#might just ask for it back after the game’s over

[gojover]

★ SOFT AS IT BEGAN ⋆ 01. THE REAPING.

district four’s only victors—satoru gojo, dazzling and deadly, and you, cunning and stubborn—are dragged back into the arena for the quarter quell. with the capitol watching and a rebellion brewing, the hunger games are no longer just about survival. they’re about trust, betrayal, and the unresolved past that still burns between you.

★ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader ★ tags: romance, angst, eventual smut, action, slow burn, hurt/comfort. the hunger games!au, dystopian!au, enemies to lovers!au. this chapter contains: alcohol consumption, profanity, death & violence, blood. ★ word count: 6.2k

series masterlist ⋆ 02. the capitol

District Four didn’t have much to offer, but there was always the beach, and the sun, and the sand. Satoru could collect seashells if he wished—he had a pile of them already, in the corner of his bedroom. He didn’t have to work. The Capitol provided him that luxury, at the expense of twenty-three lives.

He could spend his days ambling over the soft, golden sand of the strip of coast right outside the Victor’s Village and drink himself to oblivion. If Satoru lived alone in the Victor’s Village, he might’ve. 

Small joys in such a cruel, cold world.

He wasn’t the only victor District Four had to its name. There was you, who won the Hunger Games right after he did. He had mentored you, taught you all the right ways to play the Capitol crowd and win favours. He had honed your cunningness and cleverness, and helped you survive in the arena. You weren’t his favourite tribute—the twelve districts had to send one boy and one girl, each; he had favoured your fellow tribute—and truth be told, Satoru had had no idea what he was doing. It was his first time being a mentor, after all. 

Your victory was a fluke.

It had been five years since your Hunger Games, and six years since his. This year marked the 75th Hunger Games—a grim anniversary draped in spectacle. Seventy-five years since the thirteen districts of Panem had dared to rise against the Capitol. Seventy-five years since the thirteenth had been razed to ash and silence. The thought was droll, in a bleak, bitter sort of way. Nothing in Panem ever changed. Only the methods of punishment grew more inventive.

On the morning of the Reaping, Satoru rose before the sun did and made his way to the beach.

He could’ve slept in. Reaping Day was the one day the people of the districts were granted a few extra hours of sleep—if they could manage it. The ceremony itself wouldn’t begin until the afternoon, when the Capitol’s cameras were in position in the district square and the selection of the tributes was broadcast live to all of Panem. But Satoru knew that sleep rarely came to anyone on this day. Not to the children. Not to the families who might lose them. And not to the victors who knew exactly what it meant.

He walked barefoot down to the shoreline, sand still cool against his feet. The sea stretched endlessly before him, indifferent and eternal, like it had been watching all this time and simply chose not to intervene. He envied it, sometimes—the sea’s freedom. Its refusal to care.

The Victor’s Village sat far enough from the rest of District Four that the sounds of waking life didn’t reach him here. Satoru could almost believe, if only for a moment, that there were no Hunger Games; no Capitol; no Reaping. Just the salt air, the breeze tugging at his shirt, and the slow pull of the waves crashing onto the shore.

He was crouched in the sand, fiddling absently with a broken piece of sea glass when he heard footsteps.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked dryly, not looking up.

Your voice came from just behind him. “Didn’t even try.”

He stood slowly, brushing the sand from his hands and tucking the sea glass into his pocket. The two of you hadn’t spoken much in recent months—not since the last Games. He didn’t like you much, though it was a stupid thought to entertain. You’d done what you did to survive, the same as he had, and yet, every time he closed his eyes, all he could picture was his best friend lying prone on the arena’s ground, while you stood over his dead body.

You stepped closer, the crunch of sand underfoot sounding louder than it should’ve in the morning hush. The wind carried the scent of salt and seaweed, tangling through your hair and tugging at the hem of your jacket. You stopped beside him, arms crossed. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You looked older than he remembered, but so did he. The Hunger Games did that to a person.

“I ran into Pearl last week,” you said. “The new Peacemaker whose husband works for the Gamemakers.”

Satoru resisted the urge to snort. A Peacemaker, in charge of maintaining discipline in the districts, married to a Gamemaker who lived in the Capitol and worked on creating the Hunger Games, was an odd pair, at least by his standards. 

Instead, he exhaled slowly, dragging a tired hand through his hair. “You’re going to have to be more specific. This new batch of Peacemakers is nothing more than a bunch of rich bastards with too many opinions.”

“She was drunk,” you continued, ignoring his jab. “I think she told me something I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

“Go on.”

“It’s the Quarter Quell—”

“I know that,” Satoru snapped. 

The Quarter Quell, held every twenty-five years, was a special edition of the Hunger Games. This year would be the third Quarter Quell. In the words of President Snow, they were designed specially to keep the memory of the districts’ rebellion fresh in each generation’s mind. 

“Just get to the damn point,” he said.

“She said that the Quarter Quell would be different this year. Something symbolic.” Your lips curled into a sneer at that. “A return to the Games’ original purpose. A reminder that no one’s truly safe—not even us. She said that this time, they’d be reaping from the pool of victors.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s just Capitol talk. They love theatrics.”

“Do you really think the Capitol would joke about this?”

Yes, he wanted to say, but truthfully, it was hard to decipher between what was true and what was a lie when it came to the Hunger Games. Like trying to differentiate between poison and nectar when both looked the same and smelled sweet.

Satoru finally turned to face you, the morning light catching the pale glint in his eyes. You didn’t flinch—or perhaps, didn’t allow yourself to—but he suspected that it had always unsettled you, the way he looked at people like he was trying to peel back their skin just to see what was underneath.

“So you think it’s real,” he said.

“I think the Capitol would never waste a good opportunity for cruelty,” you said.

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was trying to find a lie in your face. He wouldn’t. Not about this, at least. A gull cried overhead, its shadow skating across the sand. You shifted your weight, arms tightening around your frame. The breeze whipped your hair into your face, but you made no move to push it away.

You both knew the rules. District Four had only two victors. If the Capitol wanted a show—wanted irony, cruelty, symmetry—then of course they’d make you two fight. Mentor and tribute. Killer and survivor. The boy who taught you how to win, and the girl who used it to kill the person he loved most.

“You should’ve let me die,” you murmured, turning to the sea. Your eyes scanned the horizon like the ocean might offer a different reality. Foolish, Satoru thought. The sea was unforgiving, no matter how adept you were at staying afloat.

“I tried,” Satoru said.

“Not hard enough,” you said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You weren’t worth the effort.”

But the venom in his voice wasn’t convincing. You both knew what it was: guilt, calcified into something meaner over time. 

The sun rose higher, casting everything in amber. Soon, the district would stir. Faces would fill the square. Two names would be drawn, and for once, no children would be volunteered as tributes.

Satoru didn’t often indulge in alcohol during the day. The numbing haze it offered was tempting—too tempting, most days—but he liked his senses sharp. A victor inebriated was about as useful as a tribute dead. And dead was something he still wasn’t ready to be.

He’d left the beach not long after you’d spoken. The words still sat heavy on his chest, like water in his lungs, refusing to drain. That was three hours ago.

Now, he sat in one of the Victor’s Village’s garishly upholstered armchairs—Capitol chic, which was to say it was both uncomfortable and absurd. Deep maroon with golden trim, stiff in the wrong places, and far too elaborate for a man who still slept on the left side of the bed, because the right side used to be occupied by somebody else.

Shoko dropped a packet of nicotine patches onto the glass coffee table between them. The foil crinkled; it landed beside his half-finished glass of dark liquor, casting a warped reflection in the amber. Their ritual was familiar: Capitol alcohol for black market medicine. She never asked why he drank. He never asked who she was patching up in the alleys near the docks. 

He also didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wouldn’t have any use for her exchanged goods after today.

“You should be getting ready,” Shoko said, pulling back her brown hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. 

“For what? A glorified roll call?” he said.

“For someone who’s about to be paraded in front of the entire district, you’re unusually morose.”

He picked up his glass and tipped it towards her. “Must be the company.”

“And here I thought we were friends,” said Shoko, deadpan.

They were. Or, at least, they were what passed for friends after the Games: two people bound not by warmth or laughter, but by the quiet understanding of what survival cost. Shoko hadn’t set foot in an arena, but she had pieced enough broken bodies back together to know the rules didn’t end when the cannon fired. If anything, they only got worse. She was the last thread tying him to who he was before—before the arena, before the fame that stank of blood and nightmares, before he lost his best friend.

Satoru, for all his evasions and sardonic grins, hadn’t dared cut that thread yet.

He didn’t respond, just leaned forward to pour another finger of liquor into his glass. The liquid sloshed slightly, but his hand wasn’t trembling. He couldn’t allow it to. Shoko’s gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the cobbled streets of Victor’s Village gleamed under the Capitol-mandated maintenance—fresh flowers, freshly-polished plaques, marble clean enough to reflect light. An illusion of peace, gilded and enforced.

“Where’s the victor girl?” she asked.

“Do I look like her babysitter?” he snarked.

“I’ll never understand why you can’t forgive her,” Shoko said slowly, shaking her head. “Poor thing.”

Satoru stayed quiet. If he said something now, it would be only out of anger, and he didn’t want his last words to Shoko to be something he didn’t mean. He lifted his glass and drained it in one gulp, then stood up just as the first of the district bells began to toll.

“You ought to go,” he told her, “or they’ll punish you for being late.”

“And they won’t punish you?”

He smiled faintly. “Victor’s privilege.”

Shoko didn’t move. She stared at him with the same expression she wore when inspecting a wound she knew she couldn’t stitch closed—measured, resigned, maybe even a little angry at the fact that she cared at all. 

“You keep hiding behind that title like it protects you,” she said.

“It does,” Satoru replied. 

The second bell rang, lower than the first, echoing across the district. Outside, the shadows of Peacekeepers could be seen filing into position, lining the walkways between the manicured hedges. It was a parade for the Capitol cameras, all pageantry and propaganda. The returning victors, the new tributes, and, hidden underneath them all, the reminder: you can survive the Games, but you’ll never leave them.

Shoko stepped around the coffee table, retrieving the nicotine patches. She tore one open and handed it to him, hesitating only a little. “Here. In case you decide you want to live a little longer.”

He took it without a word and slid it into the pocket of his jacket. Their eyes met once, briefly, the tiniest amount of affection they would allow themselves to show to each other.

“Don’t let them twist her into you,” she said quietly, turning around to the door.

Satoru didn’t reply.

He waited until the door shut behind her, until her footsteps disappeared down the pristine path. Then, slowly, he turned toward the tall mirror by the fireplace. The Capitol had commissioned it, of course—tall and ornate, trimmed with a frame of curling leaves and thorns dipped in gold. His reflection looked out of place in it. Older than he should be. Less victorious than they claimed.

He tugged at the collar of his jacket and stared himself down.

Forgive you? No, not yet.

The third bell chimed, sharp and final.

Satoru Gojo stepped out the door with a smile plastered on his face.

The streets of District Four were deceptively beautiful.

Stone-paved and sun-warmed, they twisted lazily along the coastline, lined with whitewashed cottages and storefronts draped in netting and dried coral. Bougainvillea climbed the walls, fuchsia and silver-white against the salt-stained brick. Wind chimes made of driftwood and shell danced in the breeze, their soft clatter mingling with the distant crash of waves. Wooden boats bobbed in the harbour, their sails furled tight, hulls painted in colours once bright but long faded by the sun. If someone passed through the district quickly enough, they might even call it peaceful.

Satoru knew better.

Every flower was trimmed for the Capitol’s cameras. Every cottage window was scrubbed clean; every storefront was made to look quaint but never poor. It was curated beauty, scrubbed clean of anything that might offend the Capitol’s delicate sensibilities. 

Every child was trained for the sea, and then—inevitably—for war. District 4 was a district of fishermen, yes, but it was also a district of Careers. A place where kids learned to wield spears before they learned to read, where swimming and fighting were taught in the same breath, and discipline came in the form of bruises and bent knees.

There was pride here—too much, perhaps. Pride in strength. Pride in surviving. Somewhere along the line, that pride in survival had turned into pride in bloodshed, and now it was hard to tell one from the other.

And yet, for all their training and tradition, District 4 had only two victors to its name. Two, in over seventy years of Games. It was a quiet disgrace, a smudge against the reputation they’d worked so hard to polish. The Capitol never said it aloud, but the resentment was there, simmering beneath their sugar-sweet praise. Their tributes were supposed to be killers, paragons of grace and brutality, but most died with their throats slit in the first few days.

When the Capitol looked at you and Satoru, it looked with expectation. Pressure. Hunger. You weren’t just victors; you were proof that District Four could produce something lethal. The Capitol wouldn’t let you forget it, and it was evident in the way the Peacekeepers trailed you and Satoru as you made your way to the square.

So, no. He didn’t buy the pretty picture. He’d come to loathe it and love it, in equal parts.

“Is it weird that I feel… relieved?” you asked, looking down. Your boots scuffed against the cobblestone.

“Relieved that no kid has to die this year?” Satoru said, his voice low. “No. That’s not weird.”

Last year, it was Junpei and Mai Zen’in. The year before that, the mayor’s daughter and the butcher’s son. The year before that, it had been the twins from the cliffs, Reika and Ren. They’d held hands as they climbed into the transport, matching defiant stares fixed on the cameras. Satoru may not have seen eye-to-eye with you, but in this, as the only mentors your district had to offer, you were jointly determined. It was cruel, the way the Capitol spun the twins’ narrative. There was nothing more tragic than siblings being put in a bloodbath and forced to kill each other. 

You and Satoru did all you could to ensure their survival. They’d died anyway—Reika on the second day with an arrow to the heart; Ren lasted three more before he threw himself off a ledge rather than be cornered.

Ten tributes in the five years since yours, two more since his. Satoru remembered them all. Names, faces, screams. He kept them catalogued like wounds, sharp and painful. You didn’t forget your district’s dead—not when their ghosts walked the streets in the form of little siblings, grieving mothers, empty chairs at dinner tables.

He glanced sideways at you, eyes catching the tremble in your jaw. You didn’t say anything, but he could tell this wasn’t just about relief. It was guilt, too. You’d won. They hadn’t. Satoru knew perfectly what that felt like.

You exhaled. “They always look so small when they’re called. Doesn’t matter how tough they act, how many knives they’ve trained with. They always look like kids.”

“Didn’t we?” Satoru said.

He didn’t mean for it to come out as cruel as it did. You flinched, just barely, but he saw it: a crack in your composure, hairline thin, quick as lightning. Satoru looked away. The breeze picked up, bringing with it the sharp tang of brine and the distant screech of gulls. Somewhere in the harbour, a rope hit a mast with a dull clack clack clack, rhythmic and lonely. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did,” you said quietly. “But it’s fine.”

It wasn’t, not really. But what else was there to say? You had looked like kids. You’d been eighteen—too innocent, too young, bruises blooming purple down your arms after weeks of Career training. Satoru remembered seeing you on stage beside him, hands clenched into fists, mouth pressed into a line like you’d rather spit than smile. It had been his first year as a mentor, and despite his Games having left him shaken already, it was your Games that truly wiped any traces of joy from his mind. 

“The twins’ mom still leaves candles by the pier,” you said. “Every month. Two. One pink, and one blue.”

“Yeah. I know,” Satoru said.

The hill began to slope downward, toward the square. The stage always felt out of place here—too polished, too clean. Like someone had taken a piece of the Capitol and dropped it into the heart of District 4 without bothering to see whether it fit. The wood was sanded smooth, gleaming under the afternoon sun, and the Capitol banners draped behind it fluttered; red silk, gold trim, all show. Two glass bowls were placed on pedestals, and normally, they’d be filled to the brim with narrow slips of paper. This time, there was only one piece of paper in each. A microphone was placed between them, tall and thin.

Children were already gathered below, arranged by age, corralled behind thick ropes like livestock awaiting auction. Girls to the left, and boys to the right. The youngest looked terrified, faces drawn tight with fear at their first ever Reaping. The older ones stood stiff-backed, trying to appear braver than they felt. To the side stood those who had outgrown the age for the Games: men and women with sunburnt faces and wind-bitten hands who stood with their arms crossed tightly.

The Peacekeepers led you and Satoru down the path, in between the girls and boys. The children looked at him, wide-eyed and stricken; the older ones stared at him with more wariness. He looked away, fingers curling into fists inside the pockets of his jacket. The Head Peacekeeper—the new one, who’d inadvertently let slip the secret about this year’s Hunger Games—nudged you both up the stage. Satoru stood with his hands behind his back, the bitter taste of judgement and expectation lodged in his mouth like rot.

The metallic clatter of heels against the stage broke the silence. The Capitol’s escort for District Four ascended with a flourish. 

Coral was her name, and she’d been the conductor of the Reaping since Satoru was born. She was dressed in seafoam and pearl, hair coiled into a towering spiral that mimicked the curl of a nautilus shell, the tips dipped in shimmering silver. The strands were woven through with glinting beads and wire shaped like sea creatures—delicate crabs, jewelled anemones, and a single translucent fish pinned just above her ear. Her lipstick was the same shade of a coral reef just before it bleached. Her lashes batted with forced warmth, eyes bright beneath a mask of powder and paint.

“What a fucking clown,” he heard you mutter under your breath. Satoru snorted and disguised it as a cough. There was no love lost between you both and Coral. Your disdain for each other only seemed to multiply with each new Reaping.

The Capitol, he thought grimly, had a twisted sense of humour. A woman named Coral for the district by the ocean. It was almost funny, if it weren’t so cruel. Everything about her was an imitation of the sea—costume over understanding, performance over truth. She smiled as if she hadn’t just flown in on a private hovercraft to announce death in front of children.

“Welcome, welcome!” she trilled into the microphone, loud and obnoxious, in that strange Capitol accent of hers. “District Four, it is always a pleasure. Happy Hunger Games—and what a special occasion this year’s Reaping promises to be!”

The crowd murmured. You cursed at her quietly once more. Satoru bit back his smile; you were providing some amusement, at least, before Coral announced the inevitable.

“This year marks the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games,” she continued. “And as you all know, every twenty-five years, we celebrate a Quarter Quell—a commemorative twist designed to remind us of the sacrifices that brought us peace.”

Her voice lifted slightly on the word peace, as if it were something alive, fluttering in the air like the Capitol’s gaudy banners. Satoru fought the urge to look at you, because if he did, he might laugh, and if he laughed, he might get shot.

Coral stepped back from the microphone, flourished a glittering envelope from her sleeve, and held it up. 

“With the approval of President Snow,” she announced, “it is my honour to read the card that was sealed in this envelope seventy-five years ago by the original founders of Panem, to be opened today.”

She opened the envelope with a dramatic flick of her fingers.

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games,” she read, “as a reminder that not even the strongest among us can overcome the Capitol… the tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors.”

Gasps rippled through the square. Some of the children whimpered. A few of the older teenagers exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief. A boy—not even thirteen, probably—turned to the boy next to him and whispered something frantic, something like what does that mean? only to get knocked on the back of his head by the nearest Peacekeeper.

Satoru didn’t blink. The performance had begun.

Coral gave the crowd a moment to process. She nodded solemnly, as if she actually gave a shit, and spread her arms. 

“As District Four has only two living victors, there will be no draw today,” she said. “No need for names. By default… our tributes for the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games will be Satoru Gojo—” she paused, smiling as though his name was something to be treasured—“and…” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, and, grabbing Satoru’s hand, you stepped forward, nudging Coral out of the way.

“What are you doing—” 

“People of District Four,” you said loudly, ignoring Satoru’s flabbergasted glare and Coral’s protest. “We are your victors. We survived the Hunger Games. We were supposed to look after those who were sent in after this, and in this—in this, I regret to say, we’ve failed.”

Coral’s mouth opened in shock, but no words came out. Her wide eyes flicked between you and Satoru, who still hadn’t moved, his hand slack in yours. The crowd had quieted, like someone had pulled a thread too tightly—and now, everything was still, holding its breath.

You stepped forward once more.

“We failed them,” you continued. “We smiled for the cameras and waved from our trains and made speeches written by people who never saw a child die. We survived—and then we disappeared into the Victor’s Village, and the comfort and silence it gave us.”

Satoru could feel Coral’s fury simmering behind you, the way her breath turned short and shallow. She was probably already thinking of how this would look to the Capitol. What it would cost.

He didn’t care, and neither did you.

Satoru looked out at the people of District Four—his people. He saw the girl in the front row with the callused hands and the storm-coloured eyes. He saw the old man with the limp, gripping the hand of a child too young to understand what you were saying. He saw Shoko, standing to the side, her eyes wide and her mouth parted slightly. He saw grief.

He saw fear.

“We’re not proud of what we’ve become,” you said. “We were kids when they threw us into the arena. But we came back. And I—I can’t live with pretending that what’s happening now is normal. I won’t.”

There was a rustle behind you, the shift of fabric as Satoru finally stepped up. He raised his free hand—not waving, not saluting. Just open, trembling slightly; he was unsure what gesture could ever be right here.

“I—” he started, then stopped, and cleared his throat. “What she said. All of it.”

Someone in the crowd let out a choked laugh, but it was the kind that came too close to crying.

“I used to think,” Satoru said, steadier now, “that surviving was enough. That if I could just get through it, I’d earn the right to be left alone. But the truth is, we’re not alone—and we never were.”

His hand squeezed yours.

“And maybe we don’t have power,” you said. “Not compared to the Capitol. But we have voices. And I think—I think we should start using them. Before it’s too late.”

It was the old man with the limp who acted first, his eyes fixed on you both. His hand, weathered by time, trembled as he brought his thumb to his lips; then, slowly, he moved his hand across his chest before lifting it outward, palm open, towards you and Satoru.

The old sailors’ farewell. Satoru remembered being a child and playing at the docks when some of the older fishermen taught him about it. It was the gesture made to those who were being sent to sea, with long voyages ahead—a gesture for them to come back, safe and sound, with tales of joy and abundance. No one had ever used it since Panem was created.

