#my posture is the worst and I Know that's a problem
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Bad nights (part one)
poly marauders x reader
summary: Remus got clingy cuz of the full moon, James lost a match, Sirius has problems with his parents and you aren’t well. How Will this situation turn out?
warnings: I did re read for any mistakes but forgive me if there are still any, English isn’t my first language. Mentions of cramps. *************
The night had been long. The full moon had crept across the sky like a bloodstain, pulling Remus into his darker self. You hadn’t slept much, instead staying by his side, calming him through the transformation, holding him when the worst was ovre. You'd always been there for him during the full moon, to comfort him when he was at the lowest. But the aftermath was always the hardest.
As you slipped out of bed that morning, the sharp ache in your lower stomach was already making itself known. A quick hand to your forehead confirmed the faint but persistent headache you could feel creeping in. But it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You had always hated when your fate overlapped with the moon, but you were persistent and keen on keeping Remus comforted.
Remus was still in a haze, soft curls sticking to his forehead as he lay sprawled across the bed, his breathing slow but steady. You gently stroked his hair, making sure he was comfortable before slipping out of the room.
James was already up, in fact he hadn’t slept at all, pacing in front of the common room window, his Quidditch robes hanging loosely over his frame. His shoulders were slumped, and his usually bright eyes were shadowed with the frustration of the previous day’s loss. g his competitive nature had been bruised, and you could see it in every frustrated sigh he let out, each muttered curse under his breath.
he grumbled as you entered the room, his gaze briefly flicking to you before returning to the window, "Can't believe we lost. We should’ve had that match. I—I don’t know what happened out there."
You let out a sigh, crossing the room to where he stood. The air between you was thick with the unspoken tension of a day that was already setting itself up to be difficult.
"James, you played well," you offered quietly, your voice softer than usual. You needed to conserve your energy today. The last thing you wanted was to get caught in his spiral of selfloathing.
James shook his head, running a hand through his messy hair. "No, I didn't. Not good enough. I'm supposed to be team captain. I’m supposed to—" He cut himself off with an exasperated sound, turning to face you, his eyes wide and hurt. "I let everyone down."
The words were biting,and you could see his frustration beginning to shift into anger, an energy that was heavy and stormy. You stepped closer, reaching up to place a hand gently on his arm, trying to soothe him, but before you could speak again, the door slammed open, and sirius came in looking angry. He stormed into the room, his black hair wild and his eyes full of anger. His jaw was clenched tight, and there was a harshness to his posture that you hadn’t seen in a while.
"Merlin’s bloody beard!" he snapped, throwing his robes down on the nearest chair. "She’s done it again. That vile, disgusting woman." He glared at the empty space as though it had personally offended him, his voice low but full of venom. "I swear I’ll hex her into next week if she don’t stop—"
"Sirius, you interrupted, your voice breaking through the tension. "What’s happened? Who’s did what?"
He turned toward you, frustration written all over his face. "My mother," he spat the words like they were poison. "She—" He broke off with a frustrated growl. "She's spreading more of her lies. Calling me a disgrace. I don't care what she says about me, but it's the way she talks about you, about all of us. She doesn’t know when to keep her damn mouth shut."
You could see the frustration etched in every line of his face, the fury he was barely containing.
"She doesn't get to say those things about us, not about you—" Sirius began again, but before he could continue, Remus appeared in the doorway, a little disoriented but still with that familiar, warm look in his eyes. The transformation had left him weak, but the gentle way he looked at you was a comfort.
“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice still rough from the remnants of the full moon, his body swaying slightly as he leaned against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”
You smiled softly at him, but the heaviness of the room was starting to press in on you. "I'm fine, Remus. Just dealing with everything." You gestured to the others, who were now standing near each other, the tension between them palpable. Sirius, full angery, James, sulking and looking down at the floor, and Remus, who was still far too clingy for your liking, though you loved him, the constant need for contact, for reassurance, was draining, especially when there was sm going on
Remus slowly shuffled over to you, his hand reaching out to touch your arm. “I know you’ve been up all night,” he murmured, his touch warm and familiar as he leaned his head against your shoulder. "But I'm... I just need you close."
You felt the weight of his need, the way his exhaustion made him cling to you even more than usual. Remus, after the full moon, was always a little more fragile—more in need of comfort, You didn’t have the energy to refuse him, so you let him rest his head on your shoulder, but the pressure of his presence felt like an anchor, keeping you stuck in the moment. His body heat radiated against yours, a contrast to the coldness that was between the others.
Sirius scoffed, his eyes flashing as he watched the scene unfold. "Do you really have to do that now, Remus?" he bit out, his voice sharp. "She’s already dealing with James’s little pity party and now you're draping yourself all over her like a bloody blanket."
James shot Sirius a dark look. "Sirius, not now. We’re already having a bad enough day without you making things worse."
But Sirius, already on edge from his mother’s words, wasn’t about to let it slide. “And you,” he snarled at James, "stop blaming yourself. You lost. Fine. So what? You don’t see me running around crying like a bloody baby." He turned back to Remus, his voice rising. "You’ve been through worse too, mate, but that doesn’t mean you get to turn her into your personal cushion!",
Remus pulled away slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion, but the words struck hard. He looked between the two of them, his hand still resting on your arm but his face now drawn tight with exhaustion and hurt. “I just—I don’t know what you want from me, Sirius,” he said softly, a bit too emotionally raw for his own liking. "I’m just trying to get through the damn day." His emotions all over the place from the exhaustion and pain.
You could feel it—everyone was breaking at the seams, and you were stuck in the middle, trying to pick up the pieces without anyone knowing just how much you were struggling too. The ache in your stomach intensified, but you bit your lip, trying to hide it, not wanting to add another layer of complication to everything already unraveling around you.
You caught James’s eyes as he stood there, his expression distant and hurt. He was disappointedt in the situation, in the way everything had turned out. The way the room felt as if it were closing in around you.
Sirius was still glaring at Remus, and James was still looking at you like you were the one thing left in the world that made sense.
And for the first time, you didn’t know how to fix it.
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#marauder#marauder era#marauder fanfiction#marauders angst#poly marauders x reader#poly marauders x you#sirius black x reader#remus x sirius#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders x reader#marauders x y/n#marauders x you#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james x reader#James x Sirius#sirius x remus#Sirius x reader
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5, 10, and 14!
5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son
Hah, I'm honestly not really a playlist-as-inspiration person. For me, playlists/fanmixes are an independent fanart form that I don't really feel the impulse to make about my own work.
However I definitely listen to my Murderbot synth fanmix a lot now to get in the Zone for writing Murderbot fanfic.
10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?
TITLES... THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE...
Most of the time, titles only come at the end, when it's time to share the story, and I go "fuvk fuck fuck what do I call it." I very rarely have a title in mind when I'm writing something; most of my documents are titled things like "Ezri fic 1" "Ezri fic 2" "Ezri fic 3" or "Murderbot - Indah and Gerth" and "Murderbot - Ratthi whump". Even original stories are stuff like "Aro Ace Anxiety Aliens story" and "astrology story". *I* know what I mean!
Which means titles tend to come at the very end.
There are a couple where the titles have come early on and I want to write specifically for that - I have a Metal Gear fic half-outlined that who knows if I will ever write called "This Place Is Not a Place of Honor" about Naomi Hunter's life story, and a Star Trek fic idea that's been floating around my brain for a while called "An Object In Motion" about the Enterprise suffering a Random Engine Failure (as u do) while moving at .25c and if they don't fix the engines real fast they are going to collide with the planet they were travelling to.
But mostly titles are either one word or a short phrase relevant to the story that I have to come up with on the spot when posting/submitting it.
14. what’s your worst writing habit?
Wanting to write and then not writing :') Also not wanting to edit once the words are on the page :'''') Going "ugh I don't want to edit it's Fine" is probably my worst writing habit.
That and awful slouchy posture.
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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k
cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping.
I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered.
You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely.
When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap.
You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in.
It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them.
Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him.
You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you.
Your phone rings a moment later.
You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too.
“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“How come?” You sit up with a little start.
“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further.
“Are you okay?”
“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.”
“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man.
“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?”
“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.”
“And you want me to fix that?”
“You always fix my neck.”
“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that.
“I have bad posture.”
“You have perfect posture.”
“No, it’s quite bad.”
He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.”
He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.”
“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.”
“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.”
“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.”
“What did I lose?”
You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.
“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.”
“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.”
“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.”
“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says.
“Or I could make us both some?”
“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”
You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected.
Cruel overpass, you think.
Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek.
The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later.
You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back.
Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—
A sudden chill.
The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard.
Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain.
You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor.
All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth.
A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.
Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath.
He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something.
Your phone rings on the counter.
“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.
You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins.
—
There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.
What will he make of my handiwork?
You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.
The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.”
“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.”
“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot.
“Honey?” a voice asks.
“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays.
Honey, are you in here?
—
The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder.
Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off.
Jack squirms closer, no room left between them.
“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says.
Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead.
“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.”
Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.”
“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.”
Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile.
“I look tired,” he says.
“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it.
“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.”
Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile.
“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.”
Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.”
“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?”
Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.”
“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.”
Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea.
Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you.
“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?”
“You said I can give her a hug.”
“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.”
“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says.
Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.”
Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs.
“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”
“Yeah.”
Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room.
You’re sleeping.
Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing.
He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze.
The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown.
Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic.
“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly.
Jack stays sitting.
He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt.
You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown.
“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says.
“When can she come home?”
“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you.
“Why is she sleeping all day?”
Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.”
“Should we go?”
Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.”
“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.
“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees.
If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give.
You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap.
Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly.
“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession.
“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat.
He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face.
You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms.
“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open.
Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again.
Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk.
The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”
“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.”
A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?”
“Excuse me?”
Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need.
He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively.
Aaron lets out a breath.
“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.”
“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.
His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some.
Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone.
“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.”
“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.”
“I know.”
“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.”
“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.”
A tear rolls down your cheek.
“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.”
“Is that what you want? You want a hug?”
“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder.
You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper.
Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down.
Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying.
“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently.
“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears.
“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic.
“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow.
He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow.
Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand.
—
Is she breathing? Can she talk?
I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from.
Where’s the worst of the blood?
It’s everywhere.
Abdominal? Chest?
I can’t tell. I can’t tell.
Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?
Yes. Yes, but–
Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions.
Honey, can you hear me?
Your name said clearly.
“Hey, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” you murmur.
“If you need a minute, that’s okay.”
You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass.
Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface.
“Maybe we should start from the beginning.”
There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.
“Okay.”
Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you.
You close your eyes.
“What stuck out?”
“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.”
“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?”
“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.”
Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.”
“I never got that far.”
“What did you do?”
“I filled the kettle.”
“What kettle?”
You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.”
“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?”
“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.”
“When?”
“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”
“And then–”
“Then he grabbed me.”
“Yeah,” Emily says softly.
You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.”
“Like he was quick on his feet?”
“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.”
“How big did he feel?”
Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big.
Where’s the worst of the blood?
“He said he was going to hide,” you remember.
“He said that? He said ‘hide’?
“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.”
“When was this?”
It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers.
“That was at the end,” you say.
“After he stabbed you?”
You wince. “Yes. After.”
“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.”
“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.”
“When Hotch found you?”
“No, before.”
“Before?” she asks.
You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move.
You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?
“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room.
“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.”
You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose.
“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly.
“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?”
So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much.
You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room.
You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron.
You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood.
“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees.
That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay.
He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear.
“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur.
He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread.
You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again.
“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say.
“Yes, I do.”
“Please don’t let me get hurt again.”
Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.”
You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep.
Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one. He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you.
He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water.
“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.”
You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters.
“I’m gonna be sick,” you say.
“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Please.”
“Did Emily tell you about my interview?”
He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?”
“I don’t want to say it again.”
“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.”
You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?”
“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.”
You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread.
“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern.
“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.”
“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?”
You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop.
Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again.
It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative.
“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says.
“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world.
“…This is my fault.”
“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep.
Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.”
“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly.
“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.
“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.”
You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless.
“I love you,” he says again.
“I know.”
“No, I love you.”
He’s saying sorry.
“I love you,” you mumble back.
“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?”
Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.”
“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.”
You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound.
His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both.
You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours.
“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says.
You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek.
—
Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises.
“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters.
“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.”
The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved.
I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone.
It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them.
I won’t.
He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will.
Foyet didn’t need much more than that.
He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either.
Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid.
One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.
Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner.
Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries.
He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you
Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this.
He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again.
He rubs his brow.
“You okay?” Emily asks.
When he looks up, JJ is gone.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not.”
He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says.
It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day.
He can’t fail you, too.
“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks.
Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?”
“Being in love.”
He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.”
She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”
Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks.
He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger.
It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt.
“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says.
He shakes his head.
She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.”
But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety.
“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.”
Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.”
He turns his attention back to the board without another word.
—
When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest.
Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him.
He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks.
He goes home satisfied.
“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in.
“Honey?” Aaron calls.
“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits.
Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!”
“Hi, buddy, what are you doing?”
“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.”
“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.
“You got him?” you ask.
He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.”
“How did you find him?”
He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.”
You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?”
“Brave.”
“I’m a coward.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.”
All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby.
Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless.
“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.”
“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.”
