes you into your room.

“No, you have to sleep! You were on a plane today. Get some rest. I’ll unpack. Then we can cuddle!” He says with a tone that sounds like he doesn’t plan on budging in his stance.

He keeps his promise

Ken unpacks all your bags as best as he can, putting things away correctly for the most part

Then, he joins you in the bed, grabbing you around you waist and kissing your forehead

Lots of ‘I love you’s 

He falls asleep with you, excited to hear about your trip more in the morning

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 💜

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone 💗 I have an exam later today and then it’s my birthday tomorrow heh anyway here’s some healing fic and guess what! Buck is actually healing :D

TW: mentions of SH scars

Bobby knocks on the door again. “I’m starting dinner now. It will be ready in about an hour, okay?”

Buck doesn’t say anything.

“Buck?” He hears again. Fuck, Bobby thinks something’s happened to him, he’s so stupid he should just respond. Just say okay.

“Buck, are you okay in there?”

He puts on his short-sleeve shirt and opens the door. “I—I’ll help. If you—If you want.” If you still want me here. If you can look at me after this.

Bobby stands frozen, surprise written on his face. And then he smiles. There are tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling nonetheless. He draws Buck into his arms and gives him the biggest hug.

He knows how he looks — arms battered and beaten with a blade and his own mind as the weapon. It’s not a pretty sight. Yet here is Bobby, holding him like he might disappear if he lets go, loving him in spite of his flaws.

This is all Buck ever wanted. To be loved anyway.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Athena says before joining in and wrapping her arms around Buck.

He has a family.

He is not alone.

Maybe, maybe he can get through this.

When they break apart, tears streaming down all of their faces, Bobby says “I’d love some help.” And that’s that.

He helps with dinner the best he can. Bobby doesn’t let him use the knives, which he understands to an extent, but also, he’d never do that in front of them, he wouldn’t subject them to that. Regardless, he helps add the spices, get some herbs from the garden, and dress the salad. He still feels better than he has in weeks, even with Bobby looking at him every 5 seconds like he’s checking he’s still there. It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to check.

“We love you so much,” Athena says at one point. “I just want to remind you. We love you no matter what.”

Buck looks at her, with glistening eyes, and says, “I love you, too. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else he can say to convey just how grateful he is for their existence. For taking him in and loving him even when he’s at his worst. For loving him like he’s theirs. Which he is, he supposes, they’re family afterall.

Tagging the usual moots <3 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

(Edit: i accidentally posted this at 12am Wednesday instead of 12pm ajidksksk my bad guys)