Like a stone being dropped into still water, others in the crowd began to mirror him. One by one, people raised their hands to their lips, then pressed them to their hearts, before lifting them towards you. It spread like wildfire, like the way a spark can catch in dry grass. He didn’t know if it was a sign of solidarity or defiance, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. 

It was a rebellion all the same.

The crack of a rifle split the air like lightning. 

The old man, his back straight despite his age, crumpled to the ground in a spray of blood. His limp body collapsed as a single shot rang out from a Peacekeeper’s rifle. His grandchild, confused and scared, began to wail, covered in his grandfather’s blood.

The child’s wail cut through the stunned silence like a blade, sharp and raw and impossibly small. For a second—maybe two, maybe ten—no one moved. You were frozen behind him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like you couldn’t believe what you’d just seen.

Neither could he.

The blood seeped quickly across the stone, impossibly red against the grey, reaching the child’s shoes.

Screams tore through the square. People surged backwards, pushing and tripping over one another. Mothers grabbed their children, elders stumbled, younger ones shouted in protest and disbelief. Some tried to run. Some simply stood there, lost in horror.

Satoru tried to jump off the stage, acting before he could think,  arms outstretched towards the child, towards the body, but strong arms grabbed him and held him back.

“Get off me—let go—” he snarled, teeth bared like an animal. You were shouting too, your voice cracking as you fought the Peacekeeper trying to drag you away.

“You killed him! He was unarmed!” you screamed, writhing, kicking, doing everything you could to make them hurt. “He saluted us! That’s all he did!”

“Let go of her!” Satoru roared, lunging towards you, twisting violently, only for the butt of a gun to slam into his gut. He doubled over with a groan, teeth clenched, and still, they carried him away.

The Peacekeeper holding Satoru grunted, pulling his arms behind his back with bruising force. “Enough.”

“No,” Satoru spat. “Don’t you dare fucking tell me that. That was a child’s grandfather—”

“Stand down or we shoot again.”

That made Satoru freeze.

You were still thrashing behind him, a wild thing burning in the sunlight, but when he said your name—just once, low and urgent—you met his eyes, and you stilled. Not because you were afraid, but because you understood.

They would kill someone else. A child. You. Him.

“Take them,” the Head Peacekeeper barked. 

They dragged him from the platform. Somewhere in the distance, someone cried for help. Somewhere else, someone shouted murderer.

But he wasn’t allowed to look. He wasn’t allowed to stop. Your feet caught on the steps as the Peacekeepers forced you down them. Satoru was only a few feet behind you, but it still felt like miles. His hair was falling into his eyes, his back bent slightly where the rifle butt poked into him. Still, he fought against every hand that tried to hold him still, even if it was more subdued now.

The child’s sobs followed him like a phantom.

The doors of the Justice Building yawned open before him, all pale marble and clean lines and hollow promises. The air inside was colder than it had any right to be, and it swallowed the sunlight in an instant. 

You were shoved into a corridor, Satoru beside you now, guards on either side. You looked at him. Your lip was split where one of the Peacekeepers had hit you in your struggle. Satoru was sure he didn’t look any better; the scratches nicked on his cheeks stung.

“I saw it,” he said, hoarse. “I saw his hand.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “So did I.”

“He was saying goodbye.”

“He was hoping we’d come back.”

The guards didn’t care. They didn’t speak; they merely kept moving you forward, step after step, deeper into the building, deeper into the Capitol’s grasp.

Satoru closed his eyes and imagined the frail, lifeless body of that old man. He was going to be sick. He thought about the years they’d all lived through, about everything that had brought them to this point. All those people who had died before them, who had given up their lives just for the chance of a better one.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You and he weren’t supposed to be this.

He turned to look at you again, and for the first time in five years, he felt that familiar feeling creeping in—the feeling that no matter how much he wanted to fix things, he couldn’t.

“You’re okay,” he muttered, more to himself than you. But it felt like a lie. He didn’t know what was happening anymore.

The Peacekeepers shoved you inside a room. “Sit,” one of them ordered gruffly. “We’re receiving orders from the Capitol soon.”

Satoru had forgotten that the Reaping was always being broadcast live to everyone in the country. His head hurt. Numbly, he moved to the nearest chair—some old, stiff wooden thing—and collapsed onto it.

Did you know what you’d done?

You didn’t sit. Your arms were still trembling, and the moment the door clicked shut behind the last guard, it was like all of it—everything he’d swallowed down to keep from screaming—came clawing its way back up.

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” Satoru said.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t have said anything about using our voices, or—” He was staring at the floor, hands pressed against his mouth like he was trying to physically hold back everything he wanted to say. “We should’ve just let the Reaping happen like it always does.”

“He was shot in front of us. He saluted us, and they shot him—”

“Because of us!” Satoru exploded, finally looking up at you, eyes wild and bloodshot. “We incited this! You think President Snow won’t twist this into some Capitol propaganda? You think he won’t use that child’s face?”

You shook your head. “So you’d rather we be their good little Victors again? Keep our heads down while they murder people in the square?”

“I’d rather you stay alive!” he snapped. “I’d rather not be left alone, all over again.”

The silence that followed was thick and ugly. He dropped his gaze again, chest heaving like the fight had drained him of all the air in the room.

The door opened once more.

“What an entertaining little lover’s spat,” a voice sang out mockingly, clapping slow, deliberate hands. “Really, I should’ve brought popcorn.”

Satoru’s gaze snapped up.

Coral pouted, sickly sweet, leaning against the doorframe. “Unfortunately for you both, the fun’s over. We must leave immediately. President Snow wants to see you.”

Neither of you needed to ask why. Both of you already knew.

Satoru rose slowly from his chair, his shoulders stiff and aching. You walked out first, following Coral out of the Justice Building.

“Chin up, darlings!” Coral tossed a cruel smile over her shoulder. “After all, it’s not every day you start a rebellion on live television.”

After the Reaping—if it could even be called that—the crowds had emptied. What remained were scorch marks on the stone, drops of blood already dying in the last light of the day, and the haunting echo of that child’s sobs still ringing in Satoru’s ears.

You walked ahead of him, shoulders squared, back straight, silent. Peacekeepers flanked you both, rifles in hand, boots smacking against the concrete.

The train that would take you to the Capitol loomed just ahead, lacquered ink-black. It wouldn’t be his first time boarding this very train, but, with his pulse pounding in his throat, Satoru desperately hoped it’d be his last.

“Satoru!”

He turned instinctively. He knew that voice. It had raised him, fed him, scolded him. He’d known it since he was a boy too small to reach the docks without running.

Reiko and Ren’s mother, Midori, was pushing her way through the barrier, eyes glassy. A Peacekeeper stepped forward to stop her, but she ducked under his arm and threw herself in front of Satoru.

She looked older now, greyer and more wrinkled than he remembered. The toll of losing both her children at the same time had not failed to leave its scar on her. Satoru felt a lump form in his throat; he’d been too ashamed to look her in the eye, ever since he had broken his promise of keeping her children safe. But her hands were still strong when they grabbed his, shoving something into his palm, curling his fingers around it before anyone could see.

“You listen to me,” she hissed, close enough that only he could hear. “This was your mother’s. She would have wanted you to have it.”

Satoru opened his fist. A golden pin, drawn in the shape of a mockingjay—a muttation created by the Capitol—rested in his palm, warm from her hands.

“I kept it hidden all these years,” she whispered. “Don’t let them take you too.”

A Peacekeeper barked something unintelligible and shoved her backward. Before Satoru could react, the Peacekeeper who’d tried to stop her from reaching Satoru stepped forward and struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand. The sound echoed down the platform like thunder.

She crumpled to the ground, blood at the corner of her mouth.

“No—” Satoru lunged forward, but two Peacekeepers grabbed him, dragging him towards the train. “Let me go! She didn’t do anything!”

You were screaming now, too, struggling against the grip on your arm, reaching for him.

The doors were already sliding open.

The last thing Satoru saw before he was shoved into the train was Midori’s body being dragged away, her feet scraping against the concrete. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Fuck!” Satoru twisted away from the Peacekeepers holding him, chest heaving, eyes fixed to the window. His hands were shaking. He tucked the pin into his pocket, trembling. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—”

You wrenched him by his shoulders, forcing him to face you instead. Your lip was bleeding again. “Look at me.”

“They—”

“Get your fucking act together, Satoru,” you said.

He nodded once. Again. Closed his eyes, and hid the shaking of his hands by fisting his fingers together in his jacket pockets. 

The Capitol was waiting. Satoru found himself hoping—perhaps  foolishly—that the odds, no matter how bleak, would be in his favour.

a/n: thanks for reading! sorry for such a short first chapter, but i wanted to use this as a prologue of sorts. rest assured that all the future chapters will be much, much longer :) thank you to @mahowaga for beta reading & letting me ramble about this fic with her ♡

art credit: _3aem

[purplereina11]

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 9 Other Parts

Word Count: 8k

You’re still curled on the corner of the sofa, a blanket tossed over your knees. The TV is still on, the volume low something forgettable playing while your focus drifts elsewhere.

You glance toward the clock. She’s been gone longer than fifteen minutes. You smile, faint but fond, and call out toward the hallway with raised eyebrows, “Did you get lost?”

The front door opens almost exactly as the words leave your mouth.

Teddy barrels in first, nails clicking across the tile, tail wagging wildly. He goes straight for you like he missed you after ten minutes of freedom, launching his head into your lap and letting out a triumphant huff. You laugh, fingers immediately threading through his fur. “Hey, bud. You give her a hard time?”

Then you look up and the smile flickers, because there she is, standing with flowers. Wrapped in soft brown paper, a little loose around the edges like she carried them carefully but not nervously. The colours are muted, warm. Kind.

Alexia looks like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself, she clears her throat. “Teddy got these for you.”

Your brows lift. “Oh, did he?”

She steps closer, still holding them like she might change her mind. “Yeah. Saw them. Thought of you. Made me carry them.”

You try not to smile too big. You fail. “Wow,” you say, taking them gently as she crosses the room. Your fingers brush hers. “He’s very emotionally intuitive for a dog.”

“Unbelievable instincts,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to your face just once before sliding away again.

You look down at the bouquet. It’s perfect, thoughtful, soft. Intentional, you bring it to your nose, breathing in. “Ranunculus,” you murmur, impressed.

She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I liked the name.”

You glance up. “Liar.”

She huffs, rubs the back of her neck. “The woman in the shop said they mean charm.”

You blink. “They mean you’ve been reading into flower meanings?”

She gestures to Teddy. “He asked.”

You laugh, holding the flowers against your chest. “Well he has incredible taste.”

Alexia sits beside you now not too close, but close enough. One leg tucked under her, fingers fidgeting slightly at the hem of her shirt.

You shift the flowers to one side, still smiling. “Thank you,” you say, voice quieter now.

She nods, doesn’t look at you just yet. “You’ve had a hard week.”

You rest your head on the back of the couch, looking at her profile, “I’m glad it ended here.”

That makes her glance at you properly, her voice drops to a whisper. “Me too.”

Teddy sighs between you both loud, satisfied and neither of you moves.

You’re both half-watching the screen, the opening whistle just blowing for Bayern vs Hoffenheim. The stadium is loud through the speakers, commentary layered with the low hum of crowd noise.

Alexia stretches out slightly on the other side of the couch, her head resting back, one leg bent beneath her, the other stretched toward the edge.

She shifts, wincing faintly, you glance over. “You alright?”

She exhales through her nose. “My new boots are a nightmare.”

You turn your head toward her. “Blisters?”

“Worse. Pressure. They’re too narrow across the midfoot. I can’t feel my toes after 30 minutes.”

You frown. “Why didn’t you switch them?”

“I’m stubborn.”

You smirk. “No kidding.”

She kicks lightly in your direction. “Shut up.”

You nod to her foot. “Want me to rub it?”

She blinks, scoffing softly. “What?”

“Your foot. If it’s sore. I’ll rub it.”

She laughs short, dismissive. “You don’t have to—”

“I didn’t say I have to,” you cut in, turning toward her. “But I can do?”

She opens her mouth to protest again, but you’re already reaching forward gently taking hold of her ankle, shifting her leg into your lap.

“Wait” she says, more startled than offended, but your hands are warm and sure, thumbs already pressing into the arch with practiced pressure. She goes quiet, her head tips back against the cushion, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

You glance sideways, your tone smug but affectionate. “That’s what I thought.”

She mutters something in Catalan under her breath you've quickly learnt 'Annoying' in Catalan she says it multiple times whenever you're around, but she doesn’t pull away.

In fact… she melts, bit by bit, minute by minute.

The longer your thumbs work along the arch of her foot, your fingers tracing gentle circles along the pressure points, the more tension leaves her body like you’re unplugging something at the source.

At one point, she sighs not soft, not hidden and lies fully back against the couch, stretching out with her arm over her eyes.

You keep going, you’re not really watching the match anymore. “Still want to argue?” you murmur, thumb sliding along the curve beneath her ankle.

She doesn’t lift her arm, just shakes her head once.

“Didn’t think so.”

You smile, not because you’re winning but because she’s letting you in like this. Letting you take care of her, even in the small ways.

Your thumbs are working slow circles into the arch of her left foot, the pads of your fingers easing tension like it’s what you were born to do. Every time she exhales, you feel it the way her body settles deeper, the way her edges soften.

Then she mutters, eyes still closed, head still tipped back against the cushion, “Don’t stop.”

You don’t answer at first. Just slow your movements, then lift your hands away entirely.

She whines, actually whines, the softest, most involuntary sound from the back of her throat.

You tilt your head, grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah?” you say, voice low, lazy. “Beg me.”

Her eyes snap open. “What?”

You tap her thigh twice, grinning. “Give me the other foot. Bring it up.”

She glares at you but it’s all performance, because she does it. Shifting with a groan, stretching the other leg out and settling it in your lap like she hates herself for giving in. “I’m not begging.”

You raise an eyebrow, already starting to knead at her heel. “No? Sounded like you were getting close.”

Alexia groans, draping her forearm across her face. “Cállate…”

You laugh quietly. “That’s not a denial.”

Her voice comes muffled from beneath her arm. “You’re impossible.”

“Comfortable, though.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does lower her arm a second later, peeking at you with a reluctant smile. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You meet her gaze, and this time, your voice softens just a little “Maybe. Or maybe I just like making you feel good.”

That does get her, you can see it in the shift of her throat, the way she swallows, the flicker in her eyes, but instead of answering, she mutters, “Just focus on the foot.”

You smirk. “As you wish.”

And you do thumb sliding gently along the bridge, fingers pressing into the ball of her foot with care and purpose.

Her eyes close again but that smile it stays. You shift your fingers up her sole with another long, slow press and then glance at her with mock curiosity. “I wonder if Mateo would like a foot massage…”

She freezes, then pulls both feet out of your lap instantly, curling them protectively beneath her as she sat up like you’ve just committed an unforgivable sin. You burst into laughter. Her jaw drops. “You did not just say that.”

You grin, unrepentant. “I mean, he’s very emotionally intuitive—”

That’s all you get out before she lunges. One moment, she’s glaring at you, and the next she’s on you, hands going straight for your sides like she knows exactly where to strike. “Take it back!” she laughs, her fingers merciless at your ribs.

You squirm, gasping through your own laughter. “Never!”

“You’re the worst!” she says, laughing too hard to sound truly angry, and you grab for her wrists, trying to defend yourself and failing spectacularly.

She’s on top of you now, completely, your back against the couch cushions, her weight warm and steady, hair falling over her face as she grins down at you, breathless.

And then without warning the mood shifts, your hands are still wrapped around her wrists. Her laughter softens, her gaze catches on yours and stays there. Neither of you moves for a beat, then her smile fades into something else and you’re the one who leans up.

Her mouth meets yours in a kiss that starts soft a question, an answer then deepens quickly, all heat and relief and too many held-back moments finally spilling forward.

She tastes like mint and something sweet from earlier, her hands threading into your hair now, your fingers sliding up her back as you shift beneath her, anchoring her to you like this is where she was always meant to be.

Her body presses down into yours, slow and certain.

You sigh against her mouth, hand sliding under the hem of her shirt just to feel her skin warm, smooth, real.

She hums softly, mouth never leaving yours.

When you finally pull apart barely her forehead rests against yours.

Her voice is breathless. “No more Mateo jokes.”

You grin, tugging gently at her shirt. “Noted. Only adult massages from now on.”

She kisses you again, laughing into your mouth and this time, it lingers, it deepens quickly. No trace of teasing now.

Her weight is settled fully on you, one hand still twisted gently in your hoodie at your chest, the other sliding up to your jaw, fingers resting lightly like she wants to feel every inch of this moment.

You tilt your chin slightly, meeting her with a slow kind of urgency not rushing her, just matching her intention.

It’s not messy. It’s not loud. Every press of lips, every brush of breath between you, every shift of her hips over yours, you can feel her smiling against your mouth now and then small, involuntary things that make your stomach tighten and your chest ease all at once.

She pulls back only slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded, warm.

“Come here.” You whispered, you weren't any near done with this yet.

She kisses you again slow, warm, her mouth parting under yours now, her hands sliding beneath your hoodie, fingertips exploring the skin at your waist like she’s been thinking about this too long not to remember it.

You sit up slightly, enough to push the hoodie over your head, her gaze following every motion, eyes catching at the hem of your shirt riding up.

Then her lips are back on yours before you can say another word, and it’s closer now hands moving with purpose, mouths syncing, breath hitching with each shift.

Your hand slides under her shirt, slow, reverent and she lets you, her stomach twitching under your touch, her breath catching in your mouth.

The match on the TV is long forgotten.

All that’s left is the warmth of skin under fabric, the gentle gasp she makes when your thumb brushes just beneath the curve of her ribs, the way she sighs your name like a secret she’s finally allowed to say aloud.

And when she pulls back again hair mussed, lips swollen, flushed she looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s made sense all night.

And then the buzz, a low, persistent vibration on the coffee table, neither of you moves at first. You groan softly, tilting your head toward the sound, reluctant, when it keeps going.

Alexia does it for you shifts just slightly, propping herself on one elbow, squinting at the screen.

Then she says, calmly, but not without interest, “Abby”

Your heart skips a beat, "My agent" You explain, “Shit,” you mutter.

She moves off you gently, giving you space, as you sit up her hand brushing yours once before letting go.

You grab your phone, the name staring up at you. Unmissable. You glance back at her once. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Alexia nods, softly. “Take it.”

You walk barefoot through the open bi-fold doors, out onto the cool tiles by the pool. The night air hits your skin crisp, welcome, grounding. You swipe to answer. “Hey,” you say, trying to steady your voice, trying to hold on to what just happened with her.

There’s no delay. No warm-up, your agent’s voice is all urgency. “I know it’s late, but I didn’t want you finding out from the press.”

Your stomach tenses. “What happened?”

“They’ve made a decision,” she says. “Your club. They’ve told me you're being released at the end of your contract.”

Silence. Just you, and the still water at your feet. You don’t say anything at first. “But I have a year and a half left yet?”

“They’re not extending. They’re making room. New signings, different direction. They’re spinning it as a mutual decision.”

You stare into the water. Your reflection isn’t clear too many ripples. “They’re done with me.”

Your agent hesitates. “They’ve moved on. But you’re not done. That’s what matters.” You nod slowly, not trusting your voice. “You knew this might happen,” she adds gently.

You swallow hard. “I didn’t want to be right.”

A pause. “I’ve already had a few calls,” she says. “Clubs asking what’s next. You’ve still got options.”

You exhale slowly. “Okay.” You need a second. Maybe more than that, but it's time you haven't got. “Are there any options to leave now?” you ask. Your voice is low, tight. “Loan, even. Buyout, if someone bites. I can't stay there knowing they don't want me for all that time”

Your agent doesn’t hesitate. “That’s what I’ve been checking since I heard.”

“I can’t sit on a bench for another year and a half.” You run a hand down your face. “By then, no one will want me.”

“They already do,” she says calmly. “There are clubs watching. But they’ll want clarity. They’ll want minutes.”

“I don’t have any minutes,” you mutter.

“But you have history. Presence. Reputation. That’s something especially if you can go now, I can blame the Portugal match for lack of minutes right now but that can only ride for so long.”

There’s a pause. You press harder, “If it’s loan or nothing, I’ll take the loan. I just—” You stop yourself. Lower your voice again. “I need to play. That’s it.”

Your agent exhales softly on the other end. “Okay. Then that’s what we go for.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. “No press release. Not until we know where I’m going.”

“I’ll control the timing,” she assures you. “And I’ll push.”

Another silence. But this one has more oxygen in it. A plan is forming now, the kind that keeps you standing when everything else tries to shrink you down. “Thanks,” you say. “Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

You end the call and let the phone drop into your lap. You’re sitting on the edge, legs stretched out in front of you, phone limp in your hand, eyes fixed somewhere that isn’t the water anymore. Behind you, soft footsteps on the tiles. No rush. Just presence. Then her voice quiet, but sure. “You’re going to tell me you have to go home, aren’t you?”

You don’t look at her right away. Just breathe. Then glance sideways, “Says the woman flying off tomorrow for international camp.”

She lets out a short, low laugh and comes to sit beside you, her legs crossing beneath her. “Fair,” she murmurs. Silence slips between you, but it’s not sharp. It’s soft around the edges. Then barely above a whisper. “Be here when I get back?”

You look at her now. She’s not smiling. She’s not pushing. She just looks at you with something open in her eyes not desperate. Just hoping.

You search her face for a second, the quiet honesty of her question wrapping around you like a thread you didn’t expect. You nod, once. Steady.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Ok.”

She nods too, slowly, like she’s folding that answer away somewhere private. Then she leans just slightly, her shoulder brushing yours, her voice closer now. “Good.” You smile faintly, fingers curling around the edge of the pool tiles. She leans her head gently onto your shoulder, and neither of you says anything more.