“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.”
“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue.
“But it keeps happening.”
His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead.
“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?”
“I remember,” he says, practically mouths.
“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–”
You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands.
“I didn’t want this for you,” he says.
“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?”
He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.”
You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.”
He looks at you in silence.
“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.”
He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?”
Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag.
You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed.
But not everything.
“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head.
He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly.
You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered.
He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Was Jack good?”
“Jack’s always good.”
“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?”
“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.”
“I can get those.”
“I know, I knew you would.”
He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek.
“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely.
“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip.
“My present?”
He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.”
In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks.
“Thank you,” you say.
Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him.
He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.”
He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch.
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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under the mistletoe
kim minji x fem!reader ; fluff
synopsis: your ex is going to be at your cousin's christmas party so you convince your super cute gorgeous amazing stupid idotic hot best friend to play girlfriend for the night--it should be fine, right? it's not like anything real will happen... right? right??
warnings: fake dating but there's like no angst bc they're too gay to be doing all that (i can't write angst idk) ; making out!!! HOORAY!!!!! ; nerd minji my lover ; they're so gay ; kinda fast paced ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread!!!
a/n: wanted to get winter themed fics out for all three before christmas but that prob won't happen LOL anyways this idea has been marinating in my head forever, enjoy!!! oh, and merry christmas!!
“i hate jake.”
minji looks away from her phone, one eyebrow raised as she watches you sink into the cushion even further. this is the third time you’ve groaned dramatically in the last five minutes.
“…jake is your cousin.” she points out, dryly.
“and the worst person on earth.” you mutter, setting your phone down beside you. minji watches you lean over until you flop against her with a very questionable posture. “he’s forcing me to go to his stupid christmas party.”
“and this is a problem because…?”
“because,” you huff, sitting up straight again. “my ex will be there. probably just to annoy me.”
minji immediately makes a face, scrunching her nose in disgust. “ugh, gross… didn’t she dump you for ‘personal growth’ and in that same month started dating a man?”
“i fear.” you reply, crossing your arms. “her egos so big that she probably thinks i’m miserable over her. i got over her the moment i found out she was with a man! she thinks im some stupid, emotionally immature—ugh.“
minji rolls her eyes. “i can’t believe you dated her—for four months.”
“not my brightest time.”
“it baffles me,” minji begins, “i hated her, you know?”
“oh, i know.” you glance at her, failing to hide a small smile despite your frustration. “you were not subtle about it.”
“well i wasn’t trying to be,” she says flatly, setting her phone down and looking at you properly. you peel yourself off her shoulder, moving yourself over to lay flat on your back your couch with one leg over minji’s lap. “so, what’s your plan? you can’t just go and let her get under your skin.”
you let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “i don’t know. maybe i just… won’t go.”
“that’s an option,” minji starts, poking at the gingerbread man on your pajama pants mindlessly. “but jake will never shut up if you skip.”
“i know,” you groan, running your hands further up to grip at your hair out of frustration. “what do i even do? show up alone and let her pity me? she’s going to think i’m a loser—a bigger loser than the one she already makes up in her head.”
“you could just… not show up? make an excuse?”
“jake is pretentious—he’ll know i’m bluffing.”
“send him a fake screenshot of the thermometer showing that you have a high fever?”
“no, he’ll know.”
minji sighs, tilting her head as she studies you. “so what’s your plan then? cry in the corner? accidentally spill juice on her—or even worse—on yourself and hide in the bathroom?”
“you’re so mean to me.” you huff, sitting up and leaning against the opposite side of the couch now. you stare at minji for a bit, she’s looking at you with raised brows and a curious expression that makes you sit up straighter. “oh my god, i have a plan.”
minji immediately looks suspicious. “what kind of plan?”
“it involves you.”
“absolutely not.”
“i didn’t even say anything yet!” you kick her thigh, making her push your foot away. “just listen. you play my girlfriend for the night,” you say proudly, grinning at her like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.
minji blinks. “what?”
“we date—not for real—for the party.”
she stares at you for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “you’re kidding me.”
“i’m not! think about it—it’s perfect. she’ll see me with you, someone way better than her, then she’ll get off my back, and i won’t have to spend the whole night dodging her.”
minji shakes her head, though there’s a faint flush creeping up her neck. “and why would i agree to this?”
“because you love me?” you say skeptically, giving her a stupid pout and your best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “please, minji. you just have to stick with me and pretend to like me and plus–you’ll get free food and drinks. please?”
minji hesitates, poking at the gingerbread man on your pants again, the same one right over your shin. you tear your leg away from her, expecting an answer. “i don’t know…” she mumbles.
“i’ll treat you to dinner.” you add, which makes minji shoot her head up.
“dinner?”
“whatever you want.” you promise.
minji sighs, letting her head fall back against the couch. “fine. but only because i can’t stand her either—and i kind of feel bad for you.”
you barely let her finish the sentence before launching yourself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug with your arms around her shoulders. you’ve pushed her down a bit, she’s holding your weight, and her senses are overwhelmed from the scent of vanilla that clouds you and the warmth radiating off of your body.
“thank you!” you exclaim, your voice heavy with relief.
her hands hover awkwardly in the air for a moment before resting lightly on your back. “you’re welcome?”
it’s only then that you realize how close you are—your face inches from hers, your breath brushing against her lips. you can feel her tense beneath you, her gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth and back again. her lips part ever so slightly, and the light press of her hand on your back falters.
the air shifts, something growing heavier on you two, but before you can dwell on it too long, minji gently pushes you off with a nervous laugh.
“y-you were crushing me,” she says, her cheeks tinged pink as she sits back, putting some space between you. “are you that happy that i agreed?”
“yes,” you grin, unable to stop the warmth spreading through your chest. “you’re the best, seriously.”
“yeah, yeah,” she mutters, reaching for a pillow and chucking it at your head. “just don’t get used to it.”
you groan when the pillow hits you, grabbing it from her hands and leaping over to get her back. you two fight each other playfully on the couch, you even knock minji’s glasses off her nose. and through the bickering, your heart skips a little when she’s trapped one of your legs between both of hers, and you’re trying to defend yourself while pushing her off—hyperaware of the proximity.
maybe playing girlfriend for a bit won’t be too bad.
-
after getting dumped months ago, the first person you turned to was minji.
she didn’t hesitate. the moment she saw your glossy eyes, she pulled you into her arms, holding you close until you calmed down. that night, she didn’t hold back her thoughts about your awful ex, and you stayed over, letting her cook you breakfast the next morning.
you’ve always been good friends, spent a good amount of time together, but somehow, after that night your friendship felt different—deeper—after that.
since then, you’ve found comfort in each other, always finding reasons to be together thrown in with superficial insults. sometimes it’s quiet—her sitting on your couch while you fold laundry and hum along to something playing on your phone, or maybe it’s you at her place while she studies. even when she hates chores, minji pitches in without complaint, and you never question why.
then there are the little outings: a walk in the park, dropping off a package, or now: grocery shopping. it’s nothing extravagant, but somehow it always feels like enough. it’s always enough with her.
you and minji are strolling through the grocery store side by side. minji holds a small basket in her hand while you grab and toss random items in with little thought. she’s squinting at a list on her phone, her lips moving slightly as she mutters the items under her breath.
“i was thinking,” you begin, and minji looks up, quirking a brow.
“oh god.”
“you’re so mean to me.” you flick her shoulder before continuing. “if we’re going to be girlfriends, we need a solid backstory. something believable.”
minji grabs a jar of almond butter and tosses it in the basket. “you’re overthinking this.”
“no, i’m not. what if someone asks us how we got together? we need a solid story,” you argue, “and i know jake is going to be interrogating me as soon as i introduce you—or at least curious, maybe.”
minji sighs. “fine. how about… we were hanging out, just the two of us, and suddenly we just fell in love or something. we confessed while watching a romance film, maybe?”
“wow,” you giggle, “that’s so original. super romantic.”
“it’s simple and probably believable,” she says defensively, nudging you with her finger.
“it’s corny.” you tease, turning and stepping into the next aisle. “how about this: we were at a concert and locked eyes and—”
“that’s even worse.” minji groans, covering her face with her hand.
“i didn’t even finish!”
“exactly. it sounds like hyein made that up.” she snickers, “i can’t believe she’s also your cousin.”
“one cousin that probably won’t make it to the party,” you sigh in relief, “she’d blow the whole plan, knowing how we are.”
“what?” minji questions, curious as to what ‘we are’ is. before she can ask, you cut her thoughts off.
“we’ll go with your idea i guess. but we also have to spend lots of time together, more than we usually do, and we kind of just have to make it believable.”
“that’s nothing.”
“well i can’t really trust you on that, minji. you’re not the brightest.”
you two continue to bicker and poke at this whole ‘fake dating’ ordeal. as you head out to the checkout line, loading your items onto the conveyor belt, an elderly lady in front of you turns around, her eyes twinkling as she smiles warmly.
“you two make such a lovely couple,” she says, her voice kind. “you compliment each other so well.”
both of you freeze for a moment, caught completely off guard. you glance at minji, whose ears have turned a noticeable shade of red, and you can’t help but grin.
“uh, thank you.” minji mumbles, suddenly very interested in organizing the groceries.
you don’t correct the woman, instead leaning slightly closer to minji and whispering, “see? it’s already working.”
minji rolls her eyes and shoves you lightly with her shoulder, unable to hide her flustered expression. it’s different than her usual, calm demeanor, and you like it. it’s cute.
you laugh, nudging her back. “you’re kind of cute when you’re like that.”
“what?” minji asks, a lump forming in her throat. “you’re so… you’re so annoying.”
—
countdown: two weeks until the party
you’re doing your best not to think about having to drive almost forty-minutes south for jake’s stupid party at his stupid (-ly nice) house. instead, you’re at your usual cafe spot with hanni, danielle, and minji. the conversation is casual, filling the air, along with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.
you’re mid-rant, your hands gesturing animatedly as you lean forward. “i’m just saying, if you’re going to take a lit class, at least try to understand the material. this guy skims a few pages of virginia woolf and pretends he’s a ‘feminist.’ he’s doing the absolute most to appeal to women—half that class is gay!”
“which guy was this again? there’s too many men you hate on.” hanni asks playfully, sipping on her latte.
“heeseung. oh my god,” you huff, leaning back in your chair. “he’s so fake. he’ll throw out random quotes that barely connect to what we’re discussing, and the worst part? half the class buys it because he’s loud and confident. he doesn’t actually care about the themes or depth of anything. all heeseung does is show up to class, dress like some girls ‘dream man’ pinterest board, and plays pretend.”
danielle glances up with a small frown. “that’s frustrating. especially since you actually like the material.”
“exactly!” you say, stirring your straw around for no reason at all. “and don’t even get me started on how he turns every discussion into some weird way to hit on the girls in class. like, ‘oh, you’re so insightful. you must be really in touch with your emotions.’ oh my god i can’t stand straight men. i can’t stand people who enable them.”
minji chuckles quietly into her drink. the sound draws your attention, and for some reason, when your eyes meet hers, the air between you shifts. her gaze softens slightly, her lips quirking upward in a way that makes you stare a bit.
“he probably thinks he’s all that.” minji remarks, her voice steady but her gaze soft.
you falter for half a second, your rant losing steam. it’s not just the way she’s looking at you—it’s the way your chest tightens like someone tying a knot and tugging. it’s unexpected, and the way minji smiles down at her cup makes you feel all tingly inside. that’s odd. more than odd.
“yeah, exactly.” you quickly look away, ignoring whatever is making you do a double take. “he’s so one-dimensional, self-absorbed, and i hate him.”
minji bites back another smile, trying to keep her focus on her drink instead of the way you light up when you rant. she likes the way you talk, the furrow of your brows, the passion in your tone. she knows it’s a little dangerous, this quiet admiration she can’t seem to shake, the same admiration she pushed down your first semester. she’s gotten too good at keeping it to herself to lose now, and why now anyway?
hanni nudges you with her elbow. “at least he’s giving you plenty of material for complaints. maybe you could analyze him for an essay.”
you laugh, the sound warm and genuine.
minji’s stomach does a little flip—she wishes it wouldn’t.
“i’d seem like a fan,” you reply, shaking your head. “i’d rather focus on something—or someone—that actually matters.”
the words hang in the air for a second longer than intended, and your eyes dart back to minji’s. it’s fleeting, but there it is again—the strange flutter, like time paused just enough for something to stir.
minji looks away quickly, busying herself by looking out the window, and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to hanni and danielle.
the moment passes, but the undercurrent lingers. neither of you speak on it.
—
countdown: nine days until the party
minji’s apartment is chaos, but the adorable kind. her two-year-old nephew is currently standing on the couch, holding a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other, refusing to eat the carrot sticks minji had cut up for him.
“you’ll like it if you just try it,” minji sighs, sitting in front of him. he’s sitting on the couch, towering over her because of the level difference. it’s almost comical.
he shakes his head, lying flat on his back and ignoring her.
you lean against the kitchen counter, biting back a grin as minji sighs dramatically and pinches the bridge of her nose. “you’re lucky you’re so cute,” she mutters, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of her bickering with a child. she pinches his cheek and adds, “otherwise i’d be less lenient, you troublemaker.”