⚽️

You wake slow, the kind of sleep that leaves your body heavy and your thoughts scattered. For a moment, you don’t remember where you are. Then you do.

The bed is warm, but the other side is empty.

You blink against the pale morning light seeping through the open window, the distant sound of traffic barely audible under the chirp of birds and the occasional shuffle of Teddy’s tail against the hallway floor.

You pull on one of Alexia’s hoodies, the first thing within reach, and pad barefoot down the hall. The kitchen is quiet.

The coffee machine is on, half-full pot waiting like she knew you’d wake up slow. The blinds are half-open, and Teddy’s already curled in the sunspot by the sliding doors.

And then you see it, propped against the side of your mug. A small folded note. Her handwriting, neat but unhurried. You pick it up, fingers brushing the edge of the paper.

It simply says:

Didn’t want to wake you. Behave yourself I’ll call when I land. — A 🐾 (Teddy's in charge)

You stare at it for a second longer than you mean to, then press it flat to the countertop with your palm.

You pour the coffee, lean against the counter, hoodie sleeves falling over your hands. Teddy stretches and pads over, nosing your shin before plopping down at your feet.

You run a hand absently over his head, sipping quietly. “She left you in charge, huh?” He doesn’t move, neither do you, because in this silence, you can feel it, serenity.

⚽️

At Spains international camp the common area is buzzing in the low, distracted way it always does before a double training session players sprawled on beanbags and sofas, water bottles half-drained, music playing softly through a speaker in the corner.

Alexia’s cross-legged on the floor, back against a sofa, phone in one hand, a pair of boots beside her she still hasn’t started re-lacing. Jana’s flipping through a playlist, Olga and Aitana talking quietly near the windows.

“Oye, have you seen the gossip about Y/N?” Misa says suddenly, screen raised, eyes wide in half-shock, half-entertainment.

Alexia’s head snaps up. Her tone is immediate, too sharp to hide, “What?”

Misa blinks, surprised. “It’s just online. People are talking.”

Alexia is already moving rising to her knees, tossing her phone on the cushion behind her. “Where?”

Misa scrolls quickly, tapping open a football blog post clearly being passed around. “Here,” she says. “I didn’t think it was—”

Alexia leans over her shoulder, jaw tight.

Misa reads aloud, frowning slightly, “Sources close to the club claim the relationship between Bayern’s head coach and their star forward Y/N has soured, becoming strained over the past few months. Once a fixture in both club and country starting elevens, Y/N has now fallen from both, failing to make England’s most recent camp. With a year and a half still on her contract, insiders question whether Bayern’s top goalscorer might now be seeking an early exit, or risk sitting out the season and losing her spot in any international contention completely.”

Silence. No one laughs. Not even Misa. Alexia stands properly now, arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen like she could burn it.

Only the Barça girls glance up, Patri, Mapi, Aitana, they know. The rest just wait, curious. Alexia’s voice is quiet, but firm. “She’s not gossip."

Misa looks up, taken aback. “I didn’t mean—”

“She’s still the best forward in Germany if not the world. I don’t care who wants to spin what.”

Aitana shifts closer, her voice low. “They’re just trying to fill space before the transfer window opens.”

Alexia nods once, jaw still clenched. “They don’t know anything.”

She doesn’t say but I do. She doesn’t have to. Misa softens. “Sorry, Ale. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Bayern are fumbling hard,” Laia says, shaking her head. “You don’t sit a player like her unless something serious went down.”

“Yeah, but with who?” Olga chimes in. “The coach? Management? She’s been everywhere and never had issues before.”

“They’ve got the best scorer in the league and they’re benching her?” Jana snorts. “What kind of manager does that?”

Mapi leans forward, hands clasped between her knees. “She’s done it all though, hasn’t she?”

Aitana hums in agreement. “WSL titles with Chelsea and Arsenal. Then Lyon the whole sweep, quadruple twice with them.”

“Champions League,” Olga adds, holding up a finger. “Coupe de France. Trophée des Championnes.”

“And now in Germany too,” Patri says, glancing up. “Bundesliga. Pokal. Supercup.”

They all go quiet for a beat. Then Misa says it half-laughing, half-serious, “Maybe it’s time she conquers Spain.”

A low whistle from someone near the back. “If she comes here, that’s history. No one’s done it across all those leagues.”

“She’d change everything,” Laia murmurs. “Again.”

Alexia stays completely still, she doesn’t speak, doesn’t react. Just stares quietly at the screen, then down at the floor, but her mind is full.

She knows how you feel about sitting out. About being silenced, and she knows, with sudden clarity, what Spain would look like with you in it. Next to her. Wearing the same colours. The others keep talking, but the noise fades at the edges for her. Because that one sentence echoes louder than all the rest,

“Maybe it’s time she conquers Spain.”

Alexia doesn’t say anything, but she’s thinking maybe it is.

⚽️

The water glimmers, warm and lazy, as you float on your back. The day has been quiet, just sun, silence, and Teddy passed out in a shady patch with his paw twitching in a dream.

You’re stretched out on a lounger, sunglasses sliding down your nose, droplets still clinging to your skin. Bikini straps low on your shoulders, hair damp, a book open across your stomach but forgotten pages ago.

Your phone vibrates once.

You lazily reach for it, barely glancing until you see her name.

Alexia 🖤 calling…

You smile immediately, swiping to answer as you sit up slightly. “Look who remembered I exist,” you tease, voice low and warm.

Her voice comes through with a soft laugh, a little static in the background. “I always remember you exist,” she says. “Even when my coach is yelling and Misa’s playing DJ badly.”

You chuckle, adjusting your sunglasses. “Sounds like a dream. What made you call?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and it’s honest. “Wanted to hear your voice.”

You pause at that. Let it settle. “Miss me already?”

A silence. Then, quieter, “Yeah.”

You pull your knees up slightly on the lounger, resting your chin on top. “I’m in a bikini, just so you know. Really missing out.” You were joking but Alexia definitely pauses. “Cruel.”

“Just setting the scene.”

“I already hate this camp,” she mutters, and you laugh.

“Go on, then,” you say. “Tell me about your day.”

She does, the drills, the heat, how she nearly tripped over Laia in a possession game. You listen, smiling, eyes closed, soaking in the sound of her, the rhythm of her voice. “Did you see the stuff online?” she asks eventually, softer.

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” you admit.

“Okay.”

You love that about her. No push. Just space. Just her.

“I’m proud of you, by the way,” she adds. “For not letting them decide what happens next.”

You smile, lips pressed together. “Thanks. That means more than you probably realise.”

You can almost hear her smile. “Are you going to swim after this?” she asks, tone lighter.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I just want the image. You know… for morale.”

You laugh, leaning your head back, full-bodied this time. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re distracting,” she fires back, smirking through the line.

“Good.”

“So… Misa said something earlier,” she starts, tone casual but laced with a thread of something else.

“Oh?”

“She was reading stuff online about you, and she said—” Alexia clears her throat. “She said maybe it’s time you conquered the Spanish league.”

You lean back again on your lounger, stretching, the sun warm on your chest. “Well,” you drawl, “I do love a new challenge.”

“I told her to shut up,” Alexia says quickly, but there’s a smile behind it.

You smirk, one eyebrow raised. “Why? Because she was right?”

“No,” Alexia deadpans. “Because I didn’t want her scouting you.”

You let the silence hang, playful. “Should I text my agent? See if Real Madrid are in the market?”

There’s a pause long enough to make you grin, “Don’t you dare,” she mutters, but her voice is light the edge of a laugh tucked behind every syllable.

“You’d fall out with me?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“I’d block your number.”

“Oh, ruthless.”

“But I’d still be checking your Instagram every morning.”

You laugh, tipping your head to the side, eyes closed. “I mean… you could have me closer,” you tease. “If someone else around here was bold enough to say what she really wants.”

Alexia’s quiet for a moment. Not heavy just… considered. “Maybe I am.”

Your stomach does a flip, but you don’t rush the silence. “Yeah?” you say finally.

“Yeah.” And then “But just for the record… if you ever wear white and gold, I’m fouling you every time i play you.”

You grin, biting your lip. “What about a little red and blue?”

This time, she laughs properly, low and delighted. “Now that’s more like it.” Alexia’s voice hums through the speaker, warm and unhurried now. “I’m just saying,” she murmurs, tone deliberately casual. “If you ever… happened to get the opportunity to play for Barcelona…”

You pause, one eyebrow raised, lips tugging into a grin. “Oh?” You tilt your head, biting your lip. “Wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“No,” she says, soft and sure. “I wouldn’t.”

You laugh gently, tapping the rim of your glass. “That sounds dangerously close to recruitment.”

“If I were recruiting,” she says, “I’d be way more convincing.”

You stretch your legs out, heart thudding just a little louder under your grin. “This isn’t convincing?”

She sighs, dramatic. “I’d buy you flowers.”

“You already did.”

“I’d take you for long walks along the training ground.”

You laugh. “Okay, romantic and tactical.”

“I’d promise to pass you the ball,” she adds.

“Oh, now we’re talking.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Unless you annoy me. Then I’ll ghost you on the pitch.”

“You already do that off it” you shoot back, after she apologised for next texting you like she promised when she got to camp.

“Lies.”

“Evidence-based truth.”

You’re both smiling now the kind of smiles you don’t need to see to feel. The kind that live in the quiet between words, in the softness under the jokes, then Alexia exhales, voice lowering again. “But really…” A pause. “If it ever happened… I wouldn’t just not mind. I’d… like it.”

You close your eyes. Let it settle. “Good to know,” you say quietly.

She’s quiet on the other end. Then, “You’d look good in blaugrana.”

You smirk, hand resting lightly over your chest, “You just want to steal my goals.”

She laughs, low and warm. “I want to keep you close.”

You let that sit there for a moment. It’s not a suggestion. Not a push. Just her giving you a piece of truth. You shift the phone to your other ear, voice dropping a little, grounding. “I told my agent to start asking around,” you admit. “If I can be bought out. Or loaned.”

The quiet on the other end changes not silence. Just focus.

“I can’t…” you sigh, thumb brushing your eyebrow. “I can’t sit on the bench for a year and a half. Or worse not even make it there like now. That’s not who I am. I’d rather fight somewhere new than fade where I am.”

Alexia doesn’t rush to answer, when she does, her voice is steadier than you expect. Warm. Clear. “I don’t want you to fade either. You're world class you should be playing”

You exhale, slowly. “I don’t know where I’ll go. I don’t even know what’s possible. But I know I’m not waiting around to be treated like I’m done.”

“You’re not done,” she says immediately. “You’re not even close.”

You smile again smaller this time, “I miss feeling like myself.”

“I see her,” Alexia says, quiet but full. “Every time I talk to you. Every time I think about you.”

That one makes you still, your fingers curl slightly against your leg, “Don’t,” you say softly, teasing edge still there, “make me cry in a bikini.”

Alexia laughs gently. “Then don’t cry. Just get ready.”

“For what?”

“For your next move,” she says. “For whatever’s coming next, because something is.”

You let out a breath that feels easier now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” she echoes.

⚽️

The sun’s dropping low, casting long shadows through the trees as you walk slowly along the gravel trail. Teddy’s off leash, bounding through dry grass like a creature reborn. Johnny, Ellie’s squat little Frenchie keeps closer to the path, snorting like a tiny engine every few steps.

Kika’s walking ahead with Ellie, her injured leg braced, but she’s keeping pace well enough. They’ve been swapping stories for the last ten minutes mostly nonsense until Ellie slows a little and drops back beside you.

“So,” she says, tossing a look over. “Everyone’s talking.”

You raise an eyebrow. “About?”

She grins. “You. Bayern. The whole silence-followed-by-transfer-window frenzy. Just wondering if we should be refreshing woso gossip Twitter.”

You exhale a laugh, but it’s tight. You don’t answer right away.

Kika glances back, curious. “Is it true? You’re getting iced out by the coach?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

Ellie whistles low. “Shit.”

You kick at a stone on the trail. “It’s complicated,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “I… may have gone on a date with her daughter.”

Both their heads whip around.

“What?” Ellie says, loudly enough to make Johnny bark once.

Kika freezes in her step.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “We went for drinks. It was fine. But we didn’t click. She made a big deal of it. Or… maybe I did. Doesn’t matter now.”

“And?” Ellie asks, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not worth getting benched over.”

You hesitate. “I still went back to hers. After. We had sex. And I left while she was asleep.”

Silence. Even Teddy seems to pause. Kika’s jaw drops. Ellie groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh, babe…”

You shrug again, arms crossed now. “I didn’t mean to ghost her. I just… didn’t want to stay.”

Kika finally lets out a soft laugh. “Well. That explains it.”

“Yeah.” You exhale, glancing at the sky. “Now her mum doesn’t speak to me directly. Everything’s through assistants. I haven’t started a match since.”

Ellie bumps your shoulder lightly. “For what it’s worth, still a dumb reason to tank a player’s career.”

You nod, grateful. “Tell that to her.”

“She’s bitter,” Kika says. “And clearly threatened.”

You don’t say anything to that. You don’t have to, because somewhere behind all that regret, the quiet truth is you understood your coaches decision. Even it came from a personal perspective not professional.

⚽️

You, Ellie, and Kika settle at a small terrace café tucked into the curve of the walking trail. Johnny, Ellie’s French bulldog, pants happily beneath the table, while Teddy curls beside him with quiet, golden indifference.

You’re picking at the last of your sandwich when your phone buzzes.

Alexia 🖤 Boarding now. See you soon.

You smile without even thinking thumb hovering over the screen then you pause and breathe.

You glance up. “Alright,” you say. “Before I reply to this, you both need to promise not to say anything.”

Ellie looks immediately intrigued. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Kika, quiet but curious, lifts an eyebrow. “Secret agent stuff?”

“Something like that.” You lean back in your seat, eyes flicking between them. “Promise?”

Ellie lifts a hand like she’s swearing into court. “I swear. Unless it’s illegal. Then I’m out.”

“It’s not illegal.”

“Then go on.”

You exhale. The words come slower than expected, but they come. “So… you remember that Champions League quarter-final? The one against Barça?”

Ellie nods. “Of course. You were ridiculous in that second half. Alexia was tracking you the whole time.”

You half-smile. “Yeah. So… it started there.”

Ellie leans forward, her face already lighting with disbelief. “Started?”

“I don’t know what it was,” you admit. “We were just… close the whole game. Flirty, almost? Lots of looks. Touches. Corners. I thought I imagined it.”

Kika’s watching you carefully now, quiet but focused.

“But then after the match,” you continue, “she asked to swap shirts. I didn’t think it’d go further.”

Ellie’s eyes widen.

“But we started messaging. DMing. Then texting.” You glance down at your drink. “She came to see me in Munich. Just for a few days and then I went to Barcelona stayed at her place. Met her sister who took me to a game”

Ellie’s hand slowly lifts to her forehead. “You’ve seen her house?”

You nod. “Twice.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“And then,” you continue, softer now, “we kissed. A couple times. Nothing rushed. And this time? She said she wanted me here when she got back from camp.”

There’s a long pause.

“I’m here… for her.”

Ellie stares at you, mouth parted. “And you’ve been telling everyone you’re just having time off?”

“Technically true.”

“But you’re sleeping at her place.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Ellie stares. Then bursts out, “This is huge! I thought you were just, like, walking the dog and brooding.”

“I am walking the dog and brooding.”

“With Alexia Putellas on the side!”

You laugh. “It’s not that serious, we share a bed but nothing happens”

Kika chimes in finally, voice thoughtful. “But it’s also… not nothing.”

That lands. You glance back down at your phone, rereading the message. “She’s on her way back now,” you say softly. “And I don’t know what it is between us, really. She doesn’t either, I think. But I like her.”

Ellie whistles low. “Yeah, I’d say you do.”

You smile, but it’s cautious. “It feels like friendship… but sometimes it’s more. I don’t know.”

Ellie nudges your arm. “Whatever it is, you look lighter talking about her.”

You glance sideways. “Do I?”

Kika nods. “Yeah. You really do.”

⚽️

The front door swings open, keys clinking into the ceramic bowl by habit. Alexia exhales, the quiet of the house greeting her like a warm tide. She drops her gym bag just inside the threshold and kicks off her shoes.

“Hola!” she calls, voice casual, unsure if you’re upstairs or out with Teddy still.

She’s halfway through tugging off her sweatshirt when she hears the soft sound of bare feet padding down the stairs.

She glances up and freezes, because there you are.

Hair still damp from the pool, hoodie slung loose over your shoulders and unzipped all the way revealing your bikini. Legs bare. Skin kissed golden by the sun. And that easy, slow smile playing at your lips, like you know exactly what you're doing.

Alexia’s hand falters in her sleeve.

“Hey,” you say, leaning lazily into the bannister.

Alexia stares for a heartbeat too long. Then blinks. Then forces a smile that’s a little too tight around the edges. She goes to say something, anything, but instead, the keys slip right out of her hand and clatter to the floor.

“Hi,” she says, voice about half an octave higher than usual.

You smirk. “You okay there, champ?”

“I—yeah, I just…” She gestures vaguely toward her gym bag, like that explains anything. “Didn’t expect you to be home.”

You tilt your head. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”

Her eyes do a quick circuit, collarbone, boobs, abs, the line of your thigh, back to your face. She tries to act like she didn’t just get caught, but her ears are pink. “No,” she says, too fast. Then clears her throat. “I mean, no, it’s nice. You're here. That you're… here. I did ask you to be here after all”

You step down another stair, slow and deliberate. “Want to join me out back? The water’s cool.”

Alexia looks at you like she’s buffering, a blink, a small nod that doesn’t lead anywhere. “I should probably shower first,” she mumbles, eyes absolutely not dropping to your chest again.

You lift a brow. “Or… skip it. You look clean to me.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, like it might help her focus. It doesn’t. She meets your gaze and tries for something casual, something easy, but it comes out breathy and a little too soft, “Are you trying to distract me from something? Did you break something?”

You’re at the bottom step now, in front of her, hands tucked into your hoodie pockets, gaze locked with hers, calm, unreadable, dangerous, “Only if it’s working.”

Alexia exhales a short laugh caught somewhere between flustered and surrendering. Then, helplessly warm, “I'll meet you out there, I'm going to grab a drink” ⚽️

You’re stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool, sunglasses on, skin still damp from your last swim, a glass of iced water balanced on your stomach.

The patio door slides open behind you, and you hear the sound of her sliders before her voice follows.

“Did you paint the gym?”

You look up over your glasses to find Alexia standing there, one brow arched, arms crossed, clearly trying to sound neutral but there’s something else behind it. Surprise. Maybe even something a little softer. You push your glasses up and sit up on your elbows. “Yeah.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “You painted it.”

“Sure did,” you say, a little grin tugging at your mouth.

“Why?”

You shrug, glancing out at the water. “Because you’ve been talking about wanting to for weeks and haven’t had the time. And the paint was just sitting there.”

She takes a step closer. “So you just… did it?”

You nod once, then pause, voice quieting a little. “You let me stay here. You fed me. You don’t complain when I eat the last of the cereal or hog the shower or accidentally steal your hoodie for three days.”

That earns a small smirk from her, but she stays quiet.

“And you help more than you realise with everything. So I figured painting a room was the least I could do.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Just the faint sound of pool water lapping at the edges and a bird somewhere in the garden. Then she huffs, soft and amused, and you catch the way her mouth fights back a smile. “You’re such a pain,” she says, but it sounds suspiciously like thank you.

You flash her a lazy grin. “You love it”

She rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t reach her because her gaze lingers on you, warm and full of something you don’t need to name. “…You missed a corner,” she says eventually, turning to head back inside.

You laugh. “Liar.”

Her voice drifts back over her shoulder.

“Come see for yourself.”

Your phone buzzes against the glass table beside you. You reach for it lazily, expecting some nothing text and freeze for half a second when you see your agent’s name lighting up the screen.

You sit up straighter in the lounge chair, slide your finger across the screen.

“Hey,” you answer, trying to sound casual, but your stomach’s already tightening.

“Got a minute?” she says, already brisk. “Just came off two more calls. Offers are still coming in.”

"Ok, what we working with?"

“…Yeah, I got the email from Chicago. Loan only, same salary. Portland’s offering more, but it’s still a temp deal,” she says, voice clipped with focus. “Roma wants a full contract, salary’s solid, but the clause structure’s messy. Wolfsburg’s interested but nothing concrete. PSG’s trying to be flashy. Again.”

The sliding door opens, and Alexia steps out. You glance up briefly and your words stall at the back of your throat for half a second and you forget all together what you were doing to say.

Because there she is, again this time in her bikini, low-cut top, sleek black bottoms, hair pulled back just the way you liked. She’s not looking at you, not saying a word just walks over quietly and sinks into the lounger beside yours with her water bottle, like she hasn’t just turned the sun up another twenty degrees.

You clear your throat and try to pull your brain back into the conversation. “Sorry. Right. Yeah. I’ve got… options then.”

Your agent laughs softly on the other end. “You’ve got the whole map of Europe and half the NWSL at your feet.”

You give a dry huff. “That’s not stressful at all.”

There’s a pause. Then your agent says, voice more serious now, “Best offer so far is from Barcelona.” You blink. “They’re not the highest-paying,” your agent continues, “but the fit, the team, the project, it’s strong. They want you long-term. You’d actually play. And they’re being real about it no fluff, they want a meeting with you. I feel what they've offered isn't there best theres room to haggle with them for sure”

You chew your lip, eyes flicking toward Alexia without turning your head. She’s still looking ahead, unreadable behind her sunglasses, but her fingers tighten just slightly on her water bottle like she can hear every word.

“And then there’s Lyon,” your agent adds. “They’ve upped their offer twice already. Crazy money. They want to win Champions League again, and they want you there for it, they think you could be the deciding factor to get there again.”

You lean back against the chair, letting the weight of it all settle over you for a second. The choices. The change. The future.

Your agent’s voice comes steady through the line. “So… want me to book the meeting with Barcelona? They’re asking for a sit-down. Nothing formal, just a talk. See where your head’s at.”

You pause, the silence stretching just a little too long.

Beside you, Alexia still hasn’t said a word. But you can feel her eyes on you now not directly, but in the way her body has gone still. Listening more closely. Waiting, for any clue to what was going on.

You exhale, sit forward, elbows resting on your knees. “Yeah,” you say quietly, but firm. “Set it up.”

“Tomorrow works?”

“Anytime,” you say. Then, without really thinking about it, “I’m here already. Visiting friends.”

Alexia doesn’t react. Not visibly, but you catch the tiny shift in her breath. The twitch of her fingers where they brush the condensation on her water bottle. That faint tightening around her mouth just for a second before it smooths out again.

“Alright,” your agent says. “I’ll confirm and send you the details. You’ll kill it, wherever you go.”

You murmur your thanks, and the line goes dead.

You set the phone down slowly, the buzz of decision still humming through your chest. Then you lean back again, turning your head just enough to glance at Alexia.

And then, softly, without looking at you Alexia asks, “What did she say?”

You glance over. She’s still facing forward, sunglasses on, but her voice gives her away casual on the surface, but too careful. Too not curious to be anything but.

You take a breath. “She ran through all the offers,” you say, watching her. “The best one so far’s Barça, Lyon seem very keen but overall the best ones Barca” Alexia doesn’t move, but something in her shoulders shifts then you add, gentler, “She’s setting up a meeting. Tomorrow.” You study her a second longer, then nudge her foot with yours. “I didn’t say yes.”

She finally turns her head toward you, expression unreadable behind the lenses. “But you didn’t say no either.”

“No,” you admit. “I didn’t.”

The silence between you lingers not awkward, but charged. Then Alexia shifts beside you, pulling her phone into her lap and unlocking it with a swipe of her thumb.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just taps a few times, then angles the screen toward you.

“Pere sent something,” she says quietly.

You lean over slightly to read. It’s the team group chat a flood of messages, emojis, a few memes but right in the middle is a message from Pere:

🔔 Important — for tomorrow. Need a few of you to come in for a club meeting. Nothing mandatory, just a presence. Volunteers only. Won’t take long. Let me know.

Below it, a trickle of responses. A thumbs-up from Aitana. A quick "I can" from Ingrid and Mapi. A few others.

“Pere messaged me directly,” she says after a beat, voice low. “Said there’s an important meeting tomorrow. Asked if I could make myself available.”

You glance at her. Her tone’s different now careful. Like she’s testing the water before stepping in. You tilt your head. “The meeting with me?”

She nods once. “Looks like it.” A pause. “I can make an excuse,” she adds quickly. “Say I’ve got physio or something. If it’s weird. If you don’t want me there.”

You study her the way she won’t quite meet your eyes, the way she’s trying to give you an out even if she doesn’t really want to. You let the silence stretch just long enough to make her start to squirm. Then you smirk. “Oh, so they’re bringing out the big guns for me now?”

Alexia lets out a short laugh, shaking her head, but you catch the small exhale of relief that slips out with it.

“I’m just saying,” you add, nudging her leg with yours, “if this is your club’s strategy to win me over, it’s not subtle.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not strategy, it’s… logistics.”

“Uh-huh. Logistics in a bikini.”

She laughs again, then quiets. More softly now, “Seriously, though. Are you okay with me being there?”

You look at her for a long second and nod. “Yeah,” you say. “and i'm intrigued how they’re going to use you to woo me”

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around. 

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself. 

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice. 

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language. 

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair. 

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead. 

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside. 

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened. 

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day. 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day. 

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!” 

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out. 

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. 

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.” 

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up. 

“You think you can scare me?” 

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you. 

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.” 

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up? 

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him. 

And you did. 

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend. 

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option. 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?” 

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!” 

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip. 

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes. 

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam. 

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?” 

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.” 

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again. 

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous. 

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything. 

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.” 

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.” 

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again. 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.” 

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.” 

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?” 

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. 

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?” 

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.” 

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?” 

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.” 

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?” 

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?” 

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.” 

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid. 

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.” 

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side. 

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s. 

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it? 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?” 

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind. 

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her. 

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead. 

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?” 

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…” 

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin. 

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off. 

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights. 

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more. 

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.” 

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” 

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. 

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly. 

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble. 

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game. 

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. 

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go. 

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked. 

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair. 

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.” 

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them. 

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” 

“Okay, stop calling them that.” 

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.” 

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.” 

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.” 

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat. 

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” 

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.” 

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself. 

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.” 

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.” 

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you. 

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. 

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes. 

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him. 

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften. 

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line. 

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. 

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke. 

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?” 

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory. 

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke. 

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?” 

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible. 

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.” 

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?” 

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.” 

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. 

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. 

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.” 

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second. 

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible. 

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.” 

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot. 

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car. 

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine. 

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good. 

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” 

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it. 

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–” 

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can. 

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.” 

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly. 

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side. 

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head. 

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!” 

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night. 

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together. 

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?” 

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible. 

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it? 

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.” 

“And are you now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?” 

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else. 

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.” 

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you. 

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.” 

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.” 

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him. 

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.” 

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.” 

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” 

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. 

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess. 

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words. 

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– 

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way. 

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?” 

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.” 

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat. 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.” 

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good. 

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes. 

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.” 

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.” 

“What?” 

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains. 

“What is it about?” 

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit. 

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.” 

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it. 

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything. 

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.” 

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream. 

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of. 

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now. 

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing. 

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning. 

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies. 

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. 

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.�� He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you. 

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. 

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?” 

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” 

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” 

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream. 

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours. 

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend. 

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.” 

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.” 

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again. 

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up. 

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling. 

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone. 

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.” 

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end. 

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. 

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.” 

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.” 

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option. 

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for. 

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.” 

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of. 

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love. 

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.” 

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart. 

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table. 

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?” 

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could. 

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–” 

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.” 

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him. 

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you. 

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it. 

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue. 

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.” 

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day. 

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him. 

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

“Megumi, obviously.” 

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.” 

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing. 

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now. 

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

 “All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen. 

“Why would I have a problem with anything?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case. 

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.” 

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you. 

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything. 

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.” 

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.” 

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute. 

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am. 

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing. 

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario. 

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent. 

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves. 

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly. 

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room. 

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling. 

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?” 

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.” 

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you. 

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode. 

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants. 

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well. 

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?” 

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body. 

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…” 

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot. 

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth. 

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you. 

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.” 

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface. 

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary. 

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you. 

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.” 

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?” 

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.” 

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?” 

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room. 

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.” 

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips. 

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough. 

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.” 

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper. 

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.” 

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now. 

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun. 

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately. 

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.” 

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable. 

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these. 

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile. 

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well. 

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before. 

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief. 

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. 

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself. 

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing. 

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?” 

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck. 

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could. 

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body. 

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple. 

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts. 

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.” 

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago. 

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose. 

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so? 

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure. 

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously. 

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else? 

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that? 

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions. 

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom. 

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor. 

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding. 

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving. 

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.  

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good. 

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so. 

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @heesmiles @t-102 @jellyyjn @feet4liferss @soobinieswife @yunxiang0524 @xodidarks @jellyyjn @bunniwords @cocoalmond @tteokbunni @chaotic-floral @fancypeacepersona @beomgyusluver @ros1eluvsbinnie ✶⋆

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[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: how do the tkdb boys react to being hooked up to the menstrual cramp simulator?

WARNINGS: talk of menstruation, eating troubles in sho's.

COMMENTS: tried to keep in mind that most boys dont have periods on their minds like . most of the time i would assume.

Jin never doubted that you were in pain, but he has no doubt he’s made you work while you have your period. Going through the simulator, he sits there with his back hunched after level six. Once you get him out of the machine, he tells you to take the rest of the day off. The next time he sees you he asks what you need to minimize the pain.

Tohma is as cool as a cucumber until the very last levels. It’s a bit unsatisfying that he doesn’t really give you a reaction, but he does acknowledge that it hurts. Mentions that if you ever need assistance with your cycle, he would be more than happy to help out. It sounds sketchy but...well, that’s up for your interpretation.

Luca will see it through. You can keep upping the levels and he won’t tap out, he will stick to it until the very end. The second you turn it off and he takes off the pads, he’s immediately apologizing. Luca swears up and down that he will do anything to help you out with your period from now on.

Kaito starts flinching and whining after level four. Three, even. He has a low pain tolerance and HATES pain, but you know, he’ll do anything for you. Apologies over and over and taps out officially after level six. He’s sniveling and whining at your feet for the rest of the day.

Alan doesn’t flinch, but you can see him get progressively sadder. He looks at you like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders this whole time. He thanks you after you’ve turned the machine off, saying that he’s glad he understands you better now. Alan is the sweetest ever about it.

Sho is so, so worried about your stomach when you turn on the machine. Like, this already hurts. How do you eat and digest food effectively like this? The higher the levels go the more in pain he looks, and after it’s all said and done he’s asking you if you need him to make the lightest soup known to man so you don’t get sick and puke everywhere. Worrywart.

Leo would ham it up if it was for a camera, but since you promised you weren’t filming (and he likes you enough to believe you), he gives you his...authentic reactions. Whether you believe him or not is up to you. He looks like he’s in pain from about level five...but how much of that can you trust?

Haru is clutching your thighs, knelt in front of you at your feet, apologizing over and over for all the times he called you over when you might have been on your period. Key word: might. Haru just doesn’t want to hurt you! To think, you suffer so much every month...it’s unthinkable. And yes, Haru could withstand all of the levels and more, but you? This amount of pain shouldn’t happen to you.

Towa doesn’t quite understand it, and he’ll get a little grumpy after you put him through all that pain. But once it clicks that you go through that every month, Towa is politely asking you if there’s anything he can do to stop your pain. (And by politely, of course I mean threatening someone.) He needs to protect you! How is he supposed to do that from an unseen threat?

Ren snorts and says it's not that big of a deal at first, but you can tell that he’s in pain after level six. Once it's over, he’ll find ways to pamper you in subtle ways, because now that hurts like a bitch. He won’t say it out loud, he never does. But you can tell by the way his hands were clenched into fists that he was struggling.

Taiga could go one of two ways: he gets sick of it after level eight and yanks it off, getting pissy because you approached him in a bad mood just to put him in more pain, OR he thinks of it as a fun game and describes exactly how he feels to you while lounging on the couch. Tells you he’s proud of you for being such a tough kitty.

Romeo yells at you to get on with it! if you’re taking too long. He doesn’t take kindly to slackers, and his time is precious, so—OW. Romeo hisses through his teeth, wincing at the sudden stab of pain. Is this really how it feels? He demands to know. How could you not tell him your cramps hurt like this!?

Ritsu is as attentive as always, doing prior research beforehand. He comes to you with what he believes cramps may feel like and asks for clarification, only to be hooked up to the machine. He does well for the first half, then starts to furrowed his brow after level seven.  Damn Sinostra and their good pain tolerances!

Subaru is ready and willing to connect with you like this. It’s an honor and a privilege to be someone to you, and so he will do his best to tell you what he honestly thinks. For the first few levels, his expression is mostly blank. The fourth level is when a small gasp escapes his throat and his eyes go wide. Another one who apologizes immediately after you get the machine off of him.

Haku takes it easy, allowing you to hook him up to the simulator. Whatever his princess wants, he’ll get. Something about the way you look at him tells him that you’re getting a kick out of this—so he’ll tell you what he honestly thinks, and then proceed to ask you more questions about your cycle.

Zenji wants nothing more than to understand you and your pain. If you ask him, this is a logical solution! If anything, he asked if there was a way to feel your pain first. Another one who cries when it gets past level four. You’re so strong, he’s going to compose ballads about your bravery!

Edward is a little shit about it. I can’t decide whether he wouldn’t know anything about periods or whether he’d watch random YouTube videos about it because he’s weird. Probably the latter. Assuming he knows, he’d ask you about your symptoms and pain levels WHILE the simulator is going. Once it’s over and he’s given you zero reaction, he tells you he can smell it on you whenever it happens. He’s so weird T0T

Rui will wait on you every month after this. He’s devastated that you have to go through something like this every month, and he can’t even hold you. I’m not even kidding this man will start to CRY. He’s so sad that you have all this pain. It should have been him. WHY WASN’T IT HIM.

Lyca wants to feel what you feel. Literally the meme “it’s uterUS.” If you’re going to go through this pain, he should know how to feel to better help you, obviously. Now, Lyca doesn’t regret that decision, but he does have some words for the fucker who made you have those cramps. What do you mean it just happens!?

Yuri knows how periods work—he has students in Mortkranken and other houses who come to him for products and painkillers. But experiencing it? He’s trying his best to remain composed but will tap out after level seven. Cannot handle that much pain, plus his ego is bruised now. Tell him he did a good job. :(

Jiro stares you dead in the face while you up the levels one after another, searching for any sort of reaction from him. Honestly, Jiro has the highest pain tolerance. He’s the type to ask why you haven’t started it yet when you’re on level seven. I’m sorry T0T

[esstrellaa123]

I’m so tired.

Anyways, im writing something rn, but haven’t the time to 😭😔

But, (completely unrelated- might become related if I decide to write it in? I don’t plan on it though) Simon Riley (ugh, looooove that man) who tells you what to do.

——————

You were having a tough day, hoping to come home and just relax with your… boyfriend? Definitely boyfriend….? You think he is anyway. He should really ask you out.

“You look like shite.” He greets.

“Thanks. Just what I needed.” You reply dryly, letting him take off your coat and unlace your shoes.

“Tough day?” He asks though he already knows the answer.

“Tough fuckin’ life.” You mumble back, clenching and unclenching your toes in an attempt the alleviate some of the pain.

“Cmon. Up.” He says. It was a command, though rather gentle. Didn’t stop the hint of pink that dusted your cheeks. You’ve noticed that you like being told what to do. By him and him only- to be specific.

You stand, following him quietly.

After a much needed bath, you turn over in bed, hands wrapped delicately around your phone as you scroll through social media.

A quiet laugh falls from your lips as you watch another skit.

You feel the sheets shift before hearing his soft tone.

“Phone off dove. Gotta go to sleep.”

“‘M not tired.” You retort, not paying much attention to him and his words. Or his heat.

“And ‘m not asking.” He says just as flat as usual.

“….” You say nothing, mulling over his words. “Can’t tell me what to do.” You finally settle on, scrolling to another video.

“Dove.” He states, not used to being told that. People listened when he talked. It was what he was used to.

“Simon.” You quip back, knowing you were pissing him off slightly, but it was just too much fun.

“Put the phone down. You need sleep.” He says, stiffly this time.

“No.”

“…..”

You feel the bed shift again before he’s out and standing over you.

Of course, you look up at him, watching him silently before he gives you a look and you challenge it. Enjoying the game you knew you’d always lose to him.

“Please just listen to me.” Simon says, his restraint apparent in his eyes and curt tone. You knew he wanted to speak more.

‘Or what?’ Lingering in the air. But you knew what else. You test your luck anyway.

“Or else what?” You ask, a smirk on your face as you watch his contort.

“Or else I’ll leave you too fucked out to think properly.”

“….”

He gives a smug look to which you roll your eyes at, setting your phone down.

“Only because I am a little tired.” You huff, turning over.

“Right.” He almost growls, climbing back into bed with you, pulling you close as you melt into his touch.

——————

“Don’t touch that.” He says sternly, watching you intensely as your intrusive thoughts come to play with his patience.

“Or what?” You ask.

“Or else what?” He asks, stalking towards you, looming over you, making you crane your neck just to look into his dark eyes.

“No.” Is all you mutter.

He says nothing, leaving you with a grunt as you practically melt against the kitchen counter.

——————

“Turn around.” He says, watching as you put on a fashion show for him.

You turn of course, giving him a nice view of the entire outfit.

“Good girl.” He mumbles, legs spread wide, head resting on his knuckles.

You trip over air.

——————

“Need you to eat something birdie.”

“Not hungry.”

“Still wasn’t asking.”

You grumble, side eyeing him with each bite.

——————

“Quit it.” He practically snaps at you as you sit in his lap.

Heads turn to you and your cheeks burn. Not because everyone around you is wondering if you’re in an abusive relationship, but because it really turned you on.

——————

“You just don’t listen, do you?” Simon asks, watching you wander off in the store, heading towards your favorite aisle.

……

“Hands on the trolley.” He tells you, standing behind you like a looming cloud. “Both. Hands.” He reiterates, watching you glare at him.

Two soft taps on your hip is enough validation that you’re doing good to make you forget about why you’re mad at him.

——————

“Like being told what to do, don’t you?” He asks, watching your face contort in pleasure.

It had started off innocent enough. Him commanding you through your daily tasks. But it was too much. Too much at the time and too much of his voice and his smell and his accent and shit he’s shirtless telling you to quiet down.

He was yours to pounce on, no?

You nod your head, nails digging into the soft flesh between his neck and shoulders.

“Hands on my stomach.” He instructs, and you do as your told, fucking your self back down onto his thick cock.

You nails dig into that too, red crescents left in your wake as you move a little faster to get yourself off.

“Slow down bunny. Jesus.” He groans, grabbing onto your hips. You should feel embarrassed. Embarrassed to be so eager to be on top. It only makes you more wet though.

——————

“Come here.” He instructs from across the room. You listen, quickly making your way to his side.

——————

Okay goodnight :)

[lavenderleahy]

took a break from my crochet project tonight to write a silly little thing inspired by a convo with @monsterrae1 @strawlessandbraless and @theeternalghost. if I had more time i'd flesh it out but right now all you get is... this. in all its unedited and underdeveloped glory.

Dean meets buddietommy on a case | 1,045 words

Dean knocks on the door of the modest LA home. The police sergeant, Athena Grant, gave him the address after he interviewed her.

He knows the house is inhabited by one of the firefighters who was at the scene, but he's completely taken aback by the man who opens the door. At six feet tall, Dean isn't a small man, but he feels dwarfed in comparison to the burly blonde in front of him. The man is only a couple inches taller than him, but he is built; toned muscles bulge from his chest and arms, and his legs are thick as tree trunks. And he has a jawline as chiseled as one of Michelangelo's statues. Subconsciously, Dean gulps.

Then he remembers why he's here. Clumsily, he reaches for his badge and holds it up in front of him. "Um, Agent Page, FBI. You must be Evan Buckley. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

The man smiles widely, his eyes crinkling in the corner. "Oh, I'm not Evan. That's my partner. I'm Tommy. Kinard." He holds out his hand, which Dean shakes after storing his fake FBI badge back in his sport coat pocket. "But come in. I'll get Evan."

Dean steps in, taking in the very well lived-in home. The entry leads right into the living room, where a teenage boy sits on the couch playing Mario Kart.

From a room that must be the kitchen, another man appears, somehow just as large as the first one. Holy hell. What is it about LA that makes their firefighters so… well-built and handsome?

"Hi, Agent Page, I'm Evan Buckley. Sorry about the mix-up. So 'Thena sent you?"

"Yeah, that's right." Dean says. He has to speak slowly and take deep breaths to keep himself from staring too brazenly; however, he can't help but notice the blotchy red birthmark in the corner of the firefighter's eye. It suits him, though. He takes a breath in through his nose. "Is there somewhere we can sit?"

Evan jumps. "Oh yes, of course. Uh, the dining room is fine. Don't think you want to talk over the noise of the video games."

Dean chuckles. "Is that… your son?"

"Chris? I mean, yeah, he might as well be. He's Eddie's kid, but, yeah. I haven't adopted him or anything, and he doesn't call me dad 'cause it'd be weird at this point, but I love him like he's my own."

Warmth blooms in Dean's chest as he listens to Evan Buckley speak. He understands the feeling, as he feels the same way about Jack.

"In fact, do you want me to get Eddie? He was there, too. We usually work the same shifts. He's just in the garage if you want me to—"

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Mr. Buckley."

"Please, call me Buck."

"Well, Buck, I'd rather interview Eddie separately, if you don't mind. It helps me get a fuller picture of the situation, to hear different perspectives."

Buck nods, understanding.

The interview begins, and Dean attempts to ascertain details of the odd call the firefighters of the 118 responded to the day prior. There was certainly supernatural activity, but Buck's answers are insufficient in determining the exact monster. There were no smells of sulfur, no cold spots ("We're in LA in the summer, what do you mean cold spots?"), and no calls outside the usual, aside from the one.

Apparently, they've responded to weirder: once, a bus impaled the third story of a city building.

After talking to Buck for about ten minutes, Tommy walks back in with two glasses of water. "Thought you could use a drink," he says, "and I didn't think beer was acceptable since you're on the job." He nods at Dean, who laughs in assent, then turns to Buck and kisses him right on the birth mark. "Let me know if you need anything else, sweetheart."

Buck's eyes turn soft and he smiles as he watches Tommy walk back into the kitchen.

Dean has to swallow to prevent his jaw from dropping. Meeting gay couples on cases isn't anything new, but seeing two very masculine men together… surprises him. Makes him feel…. something.

A few minutes after that, an unfamiliar voice calls into the living room. "Chris, I told you thirty minutes ago to get off that video game!"

That must be Eddie.

He peers into the dining room, wiping grease off his moustached face, and says, "Babe, why didn't you— oh. Hello?" he asks as he notices Dean.

"Eddie, this is Agent Page. He's here about yesterday. Sorry, love, I completely forgot to have Chris turn off the game."

Dean is trying to listen, but he barely registers their conversation. He just keeps looking back and forth between the two of them.

Eddie quirks a brow at him. "You all good there agent?"

Not for the first time that day, Dean gulps. "Uh yeah, sorry. It's just— you two? But I thought—" he points at Buck, "you and Tommy? Um. Sorry. 'S none of my business."