“he’s kind of like you. stubborn… and cute.” you tease, muttering the last part to yourself. you pull out your phone to snap a picture, minji whirling around a moment too late after you capture the scene.
“aw, i’ve got to make this my wallpaper.” you laugh, walking over and sitting down next to her.
minji rolls her eyes, shoving you lightly. “is this for our ‘fake dating’ thing?”
you hadn’t thought about that; in fact, you forgot about it for a brief moment. “oh,” you begin, looking at her with a strange confusion in your heart. “well, no. i thought it was a cute… candid moment.”
“whatever.” she grumbles, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as she returns to negotiating with her nephew. “but send me that, please.”
…
lunchtime comes with fewer arguments, mostly because minji bribes the toddler with nuggets. the three of you end up at a cozy cafe, not too far from the one you frequent with your friends. the kid is perched in a high chair between you and minji, eating happily.
minji is effortlessly charming, coaxing him to eat some of the carrots she brought with her and laughing at the attempts of sentences that he babbles. her eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that makes your heart feel a little too full.
you snap another picture when she’s not looking—minji leaning over to wipe ketchup off the kid’s cheek, her expression soft and so full of care it marks your chest ache.
“why are you smiling like an idiot?” she asks, catching you mid-photo.
“no reason,” you lie, slipping your phone into your pocket with a small, secret grin.
…
back at minji’s apartment, the liveliness dies down and reaches something still, something quieter. her nephew gets tired from the walking that occurred after lunch, so when you’re all back home he’s tucked under minji’s arm, clutching his dinosaur.
minji’s in a crewneck and grey sweatpants with two braids resting against the pillow her head is on, loose strands fraying out. she reaches over to drape the blanket over the two of them, and you watch from the door frame as you lean on it.
her eyes close from exhaustion, and that’s when you quietly grab the polaroid sitting on her shelf. it’s a spontaneous decision, but perfect for the moment. you turn it on, smile at the two, and press click. the flash catches you off guard, you’re afraid to wake them—but neither of them budge.
the photo prints out slowly, and once it’s fully spewed out you shake it in your hand so it can develop. it takes a moment to develop, but once it does, the smile on your face grows and stretches from ear to ear: minji’s face is relaxed, peaceful, and her nephew eunwoo is nestled against her with a similar expression. you slide the polaroid into the back of your phone case—just because.
as you turn to leave, minji stirs, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see you.
“stay,” she murmurs, her voice laced with sleep.
“minji,” you start, but she shifts a bit, making room for you while keeping eunwoo comfy. she pats an empty space beside her and grins tiredly.
“just for a little while,” she whispers, her eyes already closing again. “please?”
it’s the ‘please’ that does it. you hesitate only for a moment before stepping closer, your heart beating so loudly that if makes you wonder if she can hear it. climbing into the bed next to her, the mattress dips as you settle, minji instinctively drapes an arm over you, and it feels just right. the warmth of her so close is almost too much, but its perfect in a way you can’t bring yourself to think about twice.
you’ve always been fine with being touchy when it came to minji—lingering on the couch together, playful shoves, nudges, and maybe a limb or two resting on one another—but now? it’s much different. it’s easy to close your eyes and let yourself fall when she’s so close.
…
you wake up to the light outside fading, the room covered with the remnants of the sun shining through the window. minji is still beside you, her face turned toward yours, her breathing slow and even. her nephew is a small weight against her other side, pressed against her with the way her hand is angled and still clutching his dinosaur.
minji’s eyes flutter open just barely, and she looks at you like she’s still dreaming. there’s something unsaid in the way she gazes at you, something quiet and tender and a little overwhelming.
you don’t say anything, and neither does she. but the more the silence stretches on and with each slow blink she gives you while her lips form into another small smile—you realize you don’t want the moment to end.
she’s close, warm, and comfy—that’s minji. you realize it then as the sun continues to set, as your breaths are the only sound filling the room, and as minji absentmindedly strokes her thumb against your shoulder repeatedly that you wouldn’t mind being her real girlfriend. not if it meant being this close to her whenever you wanted and getting to love her on a different level.
the thought doesn’t scare you. it doesn’t feel rushed or strange or anything too overwhelming. it just is. the thought simply lingers in the air.
she shifts slightly, her arm moving over to rest on your back before pushing you closer to her. she lets out a content sigh as a full smile takes over. your heart flutters, and you smile back, just as soft.
eunwoo stirs, a little groan wakes both you and minji up a bit more. his voice breaks the moment as he mumbles something incoherent, and you see his little hand reaching over and squishing minji’s cheek in the process, even messing her braid up a bit more. you laugh at the sight and minji turns to him, brushing his hair back gently.
“time to wake up,” she murmurs lowly. “your mom might show up soon.”
the three of you wake up slowly, with minji being the first one to rub her eyes and sit up first. before she tends to her nephew, she glances at you with a strange new feeling in her eyes and it makes you think that maybe she feels the same way. maybe she wouldn’t mind if the agreement could stretch to new years and further. maybe she wouldn’t mind if it weren’t fake.
—
countdown: five days until the party.
minji stays near your side as you navigate the packed clothing store with her, hanni, and danielle. there’s a variety of t-shirts that you stop by so you can skim through, dresses that hanni and danielle consider buying for their sisters, and assortments of accessories that you all try on together, snapping pictures to add to your favorites folder.
“this is hideous,” you mutter, holding up a sweater that resembles a traffic cone but ten times more saturated.
“you should try it on,” minji insists with a smirk, already holding a ridiculous blazer with sequins lining it. “with this too. your ex won’t know what hit her, maybe the light will reflect off you and she’ll—”
“you think you’re so funny,” you narrow your eyes at her. “i can’t be the only one stealing the spotlight with my… hazardous outfit, can i? as my girlfriend you have to compliment me.” you grab the most outrageous pieces you can find—a neon, yellow turtleneck and pants that are somehow both plaid as they are glittery—then shove them into minji’s arms.
“so you want to play like that?” she grins, darting off to find something even worse.
hanni and danielle stand off to the side, watching the chaos unfold as you and minji start handing each other more and more ridiculous items for each other to try while giggling like middle schoolers. hanni’s shaking her head, her lips twitching into a smile. “they’re like an actual couple.”
“they really are.” danielle agrees, watching minji as she holds up a pair of fuzzy reindeer slippers and waves them at you like she’s found gold.
“you’re going to look amazing in these,” minji says, basically cackling.
“you’re going to look even better, babe,” you retort, putting a dramatically large hat on top of her head.
the entire store can probably hear you two laughing like idiots as you head into the dressing rooms, but neither of you care. and when you both step out, dressed head to toe in the most absurd clothing, hanni is the first to burst out laughing, immediately pulling her phone out and documenting everything. danielle hides her face behind her hands, trying not to laugh but failing miserably.
minji steps out and winks at you. she’s clad in an oversized t-shirt that says “elf of the year” and the glitter, plaid hybrid pants you handed to her. she looks like an absolute idiot, and you figure this might be the moment you really fall for her.
“you look so stupid.” you laugh at her with an amused look on your face.
“you know,” hanni says between giggles, “if you two show up to the party like this, you’ll definitely convince everyone you’re together.”
danielle nods, her cheeks pink from laughter. “you’re already convincing enough.”
minji glances at you, her smile softening just a little. “maybe we’re overthinking the outfits,” she teases, but there’s something in her eyes that lingers longer than it should.
you shake it off. “maybe.” you say, your tone playful as you walk back into the dressing room.
“you’d still look good in that, though. you do now.” she replies, but her voice is quieter, as if she only wanted you to hear it.
instead of letting yourself get flustered, you roll your eyes and step inside the changing room, looking in the mirror to see a faint blush on your cheeks.
—
countdown: <24 hours
you’re curled up on the couch with minji since both of you have been much more comfortable with being this close. a movie plays in the background, her arm is wrapped around you, and a blanket covers your legs that tangle together. the movie is something light and easy—your pick, though you can’t seem to focus on the plot.
minji feels your leg tapping up and down subtly against her, notices your tongue poking at your cheek, and the way your fingers fidget with one another. she’s aware of everything, of course she is. she’s sitting close enough that you feel her shift toward you, her presence grounding but not enough to fully settle your nerves.
“you’re doing that thing again.” she says.
“what thing?” you mumble, avoiding her gaze.
“the thing where you’re silently spiraling, fidgeting, freaking out—the latter.” she says simply, turning to look at you. “what’s on your mind?”
you sigh, pausing the tap of your leg and fidgeting and everything else. you run a hand through your hair before letting your upper body go limp against the cushion of your couch and minji’s forearm. “the party… i feel like it’s going to go bad or something. my ex, she’s… she’s so unbearable and extra! she’s only invited because she’s friends with jake’s girlfriend and ugh i don’t even know if this whole plan is going to work out because she knows you and—”
“hey,” minji cuts you off gently, and before you can protest, she reaches out and places her hand on yours. her touch is warm, her thumbs brushing over your knuckles before she boldly moves her hand over to your face now, cupping your cheek. “it’ll be fine,” she assures, and her voice is so steady that you almost believe her.
you blink, your breath catches, then shivers when you breathe out as best as you can. she’s looking at you with her pretty brown eyes through the frames that make her look like a huge nerd while simultaneously the cutest person as well and—
“minji…” you start, her name leaving your lips before your brain can process it. your stomach is doing something stupid and fluttery, the tension crackles between you like wood in a fire, keeping you two in place, pulling you closer.
you flinch at the sound of the abrupt buzz of your phone beside you. it snaps the moment in two, making you glance away from her as reality takes over again. she pulls her hand back slowly, resting them back on your hand instead.
she leans back and lightly mumbles, “you should get that,” her voice quieter than before.
you reach for your phone, your chest tight and your mind racing as you answer it.
it’s jake. of course it’s jake. his voice on the other end barely registers, something about ‘you’re coming, right?’ and ‘don’t bail on me!” followed by a stupid chuckle. your thoughts are still stuck on minji, and you’re wondering if the tension in the air weighed her down just as it did to you.
the call drags on, you glance at her from the corner of your eye. she’s staring at the screen, pretending to be absorbed in the movie, but her fingers fidget with the blanket. you can tell she’s just as thrown off as you are.
when you finally hang up, placing your phone back down beside you, minji looks over with a brow raised.
“jake,” you answer, even if she never asked anything. “he’s… yeah. just checking up on me.”
“right.” minji purses her lips.
you two sit awkwardly far from each other as the movie continues on, but eventually, you can’t take it anymore and return to your normal position. this time, your head rests on her shoulder comfortably, and your hands are intertwined. minji rubs her thumb against the back of your palm, and you think you could stay like this for hours.
–
countdown: finished!
minji parks the car and you take a deep breath in.
“relax, babe.” minji’s attempt at lightening the mood makes you smile softly. “we got this.”
“you sure?”
minji rolls her eyes, then takes your hand in hers as she does a rundown on your ‘relationship.’
“we’ve been friends for a while, i fell first but you’re the one who confessed first while we watched a romance movie—”
you cut her off, “and?”
“and after that we’ve been glued together by the hip. i know your likes and dislikes by default, um, our first date was… by the river? bike rides…?”
“you don’t sound certain.” you tease, “but you’re right.”
“whatever. and that’s it. everything else is just… our um, friendship.” minji’s voice dies down a bit when she says ‘friendship,’ the word articulates as if it were bitter on her tongue. “now let’s go.”
you and minji are side by side, her shoulder brushing against yours as you step through the door. music and scattered conversation are heard throughout the house, and you instinctively stick close to her. jake is the first to greet you, his grin wide as he pulls you into a quick hug.
“you made it!” he beams, then his eyes dart to minji. “and this is…?”
“this is minji,” you introduce, your tone casual while your thumb begins to scratch at your skin.
“minji,” jake repeats, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “didn’t know you were dating anyone… you know she’s here— well, never mind that. guess we need some more time to catch up, huh?”
minji laughs softly, her hand lightly grazing your arm. “it’s a recent thing, few months.” she says firmly.
“yeah, kind of a surprise for us too. it happened out of nowhere, but i’m really happy.” you add with a shrug, trying to ignore the heat spreading up your neck. jake raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further, to your surprise, and waves you both inside before giving minji a friendly side hug.
the party is more crowded than you expected, a mix of familiar faces and strangers scattered throughout the house. it’s not really a family gathering, not with the way jake’s friends have taken over the kitchen and living room. he’s always had a thing with turning events, even familial, social.
you and minji linger close, navigating through the small groups with an ease that surprises even you. every so often, while you’re greeting some mutual friends, you catch her glancing at you, a smile tugging at her lips and something in her eyes that you can’t decipher.
“when you said your cousin was inviting you to a holiday party… i expected it to be very formal and family-like.” minji murmurs as the two of you settle on the couch in the living room, plates of food balanced on your laps.
“he invites the cousins that are older and are on good terms with him.” you reply, rolling your eyes fondly. “he likes things like this. but hey, he’s fun, and he knows how to grill.”
minji laughs, nudging your leg lightly with hers. the sound is soft and warm, cutting through the background noise and settling somewhere deep in your heart.
as the two of you eat, you find yourself leaning into her presence without thinking. her knee bumps against yours and neither of you moves away.
“i’ll grab us some more soda,” you say after a while, setting your empty plate on the table and standing.