Buck and Eddie both grin. "Don't worry, we get that a lot," Buck says. "Yeah, the three of us are all together."

"All… three of you? At the same time?"

"Well don't you know it's rude to pry into the private affairs of couples?" Eddie responds with a wink. "Or in our case, throuples?"

"Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

But both of them start to laugh. "It's fine, Agent," Eddie says. "I'm just messing with you. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to trade places with Buck here so that he can be mean dad for the time being."

Buck rolls his eyes fondly. "You know how that usually turns out."

Eddie bumps his shoulder as he passes. "Well, try your best, dear."

It takes a moment for Dean to get his bearings after the exchange. It was… a lot to process. But he can't process it right now. He needs to focus. He needs to interview the firefighter in front of him.

As soon as he's done, though, he is going to make several phone calls.

____________________________________

Dean Winchester started a group chat

→ Castiel has joined the group chat

→ Benny Lafitte has joined the group chat

DW: so. something crazy happened today

[1425fivefive]

For the ask game: flip flop for a rimming scene in Ibiza from Afterburn (yes, I'm horny and I wanna hear Lando's slutty thoughts)

(for this ask game)

↻ FLIP FLOP: send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV! this is a scene from lando's pov during the summer break in ibiza in 2026

Lando woke up to Oscar’s lips on the back of his neck, Oscar’s hand sliding down his stomach to cup his still mostly-soft cock.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed, his voice raspy with sleep. “What’s all this for?”

“Dreamed about you,” Oscar murmured, nosing at his neck.

Lando felt a shiver run through him at the thought of Oscar dreaming about him, the intimacy of some version of him burrowing itself in Oscar’s subconscious. It felt like it meant something, and Lando let out a helpless little moan, grinding back against Oscar.

“Jesus, Lando,” Oscar whispered, his voice strained. “You want it so much.”

Lando nodded, because he did. He always wanted it, so badly that he felt like he might die sometimes if he didn’t get it. Like he’d vibrate out of his skin if Oscar wasn’t touching him, like he only existed when Oscar’s mouth was on him, kissing him, biting his nipples, licking him open.

And Oscar seemed to want it just as much. He couldn’t stop touching Lando. He’d fucked him on the kitchen island right after he’d gotten to the villa, so desperate for it he’d dropped his bags and hauled Lando onto the island, not even bothering to get Lando’s shirt off before he was sliding a condom on and slipping inside him. Lando felt delirious with how badly Oscar seemed to need him, how Oscar seemed determined to make him come over and over again, watching Lando with a stunned expression whenever Lando spilled over his stomach or into the wet heat of Oscar’s mouth.

Lando couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone so badly. It felt impossible, sometimes, that Oscar could feel the same.

But Oscar was rolling Lando onto his back, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Lando’s nipples, his stomach, his half-hard cock, and it seemed like Oscar wanted him so much, with an intensity that made Lando feel like he was burning, his skin flushing hot.

“Look so good like this,” Oscar murmured, awed, gazing up at him with an expression that felt devastatingly close to the same thing Lando felt. The thing Lando hadn’t put words to, even though he knew exactly what it was. The thing he’d never felt for anyone other than the man between his legs.

He let out a soft whimper, letting his thighs fall open. Oscar’s eyes drifted down to the space between his thighs, his lips parting on a breathless moan.

“Can you,” Lando whispered, and he got his hands behind his knees and pulled, spreading himself open for Oscar.

He could feel himself trembling with the intimacy of it. The sheets pooled around them, the soft morning light shining in through the open glass doors, the sound of the ocean in the distance. And the soft brush of Oscar’s lips against him, Oscar’s warm hands wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer. He had the delirious desire to film it so he could remember exactly how much Oscar wanted him, see it in the slow drag of Oscar’s mouth over his rim, the gentle pressure of Oscar’s thumbs on his hip bones, keeping him there.

He couldn’t believe how much Oscar seemed to like it. There wasn’t anything in it for Oscar and yet he seemed to like it so much, letting out these soft, pleased noises as he licked over Lando, a blissed-out expression on his face, like he’d be happy to stay between Lando’s legs forever, tasting him, feeling him, Lando’s thighs shaking with how good it felt.

Sometimes, Lando wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to come. He was so caught up in the overwhelming feeling of Oscar’s mouth on him that he forgot about his cock, forgot about anything other than the warm pressure of Oscar’s tongue.

But Oscar breathed, “Touch yourself,” and Lando listened, stunned by how hard he was, his belly a mess of pre-come already. 

He couldn’t jerk himself off the usual way, the tight grip too much. He settled for rubbing small, gentle circles over the head of his cock, his eyebrows knitting tight as he felt his orgasm build throughout his entire body, his toes curling as Oscar mouthed wetly at his rim, watching him with dark eyes.

He heard himself gasp Oscar’s name, high and breathy, and it felt like he was saying something else entirely, something awful and desperate and vulnerable. But Oscar moaned against him, and it felt like maybe Oscar understood, like maybe he felt the same.

Lando came like that, trembling as he spilled in slow, lazy waves under his palm, Oscar’s fingers digging into his hips, licking him through it, firm and steady.

Oscar didn’t stop, even after he was finished coming. Just stayed between his legs, mouthing at his thighs, the tender skin below his balls, his softening cock.

Lando let him. His fingers dug into Oscar’s hair as he shivered under Oscar’s mouth, letting out soft little cries when Oscar sucked his cock into his mouth, moaning at the taste of him.

It felt so easy, with Oscar between his legs, quiet except for the morning bird songs and the waves crashing against the shore.

When Oscar climbed up the bed and pulled him into a kiss, tasting like him, Lando almost said it. But Oscar’s fingers were pressing against him and Lando couldn’t believe how open he was, Oscar able to slip into the second knuckle with nothing but spit and whatever lube was left from the night before to ease the way.

The moment passed.

[shortypipatrick]

One of the things about Hans is that he's fucking lonely. His parents died when he was very young, and he's being raised by his 'uncle', who, in theory, is meant to give Rattay over to him when he's of age. In the games, he's 19 or 20 (?). And so he has no family, really, except Hanush and whatever staff is raising him. The people he spends time with are all trying to train him to be a better noble, a better politician, someone who will do what they want when he's the lord of Rattay. And anyone who isn't, isn't around for him; they're there for Hanush. And even though Hans is a noble, he has no real claim - it belongs to Hanush - and on top of that, he's very young, and a little hot-headed - and immature, admittedly - so they just don't respect him. At all. It's made very clear at different points in both games; he's at the table because he's a noble, but no one thinks he's earned more respect than that.

And then the commoners he spends time around pretend. They pretend to like him, pretend to respect him, pretend, pretend. Because he is a noble, because he does have power over them, because if they don't, they could be in very real trouble. So they laugh at his jokes, listen to his stories, play dice with him and lose at practice duels.

And as soon as he's gone, they whisper about how bad he would be as a leader, how they don't want Hanush to hand over Rattay, how hes immature and childish and snobby and annoying....

And then, this orphan from Skalitz shows up, half dead after running for his life and being saved at great danger to some great knights, and he has the AUDACITY to ask Sir Radzig to be his squire.

And then Hans hates him - and Henry hates Hans. And they argue. And they duel with swords, they compete at archery, they get in a brawl at the tavern when Hans wants to ignore the rules, but Henry doesn't think he should be allowed to. And Hanush punishes them both by making them go hunting.

And Henry doesn't laugh just because Hans told a joke - he doesn't respect him just because he should. He argues, insults him, makes jokes at his expense, and then, even after all that, he saves his life

And they carry on like that. And Hans grows fonder and fonder of this boy from Skalitz who isn't afraid of him, who actually, truly does respect him, but doesn't kiss his ass just because he's supposed to. And he isn't Lonely, anymore. And that's huge for him. And I think it's a big part of why he fell so hard for a village yokel.

Theres also a lot of times where someone is just plain disrespectful to Hans - ignoring his ideas or just whatever he said or telling him it's bad or ETC, ETC - and Henry can step in and stand up for him. It's another one of those things that I imagine no one else ever did for him. His only family was Hanush, and he's plainly more concerned with Hans figuring out how to act appropriately in court than he is with listening to his ideas or whatever

And Henry gets SO mad and fuckin fights with him at the start of KCD2, and for a while, Hans is so mad that he called him out, told him he's a spoilt brat and a fool, and then, when he sees Henry again, he keeps up his stupid act until Henry is in trouble, and he's there immediately to back him up, at the cost of his own freedom and almost his life. Because Henry is his friend, and he cares for him very deeply.

(And also! After their fight, he's all "fuck off, I don't want to see you, I'll figure it out on my own," but if you find him out poaching, he'll still say "I'm trying to get money so WE can get into the wedding")

And also the whole time he's agnozing that he might actually lose Henry because of his behavior - he admits as much to Henry, which is not easy for him at all. And Henry reassures him he does care about him, and gives "his word as a blacksmith" that he won't leave his side.

Henry is something he's never had. He's honest, and he cares about Hans. He doesn't serve him platitudes or try to make him pleased because he should. He's unafraid to argue when Hans is wrong, or call him out on stupid ideas. But, even so, he'll argue to defend Hans against people he has no business arguing with, and he'll risk his life again and again to save him.

And Henry doesn't need great romance poems or epic stories; he just needs his honesty. When he tells Hans he cares, he doesn't make a big show, he just says it, every time. "I care about you, maybe more than you know." And how often has Hans had that?

Looking at all of it through the lens of Hans, how he was raised, how lonely he must have been. He needed Henry as much as Henry needed him. Their love is so wonderful, and it makes so much sense. I do hope the beautiful folks at Warhorse are unafraid to make it a bigger part of the next game.

[rensficreblogs]

Harumasa Asaba x gn! Reader. Reader is a newly hired assistant for Section Six.

A/N: Back at it again- I guess writing is more fun than I thought it would be.

On your first day working as an assistant to Section Six, you simply tried to observe what made the four core members tick. Soukaku was easy enough to figure out- she was extremely food and praise motivated. Captain Myabi seemed to be driven by a strong sense of justice and duty. Yanagi was a bit difficult to figure out, but you ultimately put together that she was the glue that kept Section Six running. 

Try as you might, you simply could not find the reason behind why Harumasa worked like he did. Well, maybe you should say why he didn’t work like he did. Most of his time at the office was spent daydreaming, napping, and chatting up anyone who would listen about anything other than the work in front of him. You were apparently one of his favorite victims for the ladder. 

“What’s your favorite place to get dinner?” He asked out of the blue when you walked past him with a fresh stack of copies hot off the printer. Your first day, and you were already being put to work running typical office errands, trying to help out in any way you could. 

“Um…” you thought for a moment, stopping adjacent to his messy desk “I guess waterfall soup? I haven’t really been able to get out to try much else,” you answered, just to give him an answer.

“Ah, the noodles there are super good. A friend of mine introduced me to them a couple of months ago,” he said with a smile. 

The very next day, he caught you in the hallway, refilling your water.

“Hey, what do you do when you aren’t working?” Harumasa asked like you two weren’t practically strangers.

Lifting your finger from the button to dispense water, you looked over at him, “Well, besides sleeping and eating and stuff, sometimes I play games or watch movies-“

“You like movies?” He interrupted, “What kind?”

Truly a man of a million questions, this one. Before you could give an answer, Yanagi seemed to appear from thin air, ready to whisk you away.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she began in her ever calm and cool voice, “but could you come help me with these papers for a moment?” 

You quickly turned to face her, not wanting to disappoint your superior so early in your employment.

“Right, of course,” you began to walk away, freshly filled water bottle in hand, but not before turning to the man leaning against the water cooler. “Sorry, we can talk later, ok?” 

By the look on his face, he seemed slightly disappointed, but he still replied with a quiet “yeah, sure…”

The next few days on the job were much of the same- running around, taking care of whatever you were asked to, and, of course, more seemingly endless and random questions from Harumasa.

On Friday, he approached you at your desk just as you were finishing up your lunch.

“Hey there, are you doing anything after work today?” He inquired as he placed both hands against the desktop and leaned forward towards where you sat.

You thought for a moment- the only thing you could come up with is that you needed to do laundry.

“No, I should be free, why?”

“The other day, you said you liked movies, and I just so happen to know some people who own a great video store down on Sixth Street. You in?” He asked, looking down at you with those bright gold eyes. 

Perhaps it was out of fear of disappointing your coworkers, maybe it was genuine curiosity, but you nodded.

“Sure, sounds good. I’ll meet you at your desk after I clock out,” you replied with a small smile.

He clapped his hands together “Great, see you then!” He exclaimed. Then, off he skipped back to another part of the office. 

For the rest of the day, you found it hard to focus on work. Thankfully, you didn’t make any big slip-ups that could get you reprimanded. Eventually, you made it to the end of the workday.

You couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or excitement you were feeling at the idea of being invited to go somewhere by a coworker. On one hand, this had never happened before- on the other hand, this had never happened before. 

Your feet seemed to move on autopilot as you fell more and more into your own thoughts. Soon, you found yourself standing in front of his desk, just as promised. It seemed that he had just woken up from one of his naps just moments before, if his big yawn and stretch were anything to go by.

“You ready?” He asked sleepily. You nodded and he stood up with a smile, beginning to place some of his personal belongings in his bag.

He chatted at you pretty much the entire journey- all the way from the office, to the train, and to Sixth Street before he went quiet for a moment.

“Here we are- Random Play! Best video store around,” he leaned closer to you with a smirk “And trust me, I know all the best places.”

With that, he led the way to the front door, opening it for you and everything.

“Welcome in- oh, hey Harumasa, long time no see!” The grey haired man behind the counter greeted. “And who’s this with you today?” He asked.

Harumasa chuckled a bit, closing the door behind you both. “Ah, this is (y/n), section six’s new assistant. (Y/n), this is Wise, he and his sister run this joint,” he said, gesturing to the man you now knew as Wise.

“Nice to meet you,” he said with a small smile and wave.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you returned the greeting.

“Now,” Harumasa interjects, “pick out anything you like, it’s on me. Think of it as a little welcome to the group gift, yeah?”

Not wanting to be rude, you thanked him before moving to peruse the selection of videos on display while Harumasa sauntered over to the front to chat with Wise. 

As you picked up a tape- seemingly an action film from a few years ago- a girl with a box full of videos slid up next to you.

“Don’t feel too bad or like you’re taking advantage. When he says ‘it’s on me’, he means with his discount,” she giggles. This must be Wise’s sister- they had the same eyes. “I’m Belle by the way,” she says with a smile.

Just then, you felt an arm lay across your shoulders. “Find anything good?” Harumasa asked. Based on what you had observed at work, he was a rather touchy person, always giving out hugs and putting his hand on people’s shoulders. 

You tried to just ignore his affection. “This one looks interesting,” you held up the brightly packaged tape for him to see.

“Oh, I love this one,” he said, with a bright smile.

“It’s one of our favorites, too!” Belle chimed in.

“Well, in that case,” Harumasa began, “guess we’ll have to get this one,”

Suddenly, the tape is snatched out of your hand and out of your reach.

“Oh no, guess I have it now,” he taunted, skipping to the front desk and passing Wise a few dennies.

“Guess if you want to watch it, you’ll have to come over to my place this weekend,” he smiled.

As those words left his mouth, you felt your face start to flush. Belle and Wise giggled slightly at your expense while Harumasa simply shrugged with a coy smirk in your direction. It would seem this was all a part of his master plan.

[starry-eyedromantics]

Kneel

A Loki fic

Summary: Your mission goes wrong when trying to detain Loki once and for all, leaving you in his path of his tricks and charm.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Rating: Explicit [Minors DO NOT INTERACT]

Warnings: some violence, cussing, praise kink, oral, dirty smutty filthy Loki thoughts I had Saturday night🫣

A/n: Hello friends! First Loki fic I’ve ever written! I know I’m very late to write something for MCU especially about Loki but I had to write this!🫣 I don’t know where the inspo came from but the man has always been on my brain it seems. I mean… I wouldn’t mind kneeling for him😉 Please enjoy!

💫

Your hands trembled as you triple-checked your armor. You could get dressed in the dark and easily have all your armor on in a matter of seconds, but today was different. Today was the moment you put all your training to use. 

After being on the front lines battling the Dark Elves for the last year, you came back to Asgard to fight something more powerful. 

Loki. 

You excelled in all your training, and your commanders noticed it. You didn’t think you were any more special, you just knew how to fight well and outsmart your opponent. Your commander said those skills were pivotal when facing Loki. Loki was the smartest of them all. He was a trickster after all. He used his power to deceive those around him, and he would always win. You felt you had a real shot at taking him down once and for all and putting him in his cage where he belongs. 

With Thor on Earth fighting the Dark Elves that were causing havoc on that planet, Loki was causing his own mess here. Someone needed to step in and to try to control him. The tyranny that he was committing against Asgard was appalling. There was no stopping him and he was demanding everyone to do his bidding. Someone was bound to get hurt. 

There was a team of twelve of you going to the palace where spies had their eyes on Loki's every move. They’ve been waiting for the right time for this siege, and with no telling when Thor might come back, it’s up to your regime to put a stop to him. At least for a little while. 

The attack was simple. There were four different entrances into the throne room, where he enjoyed spending his time, so it was easy to get him cornered in there. Once in there, you had to attack quickly. There was no time for negotiations. He wasn’t exactly the type for a compromise. 

Your heart pounded in your ears as you all closed in on the palace doors. Fighting foreign forces on other planets never made you this nervous, even though you were more likely to get wounded or killed in a big battle. This was a different game. You were facing a God. His power was unmatched and extremely unpredictable. They supplied you with a scepter, silver in color and sharp at the end, which could potentially fight off a God for a brief amount of time. 

The door gets kicked in by your partner and all three of you rush in quickly, the thudding of your leather boots echo in the large throne room. The rest of your squad barges in and gets ten feet away from him, their scepters pointing right at him. 

You see him sitting on the throne, looking amused at you all. He looks almost bothered, actually. Like you all had the audacity to bother him at this time of day. He sat there with his horned helmet on, shining in this low light. His legs were spread open sitting there, one arm resting lazily over the edge of the throne and the other tightly holding onto his scepter. He looked powerful. He was someone you didn’t want to be around regularly. His golden scepter was forged by the Gods, you can just tell the way it was crafted. It was made for him and could harness his power through it, you were sure of that. 

For a moment, both of your eyes lock, and it does something abhorrent to you. Like you would do anything he asked of you. You liked how he was dangerous and unpredictable. He sizes everyone up, his eyes analyzing every person, and makes a mental note of how he’d like to take you down. For you in particular, he took his time, drinking in your figure in these tighter uniforms and making a mental note of how he wanted to take you down… in a very different way. Fuck the man was so dangerous. 

Your hands readjust and try to refocus. You couldn’t spare an ounce of your focus to take him down. He’d use that to his advantage. You all practiced this. You all stepped forward in unison, making the circle tighter around him. 

“You all are adorable. Is this supposed to scare me?” He scoffs with a smile on his face. He had this wicked smile, one that was devilish and so charming at the same time. 

“We have direct orders from Odin to take you into our custody. If you do not comply, we will have to use force.”

He snickers again, “Oh, I’d love to see that happen. Dad sent you? That's pretty rude, he could have just asked to see me. I would have loved to see old dad-.”

“Stop talking!” You snap to make him shut up. 

His piercing blue eyes dart directly at you. You suck in a breath as you can feel his anger waft through the room. He takes a few steps in your direction, the sharp, pointed scepter only inches away from him now. 

“What’s did you say?” He protests. 

“Don’t make another move!” You command, taking a few steps toward him too. 

“Or what? You’re going to ‘hurt’ me with your pointy spears? My father really should have sent more menacing people to come and detain me, this is just pathetic,” he grumbles, going back to his throne.

“Yes, I will! Don’t move!” You command loudly.

Everyone gets closer to him and tightens the circle once again. You all are touching shoulders and keep your scepter pointed at him. 

“Don’t make us hurt you,” the older squad member says, going up a few steps to where the throne sits. Your heart leaps out of your chest. He wasn’t supposed to make any impromptu decisions. He was supposed to stick to the plan! Anything can set Loki off. 

“You bore me,” Loki says, and with a wave of his hand, your squad member hurls backward in a green energy blast. His body hits the hard stone violently and collapses face-first onto the floor. He doesn’t move, and you all look back at Loki with terror. 

“Anyone else?” He smiles and stretches out his arm out, trying to be inviting. You don’t move a muscle and try to recalculate what you all should do. They did not prepare you for this type of unexpected tactic or how to handle each one of his powers. You didn’t think they knew all of Loki’s powers, so they couldn’t train you for all the unexpectedness. They assured you he was out of plays and would have to surrender to Odin sooner rather than later.

Another one of your squad members lunges on the side of Loki, and in the blink of an eye, his sector plunges into what looks like a projection of Loki on the throne. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, you have no idea where he’s disappeared. Everyone looks at each other stunned. You knew he could create illusions but you thought it would be obvious when he shifted into that image of himself. 

You quickly turn around and he’s nowhere to be found. You start to turn to see if he’s moved somewhere else in the room but you can’t see him. You start to hear your squad members scream and gasp and suddenly hit the walls like the other man did. 

You pivot back facing the throne and he’s sitting there bored. He somehow looks more menacing than when you first saw him with his horned helmet on and how he's eyeing you like prey. 

“Any other moves you want to pull like these idiots?” He asks you. With a motion of his hand, the bodies on the floor teleport somewhere else. 

The air felt still and cold as you both stared each other down in this empty room. 

“Where have you taken them?” You demand, taking a few steps forward and realizing what a stupid decision that is. He laughs at you mockingly and doesn’t look at you. 

“Answer me!” You snap. 

His eyes shoot back into yours and they make you freeze. 

“Must you ask so many questions! You should be thankful that I’ve spared you!”

“I’m not thanking you for anything. I have an order to take you in and that’s what I intend to do!”

You boldly move up the steps to the throne and point your scepter right in his face. Getting this close to him was a horrible decision. He was so alluring and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. You try to pull yourself together, trying not to let his charisma be the thing that gets you killed. You push the end of the spear at the bottom of his chin. He flashes another amused smile at you and cocks his head slightly when he looks at you. 

“Is this any way to treat your king?” He dared. 

“You are not the king! Odin is.”

“This is where I belong. I was born to lead. Odin is giving me his title and… taking a break,” he says menacingly. 

“I do not serve you!” You scowl, pressing the spear at his neck. 

He quickly rips the scepter from your hands and hurls it across the room. His hand wraps around your neck and he stands up, making you lock eyes with him. 

“I really wasn’t planning on hurting you but with that snide comment, I might have to reconsider,” he says through his teeth. You scratch at his arm that’s holding you and gasp for air. 

He leans in even closer and his chest heaves as he looks at you. 

“I am your king. You will serve me and only me. You will kneel to me because I demand it,” he says scathingly. 

Everything inside you tells you not to but you can’t fight him. One slight move and he can have you crumbling. But you’re not giving up that easily. You twist his arm quickly and kick his legs from underneath him. You use all your weight to pull him to the ground by his neck and the sound of his helmet thudding against the cold stone made you feel so powerful. You stand over him and try to catch your breath once again. 

Something sinister glazes over his eyes as he lies there looking up at you. That look started out as anger, but slowly fizzled into intrigue as he realizes you’re standing there between his legs. He slowly sits up and looks at you hungrily, lust dripping off of his face. His lips were slightly parted, and his breathing was shallow. You feel a lump in your throat as you watch him look at you like this. No one has ever looked at you like this. It made you terrified and at the same time so weakened by his charm. 

“You tricky devil, I didn’t see you doing that,” he says with a smirk. 

That look on his face was becoming too much. You had to back away from him and gather your thoughts. 

“Don’t underestimate me,” you seethe. 

He slowly rises to his feet and towers over you. You felt so small in this moment compared to a second ago when you put him on his back. 

“And don’t underestimate me,” he growls. “I said kneel for me.” He gets dangerously close to your face and makes your whole body shudder. Your heated gaze doesn’t falter as you can feel his anger and frustration come pouring out of him. You can’t breathe being this close to him and are doing a horrible job of how this man is affecting you. 

He wraps his hand around your neck once more to get you to comply but your body deceives you, letting a small moan escape your lips. He looks intoxicated when he hears that small little sound come from your mouth. Your eyes blow wide and you look at him horrified. 

“Oh… what a lovely sound you made for me. Seems you aren’t thinking about the mission anymore and want something else, hmm?” He whispers in your ear. 

“No, I don’t want you, you’re evil,” you squeak out. It was so unconvincing. You sounded weak and pathetic. 

“Mmm…” he hums low, deep in thought it seems, “Why don’t you say that to me on your knees?”

You scratch at his arm again and feel yourself wither at that notion. 

He lets go of your throat and sits back down on his throne. His legs were spread and he looks so fucking irresistible. 

“Kneel.” He commands once more. 

You tremble at his voice and feel heat rush to your core. You silently curse at yourself for succumbing to him but loved how he made you feel. The moment you laid eyes on him you loved that electric spark that ran through you when you saw him looking at you. You were weaker than you could have ever imagined and failed this mission horribly. 

Your knees slowly fell to the ground as he commanded eye contact the whole way down. You were sure he could hear your labored breaths and how you couldn’t obtain any control. Your eyes can’t help but drink him in, looking at every inch of him and seeing how he is perfection. He was made by the Gods, powerful and unyielding. 

He groans softly at the sight in front of him and bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Oh, so you can listen. Good, I thought I was going to have to make you,” he smirks. 

“No, I can listen when I want to. And you don’t make me do anything. You’re much more powerful than I am, and I don’t want to die today.” You try to brush off. 

“I’m sure that’s what it is. It wasn’t like when you first saw me you wanted to crumble to your knees for my mercy.”

You hold your breath and feel more heat rush to your core.  

That’s exactly what I wanted. 

“Come closer to me, then get back on your knees,” he instructs, using a come-hither motion with his finger. 

You stand up and take another step in between his legs, bending down again to kneel before him. You look at how his cock is getting hard in his leather pants and forming a clear imprint of it running down his thigh. You find yourself biting your lip and imagining what that must feel like, giving you the most intense pleasure. 

You shoot your eyes back up at him and he likes that you’re looking at him like this. 

“Seems you have made me weak too. I shouldn’t like this as much but something about seeing you on your knees for me…” he groans, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. 

“What… what was it?” You ask hesitantly, knowing he was going to make you come undone. 

He licks his bottom lip and slowly slithers his hand down his thigh to adjust his fully hardened cock, bigger and longer than before. You tremble at the sight and an airy moan comes from your lips. 

“I was thinking of all the ways I could ruin you right there on your knees and make you beg for more of it,” he says low, his hand slowly working his cock through his leather pants. 

You felt your wetness pool and this unbearable ache growing in your core. The man had you right where he wanted you. Weak and unglued. 

“Ruin me,” you whimper, barely able to be heard. A sly smile forms across his face and he stands up in front of you. He pulls his pants down enough where he can pull his cock out. You groan at the sight. Fuck he made you the most needy you’ve ever been and the way your body trembled when you looked at him was horrible. His hand held his cock at the base of it and slowly rubbed his hand along the long, veiny shaft. His head started to leak clear precum and all you wanted to do was taste him. 

You look up at him with needy eyes and wait for his direction. 

“Open your mouth, let me fuck you,” he commands. You feel your body get weaker and want to collapse on the floor but you pull yourself together, listening to him like you said you would. 

You open your mouth and he pushes his length inside your mouth. The taste of his salty precum made your eyes roll back. Just the way he felt inside your mouth is pleasurable. He let out a loud groan and let his head fall back. That sound he made sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted him to keep making that sound. You were sure you’d come apart with that sound alone. 

You take more of him in your mouth and suck and swirl your tongue around him. Your core throbs with need and crave his touch more than anything. 

“Good girl," he purrs, "just like that,” he groans. His deep, gravelly voice makes you moan and the way he praises you… It does something criminal to you. His hips begin to move in short motions, taking himself deeper inside of you. 

Your wetness continues to pool and you need to give yourself some friction or something to keep the throbbing subsided. You squeeze your thighs together and try to see if that helps any. It doesn’t do much and you still need more. You were sure he could feel how needy you are and how desperate you’re becoming. You take more of him in your mouth and it makes him cuss violently. 

“Fuck you know just what to do, don’t you?,” he grovels. You feel his hand tangle in your hair and pull slightly. He was able to control how you were taking him now and made the most vulgar sounds when he hit the back of your throat. You moan as a response and continue to suck his cock, wanting him to come undone so badly. 

Your hand carefully trails down to your pulsing bud and through your uniform, rubbing yourself and giving yourself some pleasure. You groan with him in your mouth and the feeling of your vibrating moan made him buck his length further into your mouth. You gag momentarily but try to keep going. Your fingers moved in the same pace you were taking his cock and it was driving you mad. It felt good, but not good enough. 

You suddenly feel his hand tighten in your hair, pulling it hard. You groan helplessly and he pulls himself out of your mouth. Your eyes shoot up at him innocently and you try to see why he stopped. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growls. 

Your heart pounds out of your chest by his tone and your body freezes. 

“N-nothing…” you say warily. 

“What are your fingers doing then, hmm?” He says, looking down at you. Your cheeks turn red, and you don’t know what to say. 

“I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry,” you whimper. 

“Oh, you couldn’t help it… I’m sure… you need to be fucked by me that badly?” He asks. 

You could melt into a puddle right now. Gods, the way he said that made you need him so terribly. You needed him to have his way with you and fulfill every last dark and dirty desire you had. You hadn’t felt pleasure in so long, he was bound to make you come undone in an instant. 

“Please… I want you,” you beg. 

He sits back in his throne with a smug look on his face. He pulls the rest of his pants down and tosses them off to the side of you. He pulls his tunic up to stay out of the way. You wanted to lick every inch of him. He was made to be worshipped. 

“Show me.” He demands. 

“What?” You tremble. 

“Show me how bad you want me to fuck you. Show me with your hands.”

You swallow harshly at what he was asking of you and have no hesitation showing him what he wants to see. 

“Can I stand up to take this off?” You ask him. 

“Yes, then back on your knees.”

You stand up slowly, keeping eye contact, and you peel your armor off piece by piece. Your fingers unzip your uniform and wiggle your arms out of it. Once you have it off, you toss it to the side where his pants are too. You’re left in your bra and underwear and he looks like he could feast on you. 

“Those off too,” he instructs. 

Those eyes make you feel on fire. He wouldn’t take his eyes off you and watched your every move. You unclip your bra and pull it off you. The cool air makes your nipples hard and your whole body shivers. You pull your underwear down next and can’t look at him when you do this. You’re naked in front of him. A God. And he was drooling at the very sight of you.

You sink back down to your knees and stare at the floor as your fingers find your aching bud. You rub it in slow circles and hold back the whimper you wanted to make. You were sopping wet and were spilling down your thigh. Your breath becomes ragged and you feel your pleasure increase. 

“No, look at me,” he demands. 

Your eyes shoot straight up at him and you bite your lip when you see what he’s doing. He has his cock in his hand, slowly working his head and moving it along his shaft. 

“Ohh,” you whimper as you watch him pleasure himself. 

Your fingers move faster and can clearly hear how much wetness has gathered there. The sound of your wet pussy drives him to the edge. He looks drunk on you and watches your wet fingers spread through your folds. He almost looked envious of your fingers and the way they were getting covered in your wetness. You kind of felt the same. You wanted to be the one touching him and making him curse at your touch. You wanted to feel how warm his cock would be in your hand as you jerked him. 

“Fuck honey come here, now,” he grits through his teeth. 

You stand up and get in between your legs. He grabs you by your hips and the way his hands feel on you makes you want to cry out his name. They were big and strong, you were completely at his mercy with them on your body. 

“I want you to sit down and take me nice and slow.”

All you can do is nod your head and proceed to straddle him on the throne. You place your hands on his shoulders and hover over his length. You look into his eyes and pause, waiting for him to tell you what he wants. Being this close to him nearly sucked the life out of you and his serious blue eyes stare into yours. His eyes get heavy with lust and his long eyelashes distract you. You feel his hands back on your hips as he sinks you down until you feel his tip push at your entrance. 

You gasp at the sensation and hold onto him tighter.  You slowly sink down, groaning at the feeling of you stretching around him and covering him with your wetness. He also groans softly, watching your face be overcome with pleasure. Each slow thrust you made only felt better. He felt so good and only made you want more of him. 

“You feel so damn good,” he whispers in your ear. He drags his teeth down your neck and sucks on the crook of it. It feels like electricity just ran through your whole body. It was the best feeling you’ve ever had. He then places a kiss on your cheek, and it feels like heaven. His lips are so soft and you know you need more of that.   

Your hips move without thinking and chase the high of your release. You took more of him and groan loudly. He was overwhelming, you’ve never been with a man like this and felt so intoxicated. The grip on your hips tightens as he moves you down on him harder and faster until he is deep inside you. 

You both groan loudly, crying for more from each other. 

“That’s it, honey, take all of it,” he grunts. He fills you to the brink and stills you. You cry out his name, overwhelmed by how deep he is. 

“Shit you’re killing me,” you pant, staring at him wide eyed. He bites his lip and nods his head at you. 

“You feel so good, honey, keep moving for me please,” he coos. His hand tangles in your hair again and pulls you in close, your chest touching his. He leans in to kiss you on the lips and you moan into his mouth. Your hips begin to move more, grinding at the base of his cock. 

His hand pushes at the small of your back and helps you rock into him. The heat in your belly roars and you can feel your release ready to come crashing down on you. You break the kiss because you need air and try to keep it together. Your walls began to flutter around him, knowing you can’t hold back much longer.

He pulls slowly on your hair, making you look up at the ceiling mercilessly. He doesn’t tell you to stop so you keep riding him, chasing your high. 

“Beg me to make you cum,” he grumbles. 

A whiny moan comes from your throat and you thrust onto him harder. You wanted him to make you finish more than anything. You would have never imagined that this man would make you come apart, let alone beg for it. You roll your hips against him and that makes him groan loudly. His hand pulls at your hair tighter making you gasp. 

“I said beg for it,” he growls. 

“Please, please I need you to make me cum. Please let me finish,” you cry, your voice echoing through the throne room. 

“Mmm, you sound so good like this. But you’ll have to do better than that to give you what you want. Beg. Beg for your king to make you cum.”

Your chest heaves and you feel your body tremble with need. You didn’t want to wait anymore and wanted him to give you the best pleasure you’ve ever felt. You didn’t care how wrong it was to beg him for such things and for calling him such a title. You needed him. 

“Please, Loki, I need you. I need you to make me cum. I beg you, my king. Fuck don’t make me wait anymore.” You whimper helplessly. 

He lets go of your hair and the look on his face just about makes you finish. He looked completely drunk on you, like he couldn’t believe what he heard. 

“Cum for me.”

Both of his hands go back on your hips and helps you fuck him in a slow rhythm. You shut your eyes tightly and feel your whole body tense. Before you knew it, your orgasm comes crashing down hard like waves on a shore. Your walls squeezed around him and pulsed with every movement. You came hard and fast, unable to get enough of him. 

He’s too busy trying to hold back his own release but won’t stop moving you on him. He groans and shuts his eyes too, his mouth dropping when he feels how tight and warm you are. 

If it wasn’t for his hands on you, you would’ve completely collapsed on him. Your body felt weak and yet so light and satisfied. You lock eyes with him once more and that’s all it took for him. You feel his length pulse inside you, releasing all of his warm cum into you. You groan when you feel him inside you like this. He moved slowly and with each thrust, you squirmed on his lap with how sensitive you’ve become. He lets his head lean back slightly and lets the last wave of his release wash over him. He looked beautiful like this. It wasn’t the same vengeful God that was about to end everyone in his sight.

Your hips come to a stop and you pant as he brushes your hair off your shoulders. His touch was so addictive. You could have him touch every inch of your body and you wouldn’t want him to stop. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he sighed. 

His voice makes your whole body tingle as you tighten your grip on his shoulders. 

“Damn it don’t say something like that,” you grovel. 

He smirks at you and slowly glides his hands up your body. He finds your hardened nipples and squeezes them. 

“Loki, please, don’t,” you whimper, knowing you’ll succumb to him in a flash if he keeps going. He pulls you in for another kiss, this time fiercely. His tongue claims your mouth and makes you groan at the feeling. His hands cup your breasts and squeezes them in his large hands. He lets out a small groan when he feels them like this. Your hips squirm, unable to handle all this teasing. You break the kiss and struggle for breath. 

“Loki no… I have to go. I-I-I can’t be here. I’ve been gone too long. They’re bound to send more people here since no one has reported back. People are going to come here and take you into custody.” You say panicked. 

He lifts you off of him and gently puts you on the floor between his spread legs. He gives you that sinister smile once more and nods his head.

“Fine, you win,” he says cheekily, “take me in,” he tells you, putting his wrists together and holding them out in front of you. 

“What?” you say shocked. 

“Either you take me in now or risk a dozen people rushing in to find you naked in the throne room. It’s your choice,” he says cockily. 

You grit your teeth at his cocky subterfuge, "fine, put your pants on now, you're leaving with me," you snap. You bend down to pick up your uniform and it vanishes into thin air. You snap your head to Loki with a look that could kill.

"Bring me back my clothes, NOW," you seethe. You try to cover yourself, unable to take this man's oogling eyes any longer. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?! What the hell are you doing!" you scream.

He goes to pick up his pants and slips them on with a smile on his face.

"Oh no... I think I lost them... guess you'll have to come with me instead," he says slyly.

You really thought you could outsmart the God of Mischief when he was always one step ahead of you.

"You’ll pay for this." You scowl.

“If it has something to do with you back on this throne with me, I’m more than okay with any type of punishment you have in mind.” He winks.

[kyleraynermybeloved]

You Two Are Together?!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Byers!Reader Summary: When you thought you've finally gotten away from the horrors that is the Upside Down, it comes back to drag you into the pain. Warnings: slight angst, canon level injuries Word Count: 4.5k A/N: I am once again back from a LONG and kind of needed break. DId I get a new job that is draining the life out of me? Yes, I did. Here's an Eddie fic as a peace offering :) Masterlist

If there was one constant in your life, it was Eddie Munson. You met at four years old and were inseparable ever since—Byers and Munson, a chaotic duo and certified menaces to society.

You stood by him when his mom passed and again when his dad went to prison, leading him to move in with Uncle Wayne. And he was there for you through every hardship Lonnie put you and your brothers through, your unwavering anchor.

When Eddie formed a band in middle school, you were their number one fan. By freshman year, one school dance was all it took for your friendship to evolve into something more. He insisted on keeping it quiet, afraid of backlash—but that never stopped you from being by his side.

High school wasn’t all bad, not with Eddie’s dungeons & dragons club taking over your afternoons. He’d introduced you to the game when you were younger. He was the reason you had begun playing it in the first place introducing it to your youngest brother Will, then later to his friend Dustin who you babysat everyday after school. 

Everything changed senior year when Will vanished. You spent every moment searching for him, Dustin never leaving your side as his mom had asked of you. By the time Will came back, your world—and your sense of safety—had shifted.

You graduated, half-hoping Eddie would be there beside you. He wasn’t—but you did convince him to re-enroll. That night, after the graduation party, he proposed in your living room with help from your family.

You chose community college and part-time work to save for the small, intimate wedding you’d both dreamed of. Just your family, Uncle Wayne, and a quiet winter ceremony—despite your mom wishing for a summer one. You wanted it done before leaving for university in the spring. Short, sweet, and perfect.

Exactly what your family needed after what had happened that past fall, especially your mother who had just lost Bob who you’d grown to care for dearly. Shortly after, you moved in with Eddie and Wayne before packing and traveling far to university.

Every spare moment was spent writing letters or calling Eddie. When summer break came around, you returned home, and the two of you finally had your long-overdue honeymoon: a spontaneous road trip filled with laughter, bad motel coffee, and matching tattoos to mark the moment.

After you got back, your family shared news that they’d decided to move to California. Before returning to campus for fall term, you made sure to tell Eddie and Wayne— ‘if you ever need anything, call me.’

But that promise unraveled during finals week of your last semester of school. Exhausted after your last exam, you barely hit your dorm bed before the phone rang. It was Dustin. His voice was tight—something had happened with Max. You needed to come home. Now.

You threw everything into your car and hit the road, barely stopping to breathe. Three days and too many gas station coffees later, you finally pulled up to the cabin. Your heart stopped at the sight of your mom standing on the porch—beside her was Hopper.

You froze, disbelief washing over you as tears welled in your eyes. “Hopper?” you called out, voice cracking. “But—how are you here?”

He turned toward you slowly, leaning slightly into your mom for balance. “Kid?” he said, as if making sure it was really you.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You ran to him, crashing into his arms and holding on like he might disappear again. He wrapped you in a steady embrace, one large hand cradling the back of your head as quiet sobs escaped your chest.

“I’m back,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay now. You’re okay.”

He rubbed slow, soothing circles across your back while you let yourself breathe again—for the first time in what felt like forever.

You only pulled away when you heard your name being called.

“Hey,” came a quieter voice.

It was Max, standing in the doorway on crutches, a cast on her leg and bruises painting her arms. She looked exhausted—pale, eyes rimmed with fatigue—but she still managed the ghost of a smile. Lucas was standing by her side, a look of relief washing over his face.

You hurried toward her, briefly pulled into a few hugs from your family along the way. When you finally reached her, you wrapped your arms around her gently.

“Max,” you whispered. “What happened? Dustin called me out of nowhere and said you were in trouble—what the hell happened?”

She leaned into you, her usual sarcasm returning just enough to make you smile.

“Long story short?” she muttered. “Never leave me alone with these doofuses again.”

You laughed softly at Max’s comment, the sound wet with relief. “Noted. No more leaving you with the gremlins.”

She leaned her head on your shoulder for a beat longer before pulling away, nodding toward the cabin. “C’mon. Everyone else is inside. Dustin has been waiting on you for ages.”

Lucas nodded at you with a soft, “Hey, stranger,” before offering a careful hug, mindful of your emotions and probably still carrying his own.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, patting his back. “You alright?”

“As much as I can be,” he said with a tired smile.

Inside, the cabin was buzzing with different conversations, they all were catching up with your family who had arrived prior to you. The moment you stepped through the doorway, every head turned.

El’s face lit up with a warm smile as she crossed the room and tucked herself into your arms. She’d grown—not just taller, but stronger, calmer. You could feel it in the way she held you.

“I missed you,” she said quietly.

“I missed you too, El.”

Then there was Mike, hovering awkwardly nearby until you yanked him into a hug.

“You don’t get to act too cool for hugs. Not today.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

Then Steve and Robin pulled you into a tight hug together, voices muffled into your shoulders. You couldn’t make out what exactly they were saying but you could make out, “Please never leave us again.”

And finally, Dustin practically tackled you, arms tight and excited around your shoulders. “I knew you’d come! I told them!”

You laughed. “Dustin, I was in the middle of my last final—do you ever not call during chaos?”

“This is chaos,” he said, half-joking. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I said I’d always show up when it matters, didn’t I?” You smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek as the weight of the moment settled over you. All of them—older, a little bruised, but safe. Still together.

You glanced around at the familiar faces, the familiar walls. Everything was the same and completely different all at once.

The rest of your family had shuffled back into the cabin with the rest of you.

“How bad was it?” you asked finally, voice low.

The mood shifted.

The kids exchanged glances, and Max exhaled slowly beside you. “It was... bad. Vecna bad.”

“It’s... complicated,” she said, her voice quieter now. “A lot happened while you were gone.”