“don’t get lost,” she teases, her smile lingering as you head toward the kitchen.
you glance back once, catching the way she watches you leave. it’s subtle, but it’s enough to make you feel like she really adores you.
…
cold air hits your face as you dig past cans of beer and bottles of wine while you shuffle through the fridge. you finally spot the sodas in the back and grab two coke zero’s, but the condensation already makes your hands feel slick and damp. as you shut the door, you hear someone clear their throat.
turning, you come face to face with her. it’s like being hit with a wave you didn’t see coming, but at the same time you were preparing for it. now that it hits you, it’s really chilling. her hair is a little different, her smile just as sharp, and she seems as pretentious as before. you’re surprisingly able to stay calm.
“hey,” you greet sweetly, forcing a casualness into your voice that you don’t feel.
she tilts her head, a little smirk forming. “hey, it’s been a while.”
“it has,” you reply, gripping the sodas just a little tighter.
before the conversation can turn into something messier, a guy steps up beside her. tall, charming, and really just a face that resembles all the guys that she would compliment while you two were dating. “this is yeonjun, my boyfriend.” she says, her words are slow and deliberate like shes shoved a nail into your skin and twisted it.
you smile tightly, nodding at him. “nice to meet you, i’m an old friend of hers.”
the air is heavy, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to falter. your hands are damp now, the condensation dripping from the cokes, and you’re wondering how to get out of this.
someone answers your prayers. a warm hand settles on your waist, grounding you instantly when the familiar warmth is recognized. then, soft lips press to your temple. your heart stutters in surprise and your brain malfunctions momentarily. you turn your head slightly, catching the familiar scent of minji’s floral perfume before you can even see her.
“hey, love,” love? that’s a new one, but you can’t say that you hate it—especially when it comes out so naturally from minji.
she reaches over to take one of the sodas from your hand and when you glance back over to your ex—it looks like someone just slapped her. “minji?”
minji smiles politely, her hand still resting at your waist, tugging at your waistband not so subtly. “yeah, nice to see you again. i was wondering what was taking y/n so long, i was getting thirsty.” she gives you a soft glance as she chuckles.
you manage to recover quickly, leaning into her touch. her presence fuels your words, “i was just catching up,” you explain, gesturing toward your ex. “oh, right—you remember minji, don’t you?” you pause for just the right amount of time before looking at her lovingly, adding, “she’s my girlfriend now.”
your ex blinks, surprise evident in her expression. “oh. wow. i didn’t know… you two were—”
“yeah,” you interrupt, turning toward minji with a grin you don’t have to fake. you can’t remember the last time you faked anything with her, really. “she’s amazing. i’m glad we’re together, she’s lovely.”
minji rolls her eyes before moving her hand up to your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. “you’re doing that thing again.”
“what?” you question.
“being so fond,” she twirls a piece of your hair with her finger, “you’re too sweet to me.”
“because you’re my girlfriend, idiot.” you giggle right after that, and minji follows. “i’m not lying when i say all those things.”
minji smiles at you, something mellow and real in her eyes. you can tell she knows exactly what you’re thinking. her hand moves over to cup your cheek briefly before she uses it to open her can of soda. she glances back up at the pair in front of you, your ex and yeonjun, giving them an intimidating glare—directly mainly to your ex.
“we should get back, jake was asking about you.”
“was he? i guess we should…” you say, glancing at your ex one last time, her expression unreadable now. “it was nice seeing you again.”
minji steers you away, her presence steady and comforting as she leads you with her hand returning to your waist. you don’t miss the way your ex’s gaze lingers on the two of you, but that doesn’t cross your mind anymore. not when minji’s here, leaving you flustered and happier than you’ve ever been.
—
the living room is filled with laughter and conversation when you and minji step back inside. your cheeks are still warm from the cold air outside—or maybe from the conversation you just had, both of you had been reminiscing on how harsh minjis nephew eunwoo can be towards minji. her laugh lingers in your mind, and for a moment you almost forget where you are.
“there you two are!” jake’s voice cuts through the noise, and everyone turns toward you and minji as he gestures for you to join the group. “you’re just in time!”
but then you notice it—the small branch of green hanging above your heads: the mistletoe.
jake grins, wide and mischievous as if this were part of his plan. “looks like you two are under the mistletoe~” jake points out as if he’s a child.
the room quiets, and suddenly, every pair of eyes is on you and minji. your shoulders stiffen and minji’s hand brushes against yours.
you glance at her, and she’s already looking at you, her face flushed but calm. you’d stare for a moment longer, maybe tease her for how cute she looks, but you’re in the spotlight now. there’s something steady in her eyes, like she’s silently saying, it’s okay.
someone whistles, and the teasing murmers start, but they fade into the background when minji tilts her head slightly toward you, her voice low and gentle. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
you shake your head, a small smile forming. “it’s fine,” you whisper back, “it’s just a kiss, right?”
she nods, her expression mirroring yours—reassuring, gentle, and maybe just a little nervous.
and then, without overthinking it, you both lean in. the kiss isn’t hurried or awkward—it’s soft and lingering, not too much but far from a quick peck. your hand brushes against her neck, and for a moment, everything kind of blurs except her.
when you pull back, the room erupts into cheers and coos of “aww,” but you barely hear them. your eyes are still locked on minji’s, her cheeks a shade of pink that you will definitely comment on later.
before you can process anything, her hand comes up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. she leans in again, this time pressing a brief, tender kiss to your lips. it’s a kiss that’s not influenced by the branch above you, a natural, instinctive kiss that makes your heart stop beating for a bit.
you both pull away, a silent realization settling between you. something’s changed. something you can’t quite name but can sense in her dilated pupils, slight bite of her lip, and bright smile.
“okay, okay, lovebirds. sorry about my cousin and her girlfriend,” jake jokes with a laugh, breaking the moment and taking all the attention off you two. “i just wanted to thank you all for coming.”
his words don’t process, in fact, you don’t really hear much of it because minji’s fingesr slip between yours, warm and steady. as jake continues talking, you glance down at your joined hands and then back at her.
you squeeze her hands lightly. the feeling is new, but it feels like it’s always been there. it feels good, it feels right.
…
once jake’s speech ends, you catch minji’s eye. there’s longing in her look, she’s asking a silent question and you have the answer. without a word, you grab her hand, weaving through the guests and slipping up the stairs unnoticed—they don’t know your cousin’s hosue like you do.
the hallway is dim, shadows playing on the walls as you pull her to a stop. before she can say anything, you turn, your hands finding her cheeks, and kiss her.
it’s different this time—no crowd and no stupid mistletoe hanging above. it’s just you two. you, and minji, with her lips are pressing against yours softly. she tastes sweet, warm, and familiar, and the way her hands rest under your jawline sends a shiver down your spine.
you pull her closer, hands moving down and pulling at the fabric of her shirt like you’re trying to stop yourself from losing your balance. her lips move against yours in harmony, in sync, and nothing else in the world matters except the two of you in that moment.
when you two finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily—from kissing so much and from utter shock. minji’s eyes search for yours in the darkness, her lips parting slightly as she catches her breath. “come on,” she murmurs, tugging your hand gently.
she pulls you into a nearby room, and you barely manage to glance around before realizing who’s room it is.
“minji,” you whisper, stifling a laugh, “this is jake’s room.”
“i could care less,” she cuts you off with another kiss. her lips are insistent, and her hands find your waist again, drawing you closer. “when i kiss you, i just— i can’t help but want to kiss you more and more and more and more.”
her confession is punctuated by kisses–soft, desperate, and consuming. you melt into her, your hands threading through her hair as you let her guide you toward the bed.
she’s nearly on top of you, her legs on either side of yours with he lips trailing to your jaw, then back to your lips.
“i want to be your real girlfriend,” she whispers nervously. “i want to kiss you like this, be with you, everything.”
you pause, cupping her face in your hands as you pull back just enough to meet her eyes. she looks at you, eyes lidded and vulnerable. your heart swells.
“i want to be your real girlfriend too,” you confess, using your thumb to stroke her cheekbone. “i think this is the best present i’ll ever get.”
she giggles before closing the distance again—instant, radiant, eager— and you can feel her smiling against your lips.
“should i put a bow on myself and lay under the tree?” she says when she pulls back, but just enough so your lips ghost each other. “to seal the deal.”
“you’re impossible.” you laugh, digging your fingers deeper into her scalp before pecking her quickly. “we should take this to the car… jake will kill me.”
“i think we can settle for a few more kisses.”
“is there a mistletoe constantly hovering over you?”
“no…” minji mutters, “but maybe we could steal the mistletoe and make it happen.”
you roll your eyes at her, but regardless you close the distance once more. and just when you think she can’t be more of an idiot—she proves you wrong.
“and you still owe me dinner, by the way.”
“whatever,” you mumble in adoration, “it’s a date.”
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thin line
synopsis: four times itoshi rin said he hated you, and the one time he finally said the truth.
pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 5k (insane) | warnings: enemies to (implied) lovers, cursing (rin being rin), rin is a total tsundere and emotionally constipated, banter, teasing, one (1) sexual implication towards the end, i use the word hate a lot, kinda proofread
notes: oh my GOD. you have no idea how hard it was for me to write (and finish!) this. writer's block has been kicking my ass really hard and honestly i don't even know if i like this but i swear to god if this flops i'll kms. (jk. maybe. or not.)
masterlist sae's 4+1
i.
itoshi rin was a hater.
he didn’t consider himself one, naturally. rin thought he was a pretty chill guy, but apparently, everyone who had some sort of interaction with the younger itoshi felt the same kind of vibe coming from him. at least, it was what his stupid teammates said after claiming rin was always hating on something — whether it was the line in the coffee shop being too long, every pass given to him by isagi or the librarian with “a stupid fish-face”.
on his defense, no one liked long lines, isagi had two left feet when it came to passing and the librarian was a fucking weirdo. even if he was a hater, he had a plausible reason for everything he hated.
“itoshi.”
that included you, of course.
rin was pretty convinced it was impossible not to hate you. every time he entered your shared biology class, a mere look at you was enough for his irk to grow even more. everything about you was just obnoxious.
you were loud. and, although unpleasant, that wouldn’t be much of a problem if you just weren’t unable to shut the fuck up and stop rambling excitedly at every friend you met. and you had many. you were some kind of weird social butterfly with infinite energy for social interactions — in a way, you reminded him of bachira.
but bachira was not always jumping at every chance to refute him with a know-it-all smirk. bachira wasn’t perpetually ready to throw witty remarks at his rudeness. and bachira definitely didn’t have a pretty gleam on his eyes every time he headbutted with rin.
in short, you were everything itoshi rin hated. and the worst part was that you knew. you knew how much your very existence annoyed him, and it seemed like you took as your life mission to make the next two years of his life a living hell.
“itoshi.” your voice reached his ears again. well, maybe if he just ignored you, you would… “itoshi!”
“what the fuck do you want?” he snapped, diverting his attention from the match playing on his phone to look at you. “i told you not to call me that.”
another thing he hated — to be called by his last name. it reminded him way too much of sae, and that was something rin didn’t want to do. but it wasn’t like he was going to tell you that, so he’d rather let you think he just didn’t want you to address him at all. which wasn’t a lie, either.
you gave him a puzzled look, tilting your head like an innocent puppy. a fake naivety, of course. “we’re not close enough for me to call you by your first name, though.”
“thank fuck.”
your eyes rolled at that. “language, itoshi.” he glared at you again, and you fixed your posture, putting your hands on the back pockets of your jeans. the malicious smile you gave sent chills down his spine.
“well, i just came to deliver you the news since you missed last period. there’s a project worth 75% of our grade to be delivered in two months, and guess what? we’re together!”
oh, hell no.
“you tell terrible jokes.”
“i’m serious, though. if you don’t believe me, just ask your friends,” you said, so absentmindedly that rin felt his blood pressure rising. he opened his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it. “and before you try, the teacher already said no one can work alone and that the pairs cannot be exchanged.”
his left eye twitched, and he was pretty sure all his muscles were tight and ready to combust. life just couldn’t give him a break, could it? it was like he was being punished — forced to work with you, of all people. what a fucking nightmare.
how the hell was he supposed to endure two months of constant interactions with your annoying sassiness and the pretty curve of your lips when you smirked? it might just drive him crazy.
“so, when can we start, partner?”
rin rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck on the back of his skull.
“i hate you.”
ii.
the soccer field was probably the only place rin felt at peace. the smell of grass and sweat was as familiar as his home, much like the round shape of the ball on his feet and the path to the goal. despite his rowdy teammates and their dumb antics, there wasn’t much that was able to distract him and break this peacefulness.
“itoshi!”
there was still something, though. or someone, for that matter.
the shock of seeing you in his “happy place” was so big rin nearly tripped on the ball, successfully letting bachira steal it from him. the snickers from reo and isagi made his skin boil with anger, but his harsh glare was directed at you — the fucking source of all his problems.
and no, he was not being dramatic.
“what are you doing here.”
it wasn’t really a question, more like a veiled threat; but you seemed oblivious to it, or simply didn’t care about his reaction. something in him even thought you liked getting on his nerves. he was sure of it when you smirked.
“the project, dummy. we need to start today if we want to get it done in time. it’s pretty long, hence why we have two months.”
“i can’t today,” was all he said.