“Like what?” you asked gently. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Max hesitated, then muttered, “There’s this… thing. A guy. Kind of. I don’t know how to explain it, but… he’s powerful. Dangerous. Worse than anything we've dealt with before.”

Your stomach twisted. “Wait—worse than the Mind Flayer?”

They nodded. Even El looked away for a second.

“What’s his name?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Max’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Vecna.”

You blinked. “Vecna? Like… from D&D?”

“Yeah,” Dustin muttered. “Except he’s very real. And he nearly—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening.

You looked at Max again—really looked. The cast, the bruises, the deep exhaustion in her eyes. “He hurt you?”

“I’m still here,” she said with a small shrug. “That’s what matters.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just reached for her hand, holding it gently. “Okay,” you said, even though nothing felt okay. “Okay.”

You exhaled and scanned the room again. That’s when it hit you—Dustin looked... wrecked. More than just tired. He was pale and twitchy, like he was carrying something he hadn’t said out loud.

“Alright,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Does someone want to explain why Dustin looks like he just walked through fire? You all look rough, but he looks like he’s been emotionally steamrolled.”

Everyone hesitated.

Dustin’s eyes dropped to the floor. His shoulders curled in slightly, like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Finally, Robin sighed. “Dustin has this friend from the school’s club he’s in. His name is Eddie.”

Your breath caught. The mention of his name hit like a brick to the chest. You tensed, every worst-case scenario racing through your mind.

Max looked down, her voice strained. “Eddie… he got hurt. Really bad. During everything that happened with Vecna. He… stayed behind to buy us time. Fought off this swarm of—” She hesitated, as if even saying it sounded ridiculous. “—demobats.”

“Demobats?” you echoed, the word foreign and terrifying.

“They were like... winged creatures,” Steve added quietly. “From the Upside Down. Completely new. Vicious. We’d never seen anything like them.”

Dustin spoke again, his voice hoarse. “He said he wasn’t going to run this time. Stayed behind and fought them off. He… he almost didn’t make it.”

You went still.

From somewhere behind you, you heard your mother let out a quiet gasp. But you couldn’t turn. Couldn’t speak. Your heart was pounding too loudly.

“Wait,” you said slowly, carefully. “Nearly?”

Dustin nodded. “He made it. Barely. He’s recovering, but it’s been slow. Physically, and... mentally.”

Your pulse was deafening in your ears. “Where is he?”

Dustin gave a small nod. “Yeah. He made it. Barely. He’s alive, but he’s still healing. It’s… it’s been rough. He hasn’t really wanted to see anyone.”

You swallowed hard. “Where is he?”

“In the back,” Dustin said, his brow furrowed. “He’s resting in the guest room.”

You didn’t wait. Your legs were already moving, hands trembling at your sides as you crossed the room. The moment you reached the bedroom door, you pushed it open without hesitation.

There he was.

Eddie lay in the bed, bandaged and bruised, his skin pale beneath the low light. He was awake, barely, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Pain was etched deep into his features—but he was alive.

“Eddie,” you whispered, stepping forward. And then you were at his side, falling to your knees and pulling him into a kiss before you could stop yourself.

He flinched in surprise, but the moment his brain caught up, his hand weakly found your cheek, holding you there like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Wait—wait, wait!” came a voice from the hallway behind you.

Dustin’s head poked through the doorway, wide-eyed. “You two are—? Like, together-together? As in dating?!”

You broke the kiss and leaned back, still close to Eddie, your hand resting gently against his chest.

Without a word, you lifted your left hand, the gold band on your finger catching the light.

Eddie gave a tired, crooked grin. “Married, actually.”

The silence that followed could’ve rivaled a funeral.

“Married?!” Robin practically shrieked. “Like… actual wedding rings and vows and legal paperwork married?!”

“Wait—wait,” Steve said, eyes wide, pointing between you and Eddie like he was trying to solve a math problem in real time. “You’ve been married this whole time? And you just… never told us?”

Eddie gave a weak little shrug, his hand still holding yours like a lifeline. “Didn’t exactly come up between fighting demonic hell-creatures and avoiding small-town pitchfork mobs.”

Robin turned sharply to your family. “You knew about this?!”

Jonathan smirked. “I was the best man.”

“Mom cried through the whole thing,” Will added with a small smile. “It was really sweet.”

“I made the cake,” Joyce said from the hall with her arms crossed, clearly trying and failing to contain her amusement.

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Everybody knew?!”

“Not everybody,” Eddie mumbled, still dazed but grinning now. “Just the people who wouldn’t accidentally blurt it out during class or in the middle of Hellfire.”

Steve laughed, “And this whole time I was wondering when you were going to man up and ask her out on a date. The two of you always were too close in school.”

You couldn’t help laughing—quiet, a little tearful, but real. Relief had finally started to settle in, replacing the shock and fear with something lighter.

Robin flopped dramatically onto the couch just outside the bedroom door. “I can’t believe I wasn’t invited to your wedding.”

“You would’ve tried to DJ with a walkman and a car battery,” Eddie murmured from the bed.

“And it would’ve been iconic!” Robin shouted.

Steve folded his arms. “Okay, but seriously, no bachelor party? No reception? No groomsmen suits?”

“There was a reception,” Joyce said with a soft smile. “Small, in our backyard. Just family and Wayne. They didn’t want a big thing.”

“And I was leaving for university,” you added, brushing your thumb across Eddie’s knuckles. “Didn’t have time or money for anything flashy. We were planning a second celebration when things calmed down.”

Max, who had been quiet all this time, finally stepped forward on her crutches. “You two really went and got married while the rest of us were still figuring out how to pass classes.”

You smiled up at her. “When you know, you know.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too.

There was a moment of warm, stunned quiet before Steve clapped his hands once. “Well, now that I’ve emotionally processed that Eddie freakin’ Munson is married to someone with a functioning moral compass, I’m making myself useful. Anyone else need coffee?”

“Second pot, Harrington,” Hopper called. “And make it strong.”

As Steve retreated to the kitchen and the room started buzzing again, you looked back down at Eddie. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion but full of something softer. Something like peace.

“You came,” he whispered, almost to himself.

“Of course I did,” you said gently, brushing his curls back from his face. “I always will.”

The rest of the group traveled to the living room to give the two of you space to catch up. The sound of murmured conversation drifted from the living room, a soft reminder that—for the moment—things were okay. Hopper’s deep voice rumbled low, your mom chiming in every so often. The kids were all piled onto couches and cushions, catching up on everything that had been lost in the months apart.

But here, in the dimly lit bedroom, it was just you and Eddie.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your hand still gently wrapped around his, fingers tracing the calluses from his guitar playing and the faint tremble that came with pain and too many sleepless nights. His chest rose and fell slowly, the edge of the bandages visible beneath his worn t-shirt, his long curls spread out across the pillow like a halo. 

Your heart warmed looking at him, seeing him alive.

“I thought for a moment I lost you,” you whispered, eyes locked on his face.

Eddie blinked up at you, his gaze soft and unguarded. “Yeah… me too.”

There was a long pause. Not heavy, just full.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. His voice was quiet, rough around the edges– not just from the injury, but from something deeper. “I tried calling. I’m sure Wayne has as well. Probably bombarded your dorm phone with calls.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not to me. I should be the one apologizing for not picking up. If I hadn’t been busy with exams I could’ve made it home sooner.”

“I didn’t think I was gonna make it out,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really thought... that was it. That I’d never see you again. Never tell you how much I—” His throat caught.

“I know, Ed.” You leaned in, resting your forehead gently against his. “I know.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you just breathed together. The world outside faded to a distant hum. His hand curled tighter around yours.

“I didn’t feel the pain at first,” he murmured. “I just remember thinking, ‘You’re gonna be so mad at me.’”

You laughed softly, tears stinging your eyes. “I am mad at you. You idiot.”

A ghost of a grin pulled at his lips. “I figured.”

You kissed his forehead, letting your lips linger against his skin. “But mostly I’m just… glad you’re here.”

He reached up with shaky fingers, brushing the back of his hand along your cheek. “I keep thinking this is a dream. That I’ll wake up and I’m still in the Upside Down, bleeding out on that stupid mattress in that haunted trailer.”

“You’re not,” you whispered. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m not okay. Not really. Not yet.”

“I know,” you said. “You don’t have to be. I’ll be here. Every step.”

His eyes found yours, wide and vulnerable. “Promise?”

You brought his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “Promise. You’ve always been there for me while I’ve recovered from my fair share, albeit unknowingly. Sorry by the way… for not telling you sooner about this. About what we’ve been through.”

“I always figured you’d let me know when you were ready. I’ve never been one to rush you.” Eddie’s eyes began to flutter closed, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion now that you were there.

You shifted, carefully lying down beside him, curling against his side with your arm draped gently across his chest. He breathed a little easier then. Like your presence grounded him.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, already halfway asleep.

“I missed you more,” you whispered.

His lashes rested against his bruised cheeks, his fingers still tangled with yours like he didn’t trust the world not to steal you away.

But sleep hadn’t fully claimed him yet. You could feel the tension still lingering just beneath the surface of his tired body.

After a moment of quiet, you spoke, your voice soft against the hush of the room.

“Did you call Wayne?”

Eddie didn’t respond right away. His thumb traced over your knuckles once… then again.

You leaned your forehead against his temple. “He’s probably worried sick. I know you wouldn’t want him to see you like this, but… he deserves to know you're okay. That you’re here. I know I would if I were in his shoes.”

A long breath pushed from Eddie’s chest.

“I tried,” he murmured. “Couple times. Picked up the phone and everything. But… I didn’t know what to say. ‘Hey, Uncle Wayne, it’s me—your nephew who the whole town thinks is dead, covered in bite marks and guilt, just checking in’?”

Your heart ached at the self-deprecating edge in his voice. You pulled him closer, fingers brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck. Being mindful of his injuries.

“Say, ‘I love you. I’m alive. I made it out.’” You paused, swallowing back the lump forming in your throat. “That’s all he wants to hear, Ed.”

He was quiet again. The kind of quiet that meant he heard you, even if he couldn’t answer right away.

Then, just above a whisper: “Will you call him with me? Tomorrow?”

You nodded, your voice catching just a little. “Yeah. Of course I will.”

Eddie’s hand tightened around yours again, like that promise alone let him loosen a little more, let the weight start to lift—even just a little.

You didn’t say anything else. Didn’t need to. Just laid there with him as the house outside buzzed with life, giving him the quiet peace he hadn’t had in months.

Sleep finally found him not long after.

And you stayed with him, just like you promised. Finally at peace with Eddie in your arms as sleep took over.

Morning came slow and warm, the golden light of the rising sun slipping through the thin curtains and casting soft patterns across the bedroom walls.

You stirred first, eyes blinking open to the sound of muffled voices and clattering dishes from the kitchen. Someone was arguing over how to cook eggs—Robin, by the sound of it—and there was laughter in between. The smell of something slightly burnt and definitely not edible wafted into the room.

Hopper and your mom must have gotten groceries earlier, since last you knew this cabin had been vacant.

You smiled sleepily, turning your head to find Eddie still asleep beside you. His features relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time. One of his arms had somehow ended up draped over your waist, like even in sleep he needed to know you were there.

But the moment you shifted, his eyes fluttered open. Groggy, but alert.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered, brushing his curls off his forehead. “Sleep okay?”

He gave you a soft, lazy grin. “Best sleep I’ve had since… everything. I didn’t even dream. Just… you.”

Your heart clenched in the best kind of way. You leaned down to kiss his temple.

In the distance, someone dropped a pan with a loud crash. Steve’s voice called out, “Who put a metal spoon in the microwave?!”

Eddie blinked. “Are we… under attack?”

You snorted. “Nope. Just breakfast, Byers-Hopper style.”

He groaned, burying his face into your shoulder. “Tell me this is a dream. Tell me I’m not gonna have to eat something Robin tried to cook.”

“She’s trying,” you whispered, laughing.

“She shouldn’t.” His voice was muffled against your collarbone, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

The bedroom door creaked open a second later, and Will peeked in. “You guys awake?”

You nodded, smiling. “Barely.”

Will grinned. “Come out when you’re ready. Robin says she’s made pancakes but they’re kind of… abstract.”

“Where’s mom and Hopper?” you changed the subject briefly.

“Oh, they’re out grabbing edible food for us since Robin and the others kind of… wasted everything they bought for breakfast. Mom said they’d be back in thirty.”

Eddie grumbled into your shoulder, you let out a deep laugh.

Will smiled at the two of you, “I’ll leave you two to get ready.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Eddie looked up at you. “You think it’s too soon to sneak out the window?”

“I think you’re too bandaged to sneak anywhere,” you teased. “But nice try.”

He smiled, then went quiet for a second, fingers brushing your hand again. “Still want to call Wayne today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. After breakfast. When you’re ready.”

Eddie sighed, but it wasn’t heavy this time. “Okay. As long as you’re there, I can handle it.”

Together, you sat up slowly. 

Eddie winced, his hand immediately going to his side as the movement tugged at one of the deeper wounds beneath his shirt, underneath his bandages. You caught him gently by the arm, steadying him before he could push himself too far.

“Easy,” you murmured a warning, already slipping off the bed to grab the small kit of supplies left on the dresser from Hopper last night. “Let’s check these bandages. You’re not getting an infection on my watch, not if I can help it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. “Didn’t realize I married a nurse.”

You shot him a mock glare as you returned with the kit. “You didn’t. But you did marry someone who knows how to babysit injury-prone teenage boys and clean up after D&D nights that somehow always end in bloodshed.”

“Fair,” he muttered, easing his shirt up with your help. “I think I preferred the bloodshed that came from too much Mountain Dew and a dice tower collapse.”

You gave him a wry smile but said nothing as you peeled back the gauze from the worst of the wounds on his side. You did your best to keep your expression neutral, but your heart squeezed at the angry red lines of stitches, still raw and healing. The bite marks left behind by those “demobats” were deeper than you expected.

Eddie watched your face carefully. “It looks worse than it feels,” he offered quietly.

“You always say that,” you replied, voice low. “Even when you’re full of stitches and trying to walk it off.”

He gave a small chuckle, but the sound hitched when he finally stood up.

“Eds… I think we’re going to have to wash these before we clean with the solution here. It’d be best considering the surrounding areas not cut up are still grimy.”

His face paled at the idea.

“Wash?” he echoed, blinking like you’d just asked him to walk barefoot right into an active volcano.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, placing a hand gently on his uninjured shoulder. “I’ll be careful, promise. But you’ve got dried blood and dirt caked onto you.”

Eddie groaned quietly, swaying slightly on his feet before you steadied him again. “This is payback for the time I made you sit through that three-hour Megadeth deep-dive documentary, isn’t it?”

You laughed, reaching for a clean towel, bowl and the warm water Hopper had left in the thermos on the dresser. “No. That was its own punishment.”

He snorted, then winced as you dabbed a wet washcloth across his skin, loosening up the grime bit by bit with the warm water. The room was quiet, save for the sound of water dripping back into the bowl and the occasional hiss of discomfort from Eddie.

“You now,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut, “this is weirdly comforting.”

You glanced up at him. “What is?”

“This,” he gestured at himself. “You. Taking care of me. Even when I look like Frankenstein’s roadkill.”

You smirked. “You’ve always looked a little like Frankenstein’s roadkill. It’s part of your charm.”

Eddie chuckled, a warm sound despite the tension in his shoulders. “You know, if anyone else said that, I’d be offended.”

“But since it’s me—?”

“It’s endearing,” he finished, cracking one eye open and giving you a crooked grin.

You smiled softly, brushing damp curls away from his forehead. “There. All cleaned up. Now for the hard part… the cleaning solution.”

He inhaled sharply as you grabbed fresh clean gauze and poured the solution on them before gently dabbing his wounds. His whimpers made your heart ache.

You grabbed the ointment once you were done, gingerly applying it to the cleaned wounds. “Let’s rewrap these and then you can sit down and pretend pancakes weren’t nearly a war crime this morning.”

He let out a shaky breath, grateful and tired all at once. “I don’t deserve you.”

You pressed a kiss to his temple. “Too late. You’ve got me. Forever.”

Eddie closed his eyes again, not in pain this time—but peace.

By the time you finished redressing his wounds and helping him into a clean shirt, the clatter of paper bags and the familiar scent of bacon and toast filtered in from the kitchen.

“That better be diner-grade coffee,” Eddie muttered, wincing slightly as he took a step toward the door with your help.

“It is,” you said. “And we survived another morning.”

“Barely,” he joked, slinging his arm gently around your shoulders.

Together, you stepped out of the room, ready to face the chaos, the healing, and the long-overdue phone call waiting just ahead.

[hockeyboistrash]

another part of the cat mom au. this time stanley cup playoffs edition. the kittens support joe in the playoffs.

The moment the Leafs made the playoffs you knew you had to get the kittens something. You were just scrolling on the internet one night while you were waiting for Joe to come home and before you knew it your basket was full and a parcel was on it's way.

When they went to Florida for game 3 you took the opportunity to surprise Joe. You grabbed Winston first, and after a lot of convincing with treats, you put on the mini Leafs jersey you got with number 60 proudly on the back. Louis was much easier to convince. He just sat there while you put on the bandana you got for him.

You took a photo of them both wearing their leafs gear and one of yourself in your own Woll jersey before sending it to your boyfriend along with a text.

Good luck my love ❤️ you got some fans at home supporting you

Joe bit his lip, trying to hide the smile from his teammates. Normally, before Joe goes on the ice for practice he doesn't go on his phone. However he was glad he did this time. The photos had him grinning like an idiot. God he loves seeing you in his jersey and seeing the kittens in Leafs gear? That made it ten times better. He knew that no matter what happens he still has his favourite people cheering him on at home. With a pep in his step, Joe went onto the ice ready to take on Florida.

-x-

The outcome of the game wasn't what they wanted. An overtime loss after winning the first two games in the series. Joe was ready to go back to the hotel and forget about that awful game, taking the loss harder than anyone in the room. He knew he shouldn't though, your soft assurances on a loop in his head. You were always his biggest supporter through everything. He could let in 10 goals and you would still tell him how well he played and that you were proud of him. It's one of the many reasons why he loves you.

As soon as he got back to his hotel room he opened your chat. The last thing you sent was a video of the kittens getting up and going over to the tv as soon as Joe's face was on the screen. They were chirping happily at the tv, pawing at it gently, showing you they recognised your boyfriend and were happy to see him. With it was a text.

They saw their favourite person on the screen 🥹

It was the cutest thing Joe had ever seen. He wished he was back home in Toronto and not in this God forsaken state. He wished he was curled up in bed with you, his head on your chest as you gently ran your fingers through his hair, telling him about your day. The kittens joining you both in bed, Louis at the end while Winston took up half the space on the bed spread out like a starfish.

Joe missed you. He didn't even know if you'd be awake still but he still rang secretly hoping you were so he could hear your voice. It might be selfish of him but at this moment in time be didn't care.

You answered after the first ring, your face lit up by your phone screen. Joe immediately smiled when he saw your face. "I'm sorry about the game." You told him. "You played really well." Joe brushed it off though, not wanting to talk about the game.

"Tell me about your day. How are Winston and Louis?" Joe asked. It's like they knew you were on facetime with Joe because as soon as you answered they perked up, coming over to investigate your phone.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?" You giggled, Louis stepping over you so he was in frame, chirping at the phone.

"Hey guys." Joe greeted excitedly. "You looked very handsome tonight." He told them.

You loved this side of Joe. Carefree and happy. You could tell he was hurting by the loss but seeing the kittens brightened his night. You got to see one of your favourite things. His smile. So you told him about your day and the kittens antics. How when you were refilling the cat biscuits Winston got into the empty packet and got dust all over him which ended up with you chasing him around your apartment with a towel.

Joe let out a laugh. The first real one tonight. He loved hearing about what new mischievous things the kittens have been up to. "Thank you for this." Joe thanked you. "I really needed it. Especially tonight."

"I told you this before and I will keep telling you. No matter the result we'll be here cheering you on." You told him. "I love you so much. We all do."

"I love you too." He returned softly. "It's getting late. You should probably get to sleep."

You mumbled out an 'okay' as a yawn escaped. Neither of you made the move to end the call, instead falling asleep with facetime still on.

[wordsofwhimsy]

⏱︎ 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 ⏱︎

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x fem best friend!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Friends to lovers, Mark’s spittin mad game, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,822 

Synopsis: Mark comforts you after being stood up on a date.

a/n: i have it listed as a fem reader but i really did try to keep this more gender neutral!! i also have an idea for a 2nd part to this but idk i might just make that it’s own separate thing. we shall see

You used to joke that Mark Grayson was like gravity. Always nearby, always familiar. Something you didn’t have to think about.

He was your best friend.

The kind of best friend who sat on the floor of your bedroom, eating Hot Cheetos and watching you panic over homework. The kind who’d text you stupid memes at 3 a.m. just to make you laugh. The kind who, every now and then, looked at you like he wanted something more.

And before everything changed, maybe you would’ve let him have it.

Maybe you wanted to.

It was starting, back then. The soft kind of beginning. Lingering hands, long glances. You don’t remember who initiated the shift—but it was there. One of those stupid liminal phases, stuck between friendship and something else.

And then he got his powers, and the shift stopped all together.

He stopped being just Mark.

One day he was your dumbass best friend. The next, he was Invincible.

Suddenly he was gone half the time. Bleeding from places you couldn’t see. Showing up at your door with bruises he didn’t explain. Disappearing in the middle of conversations. Swallowing emotions like if he just didn’t talk about them, they weren’t actually real.

And still, he showed up.

Every single day.

He found you in parking lots. At work. On your stoop with takeout. Orbiting you like the earth was just a little too far and you were the only thing steady enough to keep him tethered.

He never said it. Not directly. But you could see it in his eyes—every time he showed up late with a smile, like he’d been lost but now finally found his way home.

But you wouldn’t let it breathe. Stepped on it before it could bloom. Told him he was sweet. That you loved him—just not like that.