“why?”
“because,” rin spat with venom on his tongue, “i have an important game next week.”
you stared at him in silence. rin would have thought about how the sun shining on your back framed you with a perfect halo and gave you a nearly angelic look if he wasn’t so busy controlling the heat on his face from your scrutiny. he hated when you did that. he hated you.
“we have to start today, itoshi. i’ll wait until you finish practicing so we can go to the library.”
he hated your stubbornness. he hated your voice, too — how it sounded like a siren’s melody, ready to trap him and bring him to the bottom of the ocean.
“fine. suit yourself.”
the young itoshi turned around and went back to the field, ignoring aryu’s pestering and shidou asking about who you were and if he could have your number. rin pondered if a yellow card was worth shutting up the insect, but eventually decided against it; he didn’t want ego to bench him, especially when they were so close to the tournament next week.
the rest of the game went pretty smoothly, although rin and his teammates could tell he had half of his focus on the sidelines, where you sat prettily at the stands with your laptop. a perpetual scowl was on his face throughout the rest of the match. you were so damn distracting it was annoying.
once the match was over, some of the boys went home, while others continued practicing, rin being one of them. he was expecting you to grow tired and give up, especially considering it was getting darker and colder, but you didn’t waver. your face was still present on the stands, haunting him even if he closed his eyes. you even had the audacity to smile when your gazes crossed.
he hated your smile. he did.
hours passed until every one of his teammates had gone home, and rin was the only one left in the field. deciding it was finally enough (and not admitting he was starting to worry for you), he stopped his moves, finishing up with a few stretches so that his muscles weren’t too sore. he stored the footballs on the cart and put away the cones, something that was already routine at that point since he was usually the last one to leave.
finally, rin walked towards you.
“i’m done,” he said as he approached you on the sideline of the field. his gym bag was right at your side, and he ignored the electricity that sparked his skin when it grazed yours.
your eyes averted from your laptop to look at him. “oh, hi! thought you’d take a little longer,” you retorted. “anyways, i’m done too.”
he stopped his movement. “what?”
“yeah, i finished the first topic. only fourteen more to go.” the giggle that flew out of your mouth reverberated through his body. rin watched as you stood up and stretched, looking away when your shirt rode up and a sliver of your stomach could be seen. you then proceeded to put your laptop away, and his brows furrowed.
“i don’t get it. i thought you said… you said it was too much stuff to do by yourself.” you nodded, not even looking at him. rin kind of wished you did. “and yet you did everything?”
“well, yes.”
his scowl only worsened. “what the fuck? why?”
you slung your bag through your shoulder, looking at him with those damn doe-eyes that always sparkled so much. it was annoying. why did they remind him of the stars? and why did rin wanted to watch the night sky on your face?
“you said you have an important game next week, so i figured it wouldn’t kill to do the first topic by myself,” you answered. “don’t get used to it, though! you’re gonna have to help on the next ones, partner.”
the young itoshi ignored the stupid nickname, his brain still trying to catch up to everything. something just wasn’t clicking…
“so why the hell did you wait for me to finish practice?”
you didn’t even falter.
“thought you could use the company.” you shrugged. and although your voice was nonchalant, you were smiling. and not your typical mischievous smirk — it was a sweet, sweet smile, dripped in honey and all things good in the world.
rin’s heart leaped on his chest. he could feel his cheeks becoming flushed, but he blamed it on the cold.
coming to think of it, it was really cold. and you sat there for hours… if he looked closely, he could see your frame shivering from the lack of proper clothing.
a little tsk came out of his mouth, and rin impulsively took off his jacket, throwing it on your face — ignoring the “hey!” you sent his way.
“what’s that for, itoshi?!”
“so that you don’t freeze to death, dumbass.”
rin had to admit your gaping expression was kind of cute. not that he would commit to memory or something… that would be lukewarm, and he was anything but lukewarm. especially when it came to you.
“don’t get any ideas, though,” he said before you could retort, turning around to follow the path to his dorm room, “i still hate you.”
iii.
things were calmer after the game passed. rin often found himself at the university library with you after his practice, leaving around nine or ten, and walking you to your dorm building simply because he didn’t want to be bothered in case something happened to you. not like he was worried for your safety or anything.
you still got on his nerves, but the project was going surprisingly well. rin learned you were very dedicated and meticulous, meaning you put in a lot of effort to focus and make everything as perfect as it could be. he wished he could say his focus was also as sharp as ever, but the scent of your coconut shampoo always lingered on the study booths and made his mind fuzzy.
it was tuesday night and you were both on your laptops doing research and writing on your paper, falling into the same little routine you established the past weeks. the library was nearly empty as usual — though you always sat at the furthest cabin because rin didn’t like to see, hear or speak to people — and the only sound in the ambience was the pitter patter of the rain.
everything seemed to be going fine, but things changed when the rain got heavier and became a strong thunderstorm that made the lights go out.
“fuck,” rin cursed under his breath, looking around to hear other people mumbling complaints and the librarian saying she would turn on the power generator, asking for calm and patience. he squeezed the bridge of his nose, annoyed, and turned to you. “hey, do you think—”
then he stopped.
the only source of light was the screen of your laptops and the occasional lightning striking on the dark sky, but rin could see you on the other side of the table as clear as day. and he felt his heart squeeze impossibly hard with the sight.
you were shaking like a leaf, hands squeezed tight and nails prickling your skin, and your eyes were widened and so, so scared. he had never seen you wear such an expression, always familiar with your confidant, cheery self, and he decided he didn’t like one bit.
“hey,” he whispered, trying to grasp your attention. however, your eyes were focused outside. “hey, look at me.”
slowly, your orbs met his, and rin felt his breath hitch. there were tears on your lash line threatening to fall, and panic began to rise on his throat; but he forced himself to stay calm for your sake.
“what’s wrong?”
your lips trembled, but nothing came out. he hated your voice, but found himself missing it. so he tried again.
“are you… afraid of the dark?”
his question was answered when the sound of another thunder reverberated again, making you visibly flinch. his gaze softened when a small hiccup left your lips.
“oh. it’s the thunder.”
you nodded, still unable to talk. rin could see you were forcing yourself to keep your sobs contained, as if the mere thought of crying in front of him was as dangerous as standing at gunpoint. like his words — venomous, harsh, cold words — could hurt you just as much as a bullet.
his stomach churned with that thought. he hated it.
so, as carefully as he could so as not to startle you, rin stood up from his seat and walked around the table until he reached the chair at your side, sitting on it. he felt you body tense with the proximity, more so when he slightly turned to stare at you, and felt the need to say something.
“it’s okay,” he murmured, so impossibly soft you could hardly believe it was itoshi rin saying those words to you.
it was even more unbelievable when he enveloped your body in a hug, bringing your head to his chest as if to shelter you from the thunder.
rin really hoped you couldn't hear the unrestrained beating of his heart. everything about that moment made him nearly combust; from the ever present smell of your shampoo when he rested his nose in your hair, the evident relaxation of your frame when he hugged you or the small arms that held his waist as if he was the only lifeline in the ocean.
you let your sobs and sniffles run free, burying yourself deeper in his embrace, and all rin could do was pat your hair and whisper soft reassurances on your ear.
it’s okay. you are safe. i won’t let it hurt you.
he didn’t know how long you both stayed in that position, but as he enjoyed the warmth of your body next to his, your sobs eventually died out along with the roaring sound of thunder. the rain became thinner and the lights finally came back, although neither of you made a move to separate.
the silence lingered for a moment before you broke it, “thank you.”
the male only hummed, trying to hide his disappointment when you slowly backed away. though his hand didn’t leave you, going from your hair to rest on your hip in some type of reassurance squeeze.
“i-i’m sorry, it’s just…”
“you don’t have to explain,” he interrupted. then, hesitantly added, “only if you want to.”
“it’s not something big or anything… this fear has just kind of been there. i think something happened to me when i was a kid and it was thundering, so every time it happens i just… freeze.” you shook your head. “it’s stupid.”
he frowned. “it’s not stupid if it makes you this terrified. it’s okay, we all have fears.”
you were yet to look him in the eye, seemingly embarrassed about your triggered phobia. “i cried on your shirt.”
“yeah.”
“it has tears stains.”
“yeah.”
you sighed. “i’m sorry.”
he squeezed your hip again. “don’t apologize.”
you finally raised your head to look at him, and rin could very much consider himself a lost man at that moment. your eyes were glistening from the remnant of tears, but that pretty gleam was still there, barging its way through any sadness and any fear to present itself with the shy smile you sent him.
even if it was still dark, he would be able to see it, because you shined. brightly, scorchingly and so, so mesmerizing, like some sort of classic painting worth millions of dollars. if rin had the choice, he wouldn’t want to look away.
“i think it’s enough for today,” you said, “do you mind if we continue tomorrow?”
“i don’t mind,” rin answered, although he secretly wished to bask in your warmth for a little longer. “i’ll take you to your dorm building. i brought an umbrella.”
because he knew you were a klutz and would most likely forget. not that he paid attention to you or something.
you smiled again, and rin had to use all of his might to let go of you and go back to his chair to pick up his stuff. silently, you both put away your things and left the study booth towards the exit, where the younger itoshi opened his umbrella and started to walk towards your destination. he felt his skin burning when you tangled your arm with his so that you were squeezed together under the shelter for the rain.
around ten minutes later, you finally arrived at your dorm building. and then, as the little minx you were, you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before running inside along with your goodbyes.
“thank you, rin!”
he stood there like a statue for what felt like an eternity, feeling his face impossibly hot. rin touched his cheek in mild disbelief, feeling butterflies erupting on his stomach without permission.
it was only then he realized you called him by his actual name, and a smile inevitably took over his features.
fuck.
itoshi rin hated you. but that day, he discovered that he hated seeing you cry even more.
iv.
he didn’t really know what the fuck he was doing there. rin was not the kind of guy who went to parties, much less fraternity ones; but somehow he ended up in one on a saturday night after a lot of convincing from his teammates. he claimed he only accepted so that isagi would shut up and stop pestering him, but the said boy insisted to say he only agreed after learning you would be there.
which was absurd, of course. a completely crazy, delusional and absurd thought. why would he want your obnoxious self to go and ruin the party? rin hated you.
right?
the music was loud and the people were even louder. there were dozens of bodies on the makeshift dance floor swaying to the beat, along with some people playing beer pong and small groups scattered around talking as best as they could. rin was part of the last type, although he was tuning out everything that bachira blabbed on his ear like a madman. his focus was solely on the entrance.
and then, you came in.
it was like a stupid romance movie — the way everything seemed to be in slow motion. from the way you walked, to the slight movement of your hair, to the blink of your curved eyelashes. and god, how much he hated that.
he hated the way your mere presence prickled his skin. how your voice soothed his lousy thoughts, how your smile lit up the room. he hated this urge inside of him to look for you every time he knew you'd be in the same vicinity, like you were some source of life that he couldn’t live without.
“are you okay, rin-chan?” bachira’s voice took him out of his thoughts. he blinked a few times.
“yeah, i’m fine.”
now, rin wasn’t a drinker; the red cup on his hand was merely for show. but he gulped some beer at that moment, as if trying to wake up from a hazy dream or get out of a trance. it made sense — he did think you were a siren of some sort.
there was no other reason for the spell you put on him.
the party went on, and he spent a few hours avoiding you like the plague and pretending he wasn’t stealing glances at every chance he got. truth is, he was always paying attention when you were swaying your hips on the dance floor like there was no tomorrow, glaring at every guy who thought about getting close while holding back his own desire to do the same.
it was only when you left to the backyard that his teammates finally decided to say something.
“you should talk to them” reo advised, eyebrows dancing in a weird, wiggly way. rin grimaced.
“what? why?”
the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, tired of the younger itoshi’s behavior.
“rin, man. you are clearly interested in them. and i’m pretty sure they’re interested in you, too,” isagi said slowly, as if rin was a child. “otherwise, they wouldn’t make the effort to pester you.”
rin could feel his face flushing. “i’m not—”
“don’t even try to deny it. it’s kind of obvious, really,” chigiri butted in, an exasperated countenance on his face. “just go, rin.”
he let out a tsk, chugging the rest of his drink and throwing the cup on the trash. “i’m going out just because i don’t want to keep listening to you idiots.”
“yeah, right,” nagi snickered, and the others followed, watching rin turn his back and move towards the backyard, where he would inevitably find you.
the chilly air hit his skin the moment he stepped out, and rin kind of thanked the relief it gave to his hot cheeks. quickly looking around, it was easy to spot your lonely frame leaning on the wall, staring at the stars as if they weren’t in your eyes. he walked to you like his feet had their own will, and once he got close enough, leaned the side of his body on the wall, facing you.
“you’re cold.”
not even a hello, how are you to start. great conversationalist, itoshi rin.
you turned your head to look at him, smiling when recognition took over your features. “hey, itoshi! didn’t think i’d meet you here!”
the giggle that went past your lips was the only reason he didn’t scowl when you didn’t call him rin.
“parties are not really my thing, but my friends convinced me to come.” you nodded, understanding. he blinked a couple of times, and said again, “you’re cold.”
you slightly flushed. “it’s just a bit chilly, but it’s not a big deal…”
but rin was already shrugging off his jacket, moving to be right in front of you as if to shield you from the wind. he handed the piece of clothing to you. “here.”