Said things like, “We don’t make sense. You’re out saving the world. I’m… folding laundry and deciding if I’m ready to learn how to use a propane grill. I’m just not the kind of person that fits into a life like yours—not in that role.”

He’d just stand there. Quiet. Hurt. Letting you talk.

Letting you lie.

Because he knew the truth. He always had. You were the only person who could fill that role, and it would always stay an open position until the day you decided you were ready.

—

You hadn’t been on a date since... well, ever. Not really.

There was just Mark, and that almost-what-if stage that promptly collapsed under the weight of reality.

So when you finally downloaded the app, picked a stranger, and said yes to dinner, you told yourself it was progress.

You even styled your hair in a way that was new. Just for this moment.

You sat at the restaurant in an outfit that you swore felt like too much but talked yourself into anyways. Checked your phone a hundred times. Ordered a drink. Then another. Then realized slowly that you definitely had been stood up. This guy wasn’t coming.

No call. No message. Hell, you would’ve taken a messenger pigeon at that point. Some type of acknowledgement would’ve made it all feel just a little bit less… embarrassing.

You paid for your drinks and walked home in silence, feeling stupidly overdressed and like every person you passed knew about the wordless rejection you’d just faced.

Mark was already waiting on your stoop.

He didn’t ask where you’d been. Just handed you a bag of takeout and scooted over to make room.

You didn’t speak for a while. Just sat with your knees touching, paper bag warm between you, the hum of the streetlight buzzing faintly overhead.

 “Am I that bad?” you said abruptly without thinking.

Mark paused mid-chew, a fry half in his mouth. “Huh?” he mumbled, clearly confused.

You shook your head, eyes on the sidewalk. “Nothing. Just... I don’t know why I even tried.”

Mark swallowed. “Tried what?”

You gave a soft, bitter laugh. “The date.” His face changed instantly.

“Wait—you were on a date tonight?”

You scoffed, ripping the fry in your fingers in half. “If you could call it that. The guy didn’t even show up.”

You took the tiniest bite off one of the torn pieces, more so for the act of busying yourself than actually wanting to eat. “Guess I needed the reminder though. Like, of course he didn’t. Why would he?”

“Whoa, hey—” Mark leaned in, brows furrowed. “That’s not on you. That guy’s an idiot.”

You shrugged, but it was too stiff. “Or maybe he just looked at my picture a little too long and was like, y’know what, on second thought—”  

“C’mon, don’t do that,” he said, voice low, sincere. “That’s not fair.”

You laughed, like it was really starting to become funny (even though it wasn’t at all). “No no, seriously. The guy was probably showing his buddies my profile and they were all oof, you bagged a DOG—”

“Alright—unless the rest of that sentence is ‘a doggone beautiful creature’ I don’t wanna hear it.”

You choked back a laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. “God you’re so corny.”

Mark gave you a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes before his lips fell back into a harder line. “I’m serious. You’re not a dog. You’re not—whatever it is you’re trying to say right now.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to reach back into the bag for more fries—for another physical means of distraction. But his grasp closed around the greasy brown paper, around your wrist, locking you finger-deep in the takeout.

“I fight bad guys for a living, [y/n]. It’s literally my job to like, curb stomp your inner demons.”

You couldn’t help the pfft that sputtered past your lips. “You might need to clock in for overtime ‘cause they’re kicking my ass tonight.”

Mark grinned, just a little too much mischief sparking behind his eyes. “I’m always in overtime. Job never ends.” He finally pulled your hand free of the bag. “Now let a man work.”

You were fighting back a smile of your own as he turned your wrist in his hand, eyes tracing every line like he was inspecting rare art. “These hands?” he said, tone suddenly reverent. “Adorable. Perfect. Nails always going crazy.”

You snorted an embarrassing sound, but he’d heard it a hundred times before. “They’re literally just French tips...”

He grinned wider, ignoring you completely as he kept going. His fingers found a lock of your [hair color] tresses, twirling it around his knuckle. “This hair? Should be in a Pantene commercial. Smells like a teenage boy’s dream.”

You laughed again, softer this time, trying to pull away—but he held on, gently. Then he leaned back just slightly, eyes raking over you with a grin that slowly began to fade as his gaze caught on everything else.

“I mean, you’re dropping jaws just walking around in jeans,” he murmured. “But this?” He gestured vaguely to your still-sorta-date-night look. “The man should be thanking God he didn’t show. ‘Cause I promise you would’ve ended his whole life.”

Your face went warm, lips furling inward in your nervous habit. You tried to play it off, bury your smile in another shake of your head, but it was already happening. The racing of your heart. The stuttering of your breaths.

And then his hand came up, brushing your cheek so soft and careful. “These lips…?” he whispered.

You were still as stone, eyes wide as you watched him. “What about them…?”

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, so gentle it made your chest ache. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, then back down again, like he couldn’t keep his stare away for longer than a moment. “If God ever needed to talk, I’m pretty sure your lips would be the vessel.”

You didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t.

The words had dried up somewhere between your lungs and your throat, stuck there trembling while your lips—those stupid, supposedly divine lips—parted just slightly under the pad of his thumb.

And then he was leaning in, chocolate eyes never leaving your mouth as if he was following them to his destiny. Maybe in another lifetime you would’ve stopped him. Told him again that this didn’t make sense, that you two could never work. Maybe in another dimension. Another version of reality. But there, in that moment, it was inevitable.

It was barely a touch at first. His lips ghosting over yours like he knew what you were thinking, knew that you were probably begging internally for him not to take it here. But you didn’t push him away, didn’t pull back, and he felt like he’d been gifted a second chance at life.

The kiss lasted only a second before he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as eyes fluttered shut, stomachs tied tight in knots. “Tell me you felt that too,” he breathed, thumb stroking mindlessly over your jaw. You still couldn’t find your voice to answer, and instead tilted your head just enough to press another kiss to his lips. Then another. And by the third, it all began to unravel.

His hand slid to cup the back of your neck, locking you in as his free hand trembled against your hip. The manicured nails he just was praising now scratched lightly up his back, sending chills over his skin until one palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades and the other tangled in his hair.

Your mouth opened without thinking, and his tongue slipped in – no hesitation. You couldn’t believe you were tasting him like this. Couldn’t believe he was holding you like a lover, and not a friend. Couldn’t believe how utterly right it all felt.

What had you been denying yourself this whole time? How many other things in your life had you been so stupid over? Your thoughts could only spiral for so long before he broke away again, breathing hard – and not from lack of oxygen (the man could hold his breath for hours) – but from the sheer heat of it all.

“We should go inside,” he exhaled, his eyes glancing to a woman walking her dog past your front steps. Your pink cheeks burned cherry red, and all you could do was nod.

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone, my dear.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

Pairings: Toxic! Cheater! Manipulative! Se-mi x Fem! Reader

Summary: Se-mi realizes she messed up with her girlfriend far too late.

Warnings: Angst, cheating, sexting, nudes, manipulation, toxic relationship, reader goes back after Se-mi cheats, smut, fingering, etc.

Author Note: I kinda hate this and I might delete it…but oh well! The ending was kinda like wtf why would u end it like that but I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO😔 Sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or anything like that!

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

She cheated.

She cheated again.

You cried in your bed, sobbing into your silk pillow as you scroll through the screenshots your friend sent you of the messages between your girlfriend Se-mi and this so called Hana.

She has done this god knows how many times, this was the third time you caught her.

You hadn’t said anything to her yet, you were afraid. Almost as if she knew what you were doing, your phone buzzes.

My love💞💞 is calling

You sigh, pressing decline as you shake your head, you sit up and wipe your tears, trying to watch the show playing on your TV but the tears keep falling.

You phone buzzes a few times until you finally pick it up.

My love💞💞 babyyyy

My love💞💞 y aren’t u picking up the phone??

My love💞💞 hello?????

My love💞💞 wyd???

My love💞💞 baby?

My love💞💞 are you with another girl rn????

That sets you off. How fucking ironic.

You idk ask Hana in ur phone.

My love💞💞 what?

My love💞💞 baby answer my call

You no fuck you

You don’t call me again

You we’re done

My love💞💞 baby wtf????

My love💞💞 idk any Hana

My love💞💞 stop lying

My love💞💞 hello???

You so wtf is this then?

My love💞💞 she came onto me

You clearly not

My love💞💞 baby, cmon?

My love💞💞 it was just one time

My love💞💞 i regret it

You don’t text this number again

You we’re done, i’m serious.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

You always fell for her games.

But this time was different.

Se-mi. I miss u bby

Se-mi. ik u miss me too

Se-mi. cmon

You I told u not to text my number, Se-mi.

Se-mi. honey, cmon?

Se-mi. miss u sm

Se-mi. I promise i won’t do it again

You u always say that

Se-mi. babyyy

Se-mi. I mean it this time🙁

You idk

Se-mi. plsss

Se-mi. come over????

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

You knew it was wrong.

Especially this time.

You didn’t even want this.

But there you were, having gone a few rounds with her, your fingers thrusting hard into her, “Fuck!” She groans, tossing her head back.

“You like it?” You hum, she nods, eyes droopy.

She leans in to kiss you, you turn your head away and look down at your hand as your wrist moves back and forth.

She grabs your face, “Kiss me.” She mutters, pulling you in.

Once your lips touch, you flinch back quickly, “I can’t.” You shake your head.

“Why not? Shit! Fuck, slow down.” She groans, gripping your arm as your pace sped up and you curl your fingers, trying to avoid talking to her.

She moans loudly, “I’m gonna cum!” She squeezes your arm as she came around your fingers.

You pull back after she finishes and sit back beside her, knees curled to your chest.

You felt like shit. You didn’t even really want all of this. You just wanted to spend time with her. One last time.

“Babe?”

You look down, pulling the grey blanket over you more, “Hm?” You reply.

“I said, are you okay?” She repeats.

“Oh, yeah, m’fine.” You nod, moving your chin to rest it on your knees.

“Hey, can you ask you something?” She asked, sitting up right.

You sigh, “Yeah?” You said, moving to look at her.

“Why…uh-why don’t you let me kiss you?”

You froze and turn away, “I dunno…” You lie.

“Just tell me. I thought you wanted this again?” She said, rubbing your knee, you look at her hand.

“I just…I think of your lips on all the others girls…from before.” You mutter, tearing up.

“Baby, come on. We talked about this. It was a mistake, I love you.” She said, grabbing your cheeks in her hands.

You look up at her, “Do you love me too?” She asks, you hesitate.

She leans in, kissing you, it was passionate, loving even.

Until she reaches down and spreads your thighs, you pull back quickly, “I can’t.” You shook your head, shutting your legs.

“We already did, though? What’s your problem?” She says, confused.

“I think…I don’t think I love you anymore.” You said.

“What?” She scoffs, you look up slowly at her. “I-I didn’t even want to come here…I just wanted to see you one last time.” You said, tears falling down your face.

“What do you mean?” She asked, she grabs your hand and you pull it back, letting out a sob.

“I-I’m moving out of Korea with my mom. I leave tomorrow.”

She froze.

“Wait…what?” She said, your lip quivers. “She got a job opportunity in the United States and she’s leaving. I figured i’d go with her…for a fresh start.” You explain.

“Baby, no, you can’t. What about us?” She grabs your face, you shake your head.

“Se-mi, theres no us, not anymore. You put me through too much.” You sob.

“Baby, please? Don’t leave me. We can get past this, there is an us.” She said, hopefully, pulling you closer.

“There stopped being an us the second you fucked your co-worker and lied about it.” You snap, pushing her away.

“God, you’re unbelievable.” You exhale.

“I just…I can’t lose you. I seriously don’t know what i’d do.” She said with a sigh.

“You’ll meet someone new, maybe you could…treat her well? Be faithful to her, okay?” You smile weakly.

“No! No, I don’t want to meet someone new. I want you.” She says.

You tilt your head, “Se-mi, we’d never work, not after everything you’ve done. If you hadn’t done what you did…things would be different. But it’s too late, you can’t change the past.” You said.

She lets a few tears fall down her face, “Y/n, y/n, please don’t leave…” She cries, “I swear to god…I’ll change for you. I don’t know if I see myself with anyone else. I can’t do this without you.” She sobs.

You rub her cheek, wiping a tear off her cheek and kissing her softly.

You pull back and rest your forehead on hers, “I used to think that too, but I know now…it’s going to be okay.” You said, you get up and start to get dressed.

She watches you while she regrets everything, tears rolling down her face.

She puts her T-shirt on and some sweatpants, “Please, don’t go.” She says, her voice cracking.

You exhale, putting your shoes on and she kneels in front of you. “I’d do anything for you…baby. Anything. ”She said.

“Just you.” She places her hands on your knees as she sighs.

“I can’t stay, Se-mi. It’s too late, my flight leaves in the morning. It’ll be okay, mhm?” You said, trying not to break down.

“Can I come with you?”

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

[robinvomit]

I come with an idea for John Constantine. What if like the reader comes home after an exhausting day of work to find John did something stupid like almost burn down the house or summoned literal satan into the living room but is just too tired to deal with him.

[ this is actually a fucking mess and i.. the end might be a bit jumbled. i am exhausted. enjoy, or try to. ]

you pause the moment you try to open the front door and it sticks. the wood is warped and you want to blame it on the weather or spontaneous freak of nature thing - something that won't make you drop your head back and question your life choices. the moment you finally step in, you're met with the smell of burnt fabric, smoke and something sulfurous that suddenly makes you feel like you're standing in a rotting cathedral instead of your apartment.

you look around, lips pursing in thought;

the curtains are singed, no longer the soft color they were the day you bought them. your couch is half burnt and you don't even ask how that happened. you stop at the floor - the dark wood now split open in a violent, gaping hole. you nod, slow, like you're debating how to react.

everything makes a lot more sense when your gaze shifts to the other side of the room and lands on lucifer, settled at your counter with a far too amused smile. he goes to speak and you hold a hand up, shaking your head. you aren't sure if you've got the patience left to hear whatever he may say. you don't even have the energy to be surprised when he doesn't comment on the audacity to silence him.

not too far away is john, slumped against the wall. his coat is scorched and dusted with soot, his hair a mess and sticking up like he'd tried fixing everything by pushing his hands through it. you spot the ash that's smudged on his cheek, the way he's avoiding eye contact. "...didn't go how it was meant to," is all he says, like that alone will somehow explain why it looks like you're standing in the middle of a spiritual war zone.

thirteen hours on your feet. under eight hours of sleep prior. no good food, no caffeine and not a single person who'd made your day easier - you were not in the state to deal with any of it. utterly drained and numb from work, you just started walking towards the hall, pausing only long enough to ask, tired and flat; "you takin' him with you?"

"not today." lucifer raises a finger like he's on a game show, the amusement bringing a grin to his features. "he said the wrong thing," he offers, waving the hand he'd lifted. "i decided to drop by. for the ambience."

you nod again. "ah, yes.. the entire devil is in my kitchen for.. funsies.. because my boyfriend.. is an idiot." you sighed, knowing it wasn't the first, nor the last, time you'd walk into such a situation.

you return your attention to heading to the hall, finally lifting your bag off your shoulder. "this is not my problem, john," you call over your shoulder. "but i swear if it's not fixed by the time i get out of the shower, i will let him take your corpse."

john flinches like the words physically hit him. his mouth opens, closes. no argument. no snarky response. no plea. something told him, for once, that was the best route to take. he'd never heard you so done with him before and it left that broken look. like the only person whose forgiveness he'd do anything for just walked out of the room without bothering to spare him a second glance.

♡

two hours.

you gave him two hours to at least get rid of the hole in the floor and figure out what to do with the couch. get lucifer out of your house. you notice it's gone quiet - too quiet. the kind that settles after disaster and lurks, waiting to see if forgiveness or resentment will follow.

taking a deep resigned breath, you step out of the bedroom and make your way to the living room once more. more awake, feeling less grimy and not so much like you might punch the next person that breathed crooked.

the salt is gone. the floor is finally in one piece, no more marks and smoke. your couch can't be fixed but there's now a throw and two pillows trying to hide the ruined fabric and metal skeleton. the curtains have been replaced with a bedsheet pinned up unevenly. and lucifer? long gone. no note. no trace. no lingering anxiety. only the faint scent of brimstone and that awful aftertaste that came from only certain beings.

john's not on the couch, but back on the floor. back pressed to the wall, knees drawn up with your mug in both hands. it's empty now but held like it's the only warm thing left in the room; like it's the only thing he hasn't touched and destroyed.

you note that his knuckles are scraped up and decorated with a smear of red. his eyes are red rimmed; not from crying but from wearing the weight of his own mistakes and repeating every wrong thing he'd done since he opened his eyes earlier that morning.

he looks up when you step into the doorway. doesn't speak. doesn't try to explain. just watches you like a kicked dog, too proud to beg but too tired to pretend he doesn't want you to stay. he can see you evaluating everything and he's waiting to be cussed out, lectured or for you to start with; "maybe this won't work."

you don't say anything at first, thinking over what to say that won't make his shoulders drop any further.

"you didn't have clean everything, just wanted to not, i don't know.. have a hole in the floor."

his voice cracks on the first syllable. "didn't want you to come back out and have to see it."

"i already saw it."

"yeah." he sighs, head dropping back against the wall. "just... didn't want you to be reminded of who you live with."

you cross the room without a word and sit beside him. not to comfort, not fix him, but just to exist shoulder to shoulder. it's quiet for a few minutes, everything settling in. his hand moves and his knuckles brush against yours and you don't pull away.

the words that follow are ones you could have predicted. they're low, a little bitter. "y'don't have to stay." he says it like he's trying to protect you from all the awful things you'll walk into in the future. like he believes it was just annoying enough to make you regret it.

you shrug before tilting your head to rest on his shoulder. "kind of do," you mumble, hand sliding to press your palm to his, lacing your fingers together. "i pay half of the rent, babe."

the breath he lets out tells you he doesn't know if he should laugh or sigh. his eyes flick to you in a quick glance because the response lands hard. you're not gone. you're not angry. you're not afraid of the mess or what fresh hell might crawl through the floor next week. you're here... and you're joking.

for a second, he stops. something low, brief, almost disbelieving behind his eyes.

"christ," he mutters, rubbing at his face. "you're a bloody nightmare."

you smile to yourself and squeeze his hand, eyes closing as you answer; "takes one to know one, yeah?"

the silence after that isn't cold. it's tired. worn in and painfully familiar. it's a safety he isn't sure how to sit in. he squeezes your hand back in a wordless thank you, gratitude he won't say out loud. not to tonight.

he won't verbalize it. not tonight - but when he finally peels himself up from the floor to nudge you to bed and turns off the lights, he reminds himself to be more cautious about having you walk into a warzone. he crawls into bed beside you after a moment, sinking against you as he whispers, just loud enough to reach you in your dozing state;

"thanks for staying. rent or not."

because deep down, he knows. you didn't stay for the lease. you stayed for him. scars, smoke, lucifer and all. it makes no sense, but he can let that go for the next several hours.

[agentnoun]

Thoughts about One of Expedition 33's Best Scenes

This post is about the final relationship conversation between Verso and Maelle, so it's got pretty big spoilers for the full game beneath the cut!

The reveal that Verso intentionally allowed Gustave to die is incredible.

First, on a narrative level, I think it's natural to feel like maybe Gustave's death scene was a little contrived. C'mon, you're telling me Verso showed up just in time to save Maelle but not in time to save Gustave? How convenient for the narrative, right?

That he did this on purpose completely recontextualizes the whole thing. It's not contrived at all. It's Verso being Verso.

Second: holy shit, the decision to have Verso, the player character, do something so incredibly unsympathetic is brilliant, as is the decision to wait to reveal it until we've already come to understand who Verso is and why he makes the choices he does. Gustave was a good man, full stop. He was kind, generous, brave, intelligent both academically and emotionally. He was mature, strong, yet gentle. The player likely has come to really love Gustave by the time he dies, and for good reason. He's just a legitimately really great guy.

And Verso let him die. On purpose. Because he thought Gustave would be an obstacle to his ultimate goal, a goal that he believes deep down is his only choice. And because he knew achieving that goal would lead to Gustave's death anyway.

Which brings me to the third point: Verso never knew Gustave, and if he did, he might have chosen differently.

Verso worried that, if Maelle learned the true nature of the Canvas before they fought the Paintress, and learned what the Paintress's defeat would mean, she would refuse to help save Aline because she wouldn't want to lose Gustave. And he's probably right about that.

But Gustave, I think, would have agreed with Verso.

This is a blindingly hot take, I recognize, but in Act I, I think we see Gustave's true priorities. In the really great "fuck the mission" scene, Lune asks Gustave if he still believes saving Lumiere is the most important thing, or whether he would choose Maelle over Lumiere. Crucially, Gustave never answers the question. He tells Lune he hopes he still believes that, but he never says he does.

And his decision to die to save Maelle was not about the mission. If he was prioritizing the mission, he would have fled with the Lumina Converter, even if it meant losing Maelle. But he couldn't do that: deep down, in that moment, he chose Maelle over Lumiere.

The most important thing to Gustave was his sister. If he knew staying in the Canvas was killing her and preventing her from healing from her trauma, I think he would understand Verso's choices and even support him. For both of them, their sister is the most important person in the world, and they would both do anything to make sure she's okay. I really believe Gustave would have made the same choice as Verso, and Verso will never know.

There's something just so poignant about it all.

And Maelle accepts Verso's answer. She accepts Verso, even after he admits the truth. (It does seem like she already suspected it, too.) It's probably not lost on either Maelle or Verso that, by this point, they have each taken a sibling from the other--Verso letting Gustave die, and Maelle erasing Alicia. They have also both contributed to the death of almost every single person in the Canvas, too, though only one of them did so knowingly. (It probably helps that Maelle believes she can bring Gustave back as long as she can kick her father out of the Canvas, too.) So she accepts Verso's actions without hate or even anger.

It's a remarkable scene in a game with many.