“oh… thank you,” you answered, bashful, taking the jacket and putting it on.
last time he lent you one, he didn’t stay to see how you looked like. but at that moment, rin was sure there was nothing prettier than the sight of you in his clothes. he swallowed a nervous lump from his throat.
“so… why are you out here by yourself?”
“needed some air. i danced a lot and it was kind of stuffy in there.” you shrugged. then, fiddling with your fingers, you look straight into his eyes. “and maybe… maybe i was hoping someone would follow.”
someone. you had your eyes on someone.
rin didn’t know what was worse: the stinging pain on his heart or the bitter taste left on his tongue. what he did know was that both felt like poison, one that would spread through his veins and consume him whole. and that he shouldn’t feel like this. because he hated you, after all.
he must have made a terrible grimace, because you threw your hands in the air in exasperation.
“for fucks sake.”
and then your lips were on his.
it was just a fleeting moment — something way too quick and definitely not enough to sate the dormant hunger inside of him. in the blink of an eye, you were already back in your place, staring at him with doe-eyes and a hundred doubts written in them.
rin freezed for a whole full minute with his mouth agape, until finally lunging forward to kiss you again. his right arm wrapped possessively around your waist to glue your bodies together, while his left hand found a place in your jaw, cradling your face as if you were some precious jewel. his lips were hungry on yours, and you gasped with the intensity, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth.
kissing you was exhilarating, like scoring the perfect goal or winning a championship. adrenaline ran high on his veins and his head was a little airy. and rin swore he never felt so alive.
when you finally parted, you were both panting, chest heaving with every breath. rin rested his forehead against yours, directing both of his hands to your middle as if to look for grounding.
“you still hate me, itoshi?” you asked in a whisper, mouth inches away from his but still not close enough. that dangerous gleam was still settled in your eyes, and he could swear you were the perfect definition of sinful every time you batted your eyelashes at him.
“call me rin.”
“okay,” you giggled lightly. “you still hate me, rin?”
he could feel his blood pulsing on his ears. “yeah,” he answered, way too breathless for an athlete of his caliber.
and then, holding your waist tighter, “kiss me again.”
v.
“we should get coffee.”
rin’s words cut the silence as you were exiting the library yet again. you looked up to see his face staring straight ahead, expression unreadable as always, but the light redness on the tip of his ears told you all you needed to know.
you decided to be a tease, as always. “hm… i don’t know, should we? you sure you want to spend even more time with someone you hate?”
he scowled like usual, but this time, there was a small pout on his lips. you thought he looked the cutest when he was like that, all shy and trying to maintain his stoic act.
he grumbled something under his breath.
“what was that?”
“i said,” he sneered, “i don’t hate you, stupid.”
you arched your brow. “you don’t?”
“do you think i would have kissed you if i did?” the smirk you give him is both charming and infuriating. rin would have said he hated it, but he was done pretending.
“i don’t know, itoshi. you are kind of emotionally constipated.”
“shut up,” rin quipped. then, he snaked your waist with his right arm as you walked side by side, pulling you closer. “and didn’t i tell you to call me rin?”
there was just mischief in your eyes when you answered, “yeah, but i like to get on your nerves.”
the male scoffed, still in disbelief with your antics.
“you’re a damn brat. i think you just want me to teach you my name tonight.”
rin could practically feel the heat on your face, and he smirked when he saw how red you were. god, you were so cute.
“at least take me to dinner first before we hate-fuck,” you still managed to joke, despite the slight shakiness in your voice. he rolled his eyes, and pulled you to a stop by the arm.
you both stood in the middle of campus, feeling the gentle caress of the breeze and listening to the birds chirping. it was a peaceful day, with the sun high up in the baby blue sky. rin thought there was no better time than at that moment.
his hand traced your arm until it reached your own, and he squeezed your fingers in reassurance.
“i don’t hate you,” he said again. “i just hate the way i don’t hate you. not even close. not even a little bit. not even at all.”
he watched your eyes light up and smile brighter than the sun, and he almost laughed at the disbelief in your voice.
“did you just quote ‘ten things i hate about you’?”
it was his time to flush. a small shrug was all rin answered with — he didn’t want you to know he specifically chose this sentence because that was your favorite movie. not like it mattered when you were gleaming at him and making his heart leap on his chest.
“well, then,” you squeezed his hand back, “let’s get coffee, rin.”
© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.
#bllk imagines#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock#blue lock fanfiction#blue lock drabbles#blue lock fluff#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#itoshi rin#itoshi rin x reader#itoshi rin x you#itoshi rin x y/n#rin itoshi#rin itoshi x y/n#rin itoshi x you#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin fluff#bllk#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x gender neutral reader#bllk rin#blue lock rin#rin x reader
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REC LIST STEREK PART II
So I was going to make a well-structured rec list, but the more I try to organize it, the less I can find a proper order. So I decided to do it from the most recently read fic to the oldest one in my AO3 history.
__________________________________________
Get You The Moon
BY: AClosedFicIsNeverRead
words: 180.785
Derek looked up in surprise to note that they were taking a private jet. Dread settled into his gut like a stone. “It has a cage, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly, and noted the subtle changes in his family members’ posture. “Is it for me?” Cora gave him a pleading look and nodded. “Is it because of what you’re going to tell me?” he asked, voice like gravel. Another nod confirmed it. Stiles. Oh, GOD. It had to be Stiles. Derek would not lose control over anyone else in Beacon Hills and they damned well knew it.
- OR - The one where Derek has been gone for 6 months building a new life, finds out that Stiles is being assaulted by Theo, so he comes back to Beacon Hills to kick some serious ass and rescue the loudmouthed human who stole his heart. (You will need ALL the tissues, but it will have a happy ending by the time all is said and done!) Title inspired by song: ‘Get You The Moon’ by Kina ft. Snow
(This fic is and always will be one of my favorites, it has a really special place in my heart. It has sensitive topics, so I recommend you read the tags, but it's worth going through all the angst to get to the happy ending, because it DOES have a happy ending.)
True Love's Kiss, Attempted Murder
by: cowboilikeme
Words: 120.040
Beacon Hills has never been the most normal of towns, but recently things have been happening that are getting harder and harder to explain. And it's becoming more difficult to keep the supernatural a secret when something newer, darker and scarier comes to town in the shape of a teenage girl. But she is only the beginning to their problems. And what she brings with her is the worst this town has seen in a while. “What’s so bad about getting a ride in this?” Derek sounded like he was smiling, but as beautiful and unbelievable as that sounded, Stiles still refused to look at the man, “It’s a good car.” “Overcompensating?” Stiles ridiculed, knowing perfectly well that there was no way Derek wasn’t packing something impressive. “I think we both know that’s not true,” Derek was smirking when Stiles finally turned to him, if only in shock by the werewolf’s statement. “I think we both know there is no way I could know that,” Stiles winced at how bitter he sounded, but once it was out, there was no point in trying to suck it back up.
(So this is the most recent fic I read, and I loved it, I really loved it too much, and it makes me really sad that it's not very well known or spread, because the characterization that the author puts to the characters is really realistic, it's literally like reading and imagining a different season of teen wolf, it really impressed me too much. I highly recommend this fic, it's very good, and it may have some other unrelated things but they are not very relevant things, it doesn't affect the fic at all. For real, run to read it! and comment what you think! Give the author a lot of love so that he/she continues writing more works of art in this fandom.)
Lead You Home Again
by;GotTheSilver
Words:49,962
The first time Derek meets Stiles, the kid’s brown eyes are wide, and he’s staring up at him with a mischievous grin as he tugs at the arm of Derek’s first ever Batman figure like he’s trying to separate it from Batman’s body. An alternate take on Teen Wolf, wherein Stiles and Derek are childhood friends, and things unfold from there.
(I don't know about you, but I have a soft spot for fanfics where Derek and Stiles are childhood friends and grow up together, it's like really exciting to read, because this has a certain degree of canon, because it is known that Derek and Stiles knew each other as children but for some reason they have forgotten it? or decided to avoid it? I don't know, but I do know that you will love this fic, it is tooth rotting fluff, Okay, yes there is anguish, but afterwards everything is so fluff)
Fixing What Has Been Broken
by: JustJim & Useless_girl
Words: 102,205
Derek Hale is dead. That’s something Stiles Stilinski refuses to believe even for a second once he gets the call from his dad. He heads back pissed, because he’s convinced that he can fix that mess with or without the help of his old pack, because it is Beacon Hills we’re talking about. A town where no one stays dead for long. But maybe there’s more to fix along the way…
Or our reply to the Teen Wolf Movie's mess.
(we all know how awful THAT movie was, so our beautiful authors use their talents to fix that terrible movie and give us this wonderful fanfic that is everything it should be, we have mpreg (yes beautiful, and beautiful mpreg that explains Eli's precious existence) we have a little bit of feral derek (I know, we all love when derek gets a little bit feral) and we have a damn happy ending which is the best of all.)
Lock All The Doors Behind You
by:entanglednow
Words: 25,960
He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.
(Yes, sorry, I really do have a guilty pleasure for feral derek, it's just that it's the moment where Derek allows himself to be honest with himself and his feelings, without so many complex thoughts that prevent him from acting on his instincts. And yes, his instincts always tell him that Stiles is his safe place, his anchor, he likes his smell and basically follows him everywhere because he likes him.)
don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you)
by: crazyassmurdererwall
Words: 30,926
Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously. (He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)
(This one may seem funny (which it is) but it also has some sad backstories, it's actually a light and very entertaining read, you guys are going to love it, you'll probably get frustrated (like me) that Stiles doesn't tell Derek what's wrong. I really recommend it, those scenes with Talia are painful and beautiful.)
It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real
by: waterella
words: 32,741
“At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.” “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.” “Hey!” Scott insisted. “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.
(This is very funny, and just read it it's good, My favorite parts are where Derek keeps making excuses and Stiles only accepts them because they both want to keep kissing.)
The Price
by: theroguesgambit
Words: 18,452
Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.
(you guys have no idea how good this fanfic is, please please do yourself a favor and go read it right now, it's painful to read but i promise it has a happy ending for derek and stiles.)
Getting Better
by: The BadassIsIn
Words: 205,156
The season 4 rewrite absolutely no one asked for where Stiles actually deals with his trauma from the nogitsune instead of being a-ok with it all and added Sterek.
(So this is quite therapeutic to read, seeing how both boys deal with their traumas and get better together, it's really nice to read, but of course there is angst, but it has a happy ending, so don't worry, I would never recommend a fic that didn't have a happy ending for Der and Stiles. So feel free to go read it and cry a little, get emotional and feel like a band-aid is put on your hearts as you see how our boys finally deal with their traumas.)
i fell into the moon
by: Iscar123
Words: 234,122
Laura Hale is arrested hours after returning to Beacon Hills. Derek Hale returns to town to bring his sister back home and together they are drawn into the mystery of a rogue wolf on their family land. They also can't seem to stop bumping into the Sheriff's son, Stiles. Laura is determined to make Stiles her new best friend and Derek just wants everyone to survive so he can get the hell out of the town that took everything from him. Stiles just wants everyone to be happy.
(If you like fics where Laura appears, I really recommend this one, because Laura and Stiles become an amazing duo against Derek, it's very funny, but I recommend you read the one shot from where this fic is inspired first, it's very good too. Derek using his charm with Stiles is my favorite thing ever.)
can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?
by: whiry
Words: 120,369
here's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.
(If you like alternative universe- High School fics like I do, then you have to read this one, plus the entire Hale family is alive, and the werewolves are revealed, and Derek and Stiles have this awkward crush on each other that slowly develops. You HAVE to read this, it's spectacular. And cora is cora haha)
Molten
by: sugareey & wolfspurr
Words: 27,896
"Stiles, is that you?" He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted. "Derek?!"
(I like fics where Derek and Stiles are put in a cave or cage, and they only have each other to get out of that scary situation, but Derek's wolf always ends up very attached to Stiles. This is kind of like that.)
Spellbinding Mishap
by: Wasterella
Words: 45,855
Stiles winced, rubbing the back of his neck, and looked over at Derek again. “So... you know how you told me not to touch anything?” Derek stared at him for a second, not seeming to understand, and then Stiles knew the moment it clicked because his entire face set so concretely it might as well have been carved out of stone. “What?” Scott asked, looking between them, confused. “What’s going on? I don’t understand. What happened?” “Yeah,” Stiles said slowly. “So the thing is, I uh, touched something. In the Witch’s house. And Derek came in and grabbed it from me. So he also touched it. And now it uh, it seems like whenever the two of us are a certain distance apart, we start getting sick. Or like, double over in pain. Or, you know, start dying.”
(Derek and Stiles are cursed and consequently can't be away from each other, so if you want to have a laugh, you can read this fic.)
Not So Boring
by: wasterella
Words: 69,062
“It was an accident!” Stiles continued, trying desperately to explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding and that the Demon clearly had to cut him some slack here.
It didn’t seem like he would be getting his wish, because the Demon’s annoyance melted into frustrated incredulity and he said dryly, “You summoned me by accident.”
“Yes!” Stiles insisted.
“How is that even possible? How do you accidentally summon a Demon?”
“You know, by accident!” Stiles argued.
“So you accidentally drew the summoning sigil into the floor, and you accidentally had an offering available, and you accidentally stood in the circle while accidentally reading the summoning spell?” the Demon asked dryly.
Okay, well when it was said like that, Stiles could understand the skepticism.
(And I close this rec list with another fic of our beloved westerella, and this is one where derek is a demon and stiles accidentally summons him. And it's really funny honestly, you have to read it, it's great!)
After months and months I finally bring you these recommendations, and I promise to bring you more, but I won't commit to saying that it will be soon.
Please tell me if you've already read any of the fics I put on the list, and tell me what you think of these recommendations, is there anything in particular that you would like me to recommend? Please let me know.
And if you have any to recommend to me, I would really appreciate it, tell me which is your favorite fic and I will read it.
#sterek#derek hale#sterek fandom#stiles stilinski#stiles#derek x stiles#stiles x derek#sterek fic#teen wolf#teen wolf stiles#rec list#fanfic rec#fic rec#you definitely have to read this fic it's painful but worth it#long reads#reading#teen wolf movie#teenwolf#sterek is eternal#stiles/derek#sterek parents#sterek ao3#we loves ao3 writers#long live ao3 writers#ao3feed#ao3#ao3 fanfic#ao3 link#derek/stiles#eli hale stilinski
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no one can tell me scott's solution to an attitude problem isn't an orgasm!!! worst mood ever and he's already backing you against wtv surface and lulling you into it with his voice - 🍓
okay but this with babydaddy!scott.
your one free day, and you’ve had one million things to do — most of them going wrong in some way, costing you money or just plain stressing you out. it’s times like this you dwell on not being in a relationship with scott, living together. yes he works alot, but he’d still be able to help you out — and at this point you would have taken anything. oh well, you’d made that choice.
evening falls, and speak of the devil — the door bell is ringing.
scott stands alone at the door, looking casual if not tired himself — and revved up from the day, you don’t even give him a chance to speak.
“wheres the baby? scott where is my baby— i told you not to leave her in the car so she better not be—” you go to shove past him, body on high alert and he effortlessly grabs you by the shoulders, rolling his eyes as he walks you back inside.
“shes with my mom, remember? i mean i did literally tell you.” he’s sassy with his response, letting go of you to close the door behind him with his foot and rubbing a stressed hand over his face. you relax instantly — despite everything, scott’s mother was good. you could tell she’d been waiting for a baby to come around, a toss up between scott and his younger siblings all similar in age. she was alot gentler in nature — it was his father that scott was more alike. strict, business-minded, sarcastic.
“right…” you sigh, wiping your hands down your clothes. “so what do you want? why are you here?” it comes out snappier than intended yet again, and scott blinks. it wasn’t often he was thrown off guard, usually able to take whatever attitude you throw at him and double it — but this wasn’t like you. you were soft, sweet, polite. he takes the moment to eye you, stress in your body language, shoulders tense, clothes and hair a little disheveled. you were still beautiful, but you didn’t look like you were doing too good.
“asked me last week to fix that bathroom cabinet. i’m here now. ring any bells?” he shakes his head and you fiddle with your fingers, breathing all heavy. you didn’t even look like you heard what he just said, just blinking as he watches the cogs in your brain turn, mind in a million places.
“uh…” you’re distracted, trying to shake yourself out of it and he sighs.
“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or do i have to pull it out of you?” he deadpans and you swallow, resolve crumbling a little as your posture shrinks.
“i’m fine. just tired. baby was up all n—”
“you’re stressed. you keep clenching up your fists, your jaws all tight, could probably crack a walnut between your ass cheeks right now. why didn’t you ask me to help?” he folds his arms, accusatory — brows raised and expectant. your fists only clench tighter and your knee wobbles like you want to stomp your foot petulantly.
“i don’t need it.” your voice cracks a little.
“you need a break.” he tells you off, louder than you, sternly and you pout, eyes on his shoes. “when was the last time you touched yourself?” his voice quietened once more, and he asks like it was a regular question — like he was asking when the last time you ate was.
“wh— scott?”
“tell me.”
“i dont — when i was pregnant? maybe? i don’t see how that’s —”
scott sets his bag down, before walking at you, gently backing you up until your ass hits the little table that held the lamp beside the couch. “so too long?” he shrugs, mouth turned downwards as he starts to work at tugging up the sundress you just tugged on this morning.
“scott!” you whine, and you try to sound defiant — but it’s the whinyness in your tone that tells him everything. that lilting, high pitched mewl that he missed hearing — telling him just how badly you needed to cum.
“dont wanna hear it. you know you could have just called. i would have fixed that attitude while the babies down for thirty.” he shakes his head, rubbing his fingers familiarly over your comfy, mesh, baby pink panties— arousal already beginning to smear through the gusset just from his stern-talking-to at the door. “yeah. there you go.” you clutch his biceps for support, table wobbling under your ass as you melt— a whimpery sigh deflating from your chest.
that big hand of his slots itself inside the material, rough finger tips working you over and pushing inside after spreading your arousal and you groan, your big, tall babydaddy practically holding all your weight without breaking a sweat as he presses his lips together in concentration, trying to find that spot. “mmph— scotty!” it slips out, the affectionate rendition of his name you’d always call him when you were together. his heart skips a little and cock chubs against his thigh.
“feeling better already, aren’t you? atta girl.”
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ADORABLY, YOURS.
pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader, feat. choi seungcheol tropes: love triangle, friends to lovers (jeonghan x you), strangers to friends to fwb to friends (seungcheol x you), kinda slowburn, one-sided love (or is it?), pining, slight age gap (2-3 years) etc. genres: fluff, angst, jealousy, sexual content (no explicit smut content but references to it) with vulgar language, cafe!au, non-idol!au, college!au. word count: 12k (I am sorry about this.) what to expect: You’ve liked Jeonghan since you met him through your best friend, Wonwoo. But little by little every day you’re convinced he knows you like him and his non-action can only mean your feelings are not mutual. Then, you run into Seungcheol, a childhood best friend of Jeonghan’s, who instantly develops a soft spot for you. The resulting love triangle that wreaks havoc on your emotions might as well end being the answer to your problems. Bittersweet like coffee but decisive as a caffeine rush, this is the story of how you beat all odds to be with Yoon Jeonghan. warnings slash author’s note: I warn you beforehand: the logistics of this love triangle are a bit morally ambiguous, i.e. I can’t tell if I used Seungcheol purely as a plot-point or not. I probably did. But in my defense, I think all love triangles are inherently a little bit evil and cruel. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this admittedly self-indulgent mammoth of a fic. I had a headache the whole three days I was writing it. I love Jeonghan and I promise there will be a make-up fic for Seungcheol, because I’m biased but not corrupt. As always, this isn't proofread but I will get to that in the next few days! All right, that’s all. Love you, friends and foes!
It’s one of those days. You can’t help yawn after yawn and no amount of caffeine is washing the throbbing in your head away. To make things worse, you’ve managed to sleep with a spine posture worse than even your worst days which means your back hurts from standing at the register all day. But the day is far from over as a glance at the clock informs you; your cafe shift has a good three hours remaining.
And whenever you’re hoping to take a break on the uncomfortable chair propped in a corner near the register, the door to the cafe will jingle with the presence of a new customer. At least your co-worker for the day, Joshua, is also a friend so you can talk his ear off about the various ways in which you might escape the prison of existence.
Just as you’re going into detail about how you wouldn’t mind dissipating into air, the glass door swings open and in comes a tall man clad in a suit, the heels of his dress shoes clanking against the floor of the coffee shop. You reign in the surprised look that threatens to overtake your face – because goddamn, the man is gorgeous – as you greet him, “Good morning! Welcome to Moon Coffee!”
“Good afternoon to you, too,” the man corrects you with a dimpled smile. You wince at your mistake and nod, “Right, sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” You force a smile that you hope is friendly enough onto your face, gesturing to the large menu boards above you, “Please, take your time.”
As the man busies his eyes with the plentiful options displayed on the boards, you busy yourself with questioning what a fancy ass man like him was doing at the campus coffee shop. His hair was long, brown ends curling around his neck and as he ran a hand through it, deep in thought, you could essentially smell how rich he was.
“The hazelnut mocha sounds like it’s good but also really sweet,” he comments, looking at you for a second opinion.
“Right, it’s one of our best-sellers! And it is on the sweeter side because of the chocolate in it, but you could balance it out with a double-shot?” you suggest and then, “Otherwise, our classic mochas are not as sweet.”
The man nods with a slight smile, “Hmm, I like the sound of the first option. I’ll have that, please.”
“Is that an iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot for you?” you ask with a smile. When he nods, you punch in his order, “Can I get a name for the drink?”
“Seungcheol.”
“All right, thank you very much. That’ll take just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait.” He nods as he walks to one of the tables next to the window.
Joshua’s already getting to work with Seungcheol’s drink and you take a moment to rest your back against the counter, throwing a glance or two at the new (and gorgeous) face in town. But thankfully for this rich stranger, today is the day you don’t have the energy to go down a rabbit hole trying to find an explanation for his presence. Instead you wave him a good day as he leaves with a satisfied smile on his face and an iced mocha in his hand.
Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.
A week later has you eating your words. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Thursday afternoons are the busiest times of your shift at Moon Coffee. Most students were either rushing to down caffeine to finish some daunting assignment due at the end of the week or otherwise, others would be early in celebrating the fast-approaching weekend. The first kind you can deal with: they’re easy to relate to and they don’t really care if your customer service is the bare minimum from how tired you are.
But the second kind? You wish you could be granted with some kind of powers that would take away any more weekends from the rest of their lives. If the way they strolled in grinning and took their time with the menu didn’t have you fuming, their inane but obnoxious questions about your life would have you at the edge of your temper every week. You were only thankful you didn’t have to work the Friday crowds or you’d actually be declared a public threat.
But today, unfortunately for you, Jeonghan’s decided to make a visit to the cafe and if the fact that he’s not even a student anymore wasn’t enough, he was celebrating his birthday week. Which meant he was even worse than in exhibiting his usual infuriating customer behavior. But annoying customer or not, Jeonghan was also the guy you’ve harbored feelings for since two years ago now.
So when he strolls up to the counter with Seungcheol, the polite rich man from last week, by his side, you have more than one reason to stare at them dumbfounded.
“Oh, hey, it’s you!” Seungcheol starts, eyes trailing to the name on your tag, “Y/N!”
Jeonghan shoots you a confused look and then elbows Seunghceol, “Don’t even pretend that you know her. I totally caught you looking at her name tag. Have a little shame, Cheol.”
You clear your throat, “Um, good afternoon and welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” You punctuate the question with a smile that you hope screams please order fast and get out of here!
But Jeonghan evidently has long missed the memo when he pokes Seungcheol again, “You know sometimes I come here just so I can see Y/N smiling. She never smiles off the clock. It’s truly devastating.”
Seungcheol looks amused, “Is that so? I mean, fair enough. With a smile like that, you ought to be paid to show it.”
You cough into your palm, caught off-guard but quick to conceal the shy grin that’s crept up your face. You pray that the heat in your neck doesn’t climb up to show on your face. “Will you be ordering the same as last week? Iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot?”
Seungcheol’s face lights up a little at your recognition but Jeonghan’s quickly butting in with an affronted expression, “Oh, so you recognize this man who’s been here once, but not your close friend of a long long time? Do you even know how much money I’ve spent on the seasonal lattes here?”
You sport a sly smile, “Right, thank you for enjoying our seasonal menu of beverages. We hope you continue to love the upcoming drinks. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions here!” You hand him a brand-new index card and gesture at a drop-box next to your monitor.
Seungcheol cackles at the defeated look on Jeonghan’s face and grins as he says, “You know what, I think I’ll get the same mocha again, Y/N. It did wonders for my mood.” You find yourself grinning almost immediately, tapping in his order with a hum.
“And for you?”
“...”
You know Jeonghan’s scheming something but you can’t afford to let him play out whatever sick mind games he’s planned out at your workplace so you’re quick to appease him, “If I might, I suggest you go for the salted caramel brownie latte. It’s perfect for this weather and it tastes suspiciously like birthday cake.”
Jeonghan can’t help a smile at your words, rolling his eyes a little, “Fine. That does sound tempting. I’ll have one of those, but only if I get a personalized note from you wishing me a very very happy birthday.”
You contain a scoff, “Of course.” You nod, “Thankfully for the line behind you, I already have your names down. Please step aside while we prepare your drinks. Thank you.”
–
“She’s hilarious,” chuckles Seungcheol, bumping shoulders with Jeonghan as they settle into his car. “Didn’t think I would witness Yoon Jeonghan’s downfall in a random college cafe.”
Jeonghan scoffs, “I think you’re too happy about this. Plus, my downfall started a long time ago when I stopped cheating in board games.” He takes a sip of his latte, “Fuck, this does taste like cake. What the fuck?”
Despite his words, Jeonghan smiles when he sees the note you promised him:
jeonghan – happy birthday week, u weird old man! please invite me to ur birthday party so i can give u the best gift of ur life and maybe also stick ur head in cake :) lots of love, y/n.
“She’s in her senior year, you said?”
Jeonghan looks up with a nod, “Yeah, I met her through Wonwoo, back when we shared a class in college. And then when I graduated and settled here, I’d invite them to get-togethers because I know how miserable the nightlife on this campus is.”
“Wow, look at you, such an admirable role model,” Seungcheol jokes, “And Wonwoo? Was he the glasses guy who you FaceTimed this morning? He seemed… cool, I guess.”
Jeonghan shrugs with a shoulder, “He’s a piece of work, alright. But that explains why he and Y/N are inseparable. Anyway, you’ll meet the rest of the crew later tonight. Thursday night is board game night.”
‘Board Game Night’ was a very, very loose term for the weekly gathering at Jeonghan’s place – it was a mix of Jeonghan’s friends, namely Dokyeom and Woozi, from work doing karaoke, his tired college friends (aka your friend group) lounging around on their phones, and maybe a group of two to three actually playing board games.
Tonight is slightly different, though, because the alcohol that Jeonghan otherwise wisely guards most weeks has made its presence known to everyone, the fancy bar table propped in a corner of his living room finally finding meaning.
You make it to his place, around thirty minutes past the usual starting time, exhausted from another soul-sucking shift at your job. You’d planned to sit on Jeonghan’s couch and binge-watch some mindless TV show but you’re thrown off when a reddened Seungcheol answers the door.
“Y/N! You’re late,” he exclaims. His speech is normal, thankfully but as you step in to take in the rest of the people, you look back at Seungcheol, eyes doubtful.
“I did not know my night was going to involve babysitting a bunch of drunk old men,” you mutter, not quite meaning for Seungcheol to catch your words. But he does and chuckles, hand at your elbow as he steers you to the bar.
“C’mon, you don’t have to babysit anyone. I’ve got it under control. Now, let me pour you a drink. What can I get for you?”
You watch the tall man with a skeptical smile, a little flustered because he’s standing close enough that you can feel him hard bicep against you and a little bit amused because well, this was new. It’d been a while since you’d been flustered around a man other than Yoon Jeonghan.
“Oh, so you’re making me a drink now?” you ask, “How did you even convince Jeonghan to let out the alcohol? You must have some special powers over him for this to happen.”
Before Seungcheol can supply a reason, Jeonghan appears behind the bar counter, smirking, “Ha! You think I’d let this coward dictate my actions? Nope, this was completely my decision. I couldn’t let the week of my birthday be dry! That’d be such a shame.”
“You’re funny, Han,” you mumble, turning to him with a quirked brow, “How many drinks are you down?”
He waves your concern away, “Shut up. I’m older than you, I don’t need you fussing after me. Now, get yourself a drink before I get mad.”
You raise your hands in surrender, “Sure, wouldn’t want the birthday boy to be made at me.”
“So what will it be? Do you want a beer? Or maybe a good old rum and coke?” Seungcheol offers, eyes already searching for the ingredients.
You narrow your eyes at him, “I think I’ll have a Scotch and Soda, please.”
A few hours later finds you sprawled on Jeonghan’s couch, nevermind the alcohol in your system and the ruckus your friends were creating. You had engaged with their antics for an hour: playing stupid drinking games (only to get drunker by the minute because you suck at games) and retiring early.
Jun starts to complain when you announce that you’re giving up, mainly because he’d be the next target of the crowd, but Jeonghan firmly leads you to the couch.
“You okay?” he asks you, warm fingers steadying you by the neck. Your world spins as he becomes the focus, ironically enough. You nod as you welcome the soft couch underneath your unsteady body, “Hmm. I’m just bummed out that you didn’t help me out by cheating.”
He laughs and the sound unsettles you with its vibrations. “I told you I don’t cheat anymore, silly. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d have lost even if I did pull out some master cheating moves.” You gasp, weakly pushing him away, “Whatever, man, I don’t need your attitude.”
If Jeonghan’s started to genuinely get worried about you, it only gets worse when you cough into your elbow, groaning as you pull away. His hands find your neck again. You hate his touch because you lean into it so naturally, your eyes following him just like he wants. You hate the warm feeling you feel when he feels your forehead with a concerned frown. You hate how you’re practically burning at his touch because he’s a breath away and your fingers twitch in your lap from wanting to touch his hair.
But soft like the strands that tickle your ear, Jeonghan whispers, “God, you’re burning up. Maybe you did drink too much. Fuck, let me bring you some water and then, let’s get you to sleep.”
You protest his lamely sensible plan of action but he isn’t listening as he departs, leaving you feeling cold. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate, trying to keep an eye on Jeonghan when another tall figure encroaches your field of vision.
“Y/N?” Seungcheol calls out and for a moment, you’re unresponsive, eyes fixated on something beyond him but then you perk up in recognition, pouting as you beckon him to the couch.
“You–!” you point at him with a squint, head working hard to recall his name, “Um, um, Cheol?”
Seungcheol smiles at the nickname, taking a seat next to you, leaving some space but extending an arm behind you because of how you’re dangerously swinging. “Right, that is me. How are you feeling? Not too nauseous I hope?”
You shake your head, “”M fine. But tell that to Han because that weasel’s trying to make me sober up and sleep.” You breathe out a little angrily and then when the world swims around you, you lean your head against the back of the couch– that is currently occupied by Seuncheol’s arm.
He jumps a little at the unexpected contact but steadies himself when he sees your closed eyes, your skin hot against his forearm. “Now, why would he do that? You literally just got drunk,” he tells you, trying to keep you engaged in the conversation, lest you should pass out.
“Right?” you exclaim, opening your eyes, head still against his arm, “It’s like he’s never had fun in his life. For how much he likes to tease people, he sure is a killjoy.”
“Ha, I’m surprised you know him so well, honestly. People usually just take him at face value and think he’s a devilish troublemaker. But god knows how mature Jeonghan is. It makes me mad sometimes.”
You giggle and Seungcheol’s stomach swims at how he can feel the sweet sound in his veins, like literally. “You get me, dude. How long have you known him?”
“Um, like, nearly ten years now? I don’t know, I kinda lost count at some point.”
“Wow, that’s a long time. I’ve known him for like two years?” you hum. “Yeah, he told me.”
You quirk a brow at that, lifting your head up in amusement. “You two been talking about me? What did he say? That I’m Wonwoo’s evil twin?”
“Hmm, yeah, something along the lines of that.”
Jeonghan’s back by your side, suddenly, his strong grip straightening you up and holding up a glass of water. His expression is stoic as hell for a board game night and you don’t know if you feel scolded or cared for. It’s always hard to tell with him.
You stare at him blankly, not drinking the water like he wants you to. Instead you turn to Seungcheol, “I don’t want to.”
Your plea is unreasonable, you and Seungcheol both know, and he can practically feel Jeonghan’s glare when you ask Seungcheol, “Cheol, can you tell him I’m not dying? I don’t need to be babied.”
“Yeah, you do,” Jeonghan says, touching the cold glass against your skin. You jump a little with a soft unfair! and Seungcheol sighs, “Hannie, let her be. I don’t think she wants to go to sleep yet.”
“Thank you! At least someone has ears ‘round here!”
Jeonghan shoots his best friend an unreadable look, still firm, “Well, she needs to drink water either way. Unless someone wants the worst hangover of their life the next morning.” This time, his unoccupied hand finds the back of your head, settling into the stray strands of your hair there. “Please, just drink this.”
You find yourself giving in, lips opening up to the glass and you swallow a few gulps of water, the cold liquid soothing your insides. Before you know it, the glass is empty. He holds it up in front of you, “See? That felt nice, didn’t it?”
There it is, again. The playful glint in his eye and the sly tone of his voice. You ignore the burning tips of your ears and give him a half-nod, throwing yourself against the couch again with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, old man! What would I do without you?”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he stands up, “Ever so grateful, Y/N.”
“Y’know, Cheol and I were in the middle of a very mind-opening discussion about you.”
“Me?” his interest is piqued and he glances at Seungcheol, who he jostles lightly, “What’ve you been, shit-talking me?”
Seungcheol laughs as he throws the man off, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, if you want to go back to your game, I have a lot of anecdotes to share with Y/N. It’s our bonding time.”
And bond, you do. You spend the rest of the night talking to Seungcheol on Jeonghan’s couch, the owner of the place long forgotten as you go on to talk about everything else: college experiences, Seungcheol’s job (“So how rich are you exactly?” you grill him), and life interests.
“I can’t believe you like college so much! I hated it a lot back in my time.”
You snort, “You sound really old for someone who graduated two years ago. But I mean, each to their own. I prefer the comfort of the bubble here, you know. No real responsibility most of the time and you’re allowed to make some mistakes now and then. The real world? That’s like hell. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like an adequate adult ever. Like, tax fraud is real, you know? And I never know which law I’m going to break? Don’t even get me started about the living situation.”
Seungcheol laughs throughout your troubled rant, “No, I get it. But don’t you feel excited about the independence you get to have? The freedom? And plus, if you get lucky with your job, working is actually very fulfilling.”
“Ugh,” you throw your head against the back of the couch again, “I don’t think I’ll ever feel fulfilled. Like ever. I feel too immature to be anything but a college student.”
He frowns on hearing that, confused because he’d never imagined of spending a whole night talking his heart out to a college student. But it happened because it was you, with your quick-witted responses and thoughtful questions. So, he’s fast to counter, “That’s not true–”
But his defense is cut short when Wonwoo approaches you, tapping at your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, you wanna head back?” You look up and are shocked to find the living room nearly emptied of its earlier occupants. When did everyone leave? “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room. It’s getting late,” Wonwoo continues.
“Oh, damn, I didn’t even realize,” Seungcheol mutters, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “You guys sure you want to head back this late? You could just crash here. I would offer to drive but I drank.”
Wonwoo’s eyes trail to you, leaving the decision up to you. You mull it over, “I don’t know if Han’s gonna want a bunch of wasted kids at his place?”
As if you’d summoned him, Jeonghan appears beside Seungcheol with a yawn, “What’s this about me? Why’re you guys still up? Come on, let me show you to the empty rooms and please go to sleep before I have to use force.”
Wonwoo laughs, “He didn’t even leave us a choice,” and you watch as Jeonghan turns around, expecting you to follow him.
“Jeon Wonwoo,” you turn to your best friend, “Please tell me you don’t still try to suffocate other people in their sleep?”
The boy contains a grin, “I don’t know. It depends on how annoying the person I’m with is.”
“You’re sleeping on the floor, asshole.”
–
Seungcheol has a problem.
He likes to think of himself as a reasonable adult, with the ability to make logical choices and admitting to his flaws here and there. But had he been reasonable enough, he wouldn’t be this hung up over someone he met twice over the course of two weeks. It’s ridiculous: the way his heartbeat’s racing when you tread down to breakfast the morning after the board game night turned bonding time.
He’s smiling his way through an excited “good morning!” before he can collect himself. You look tired, albeit a little bit lesser than usual, and your hair’s down in something of a mess. Seungcheol vaguely recognizes the faded gray tee you’re wearing, probably a donation of Jeonghan’s. “Morning,” you mumble to the breakfast table, everyone present now that you’re here.
Wonwoo snickers, “You look like shit, dude.” You glare at him as you’re reaching out for a fork, “Thanks, Wonwoo, I see that you’re as sweet as ever.”
Jeonghan lightly slaps Wonwoo’s arm, “Be nice to her. Who knows what a hungover Y/N might do?”
You turn to Jeonghan, finally eating the piece of watermelon that you’d been reaching for, “I’m flattered you’re concerned but I’ll have you know I’m not hungover.”
“That’s impressive,” Seungcheol chimes in and you smile at him, “See, I can’t believe this man I met last week understands me better than my best friend and my other friend.”
“Your other friend? That’s what I am to you???” Jeonghan gasps, hand clutching his chest dramatically and Seungcheol laughs louder than he ought to, but he can barely help it, he’s all giddy. All it took was a half-compliment from you.
So yeah, easy to say, Seungcheol has a problem and it has something to do with the way you lean into him when you ask him to pass a slice of toast.
Luckily for Seungcheol, you also have a problem, and it occurs when you declare you need to head back, hoping that they’d let you go alone but Jeonghan’s standing up instantly with a nod. You have a problem with the way he’s unbothered with his behavior, easily saying, “I’ll walk you,” as if your best friend of years wasn’t sitting right there.
You look to Wonwoo, hoping he’d feel the heat of your expression but he simply stretches his limbs out with a groan, “Think I’ll go take a nap before I leave.”
“Don’t you have a class at 12?” you nudge him subtly, trying to ignore Jeonghan as he stands at the table, fingers tapping at the chair that he’s behind.
“Eh, I’m ahead of the syllabus in the class and attendance is a joke.”
You sigh in defeat and meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he lifts his lips into a smile.
And the smile only leaves his lips once you’ve stepped out, clad in your clothes from last night again, groaning when the morning sunlight hits your eyes. “Ugh is right,” he mumbles beside you as he starts walking.
You catch up to him, hands stuffed down your pockets, and he asks, “You have class?”
“Not really. But I do have an upcoming paper I want to finish over the weekend so I don’t perish next week.”
Jeonghan chuckles as he glances at you, “Wow, you’re still this hard-working, huh? I thought your lifestyle would’ve worn you out by now.”
“You’re one to talk about detrimental lifestyles, Han,” you scoff, “Just because you hang out with us once a week doesn’t mean we don’t know you’re overworking yourself for the rest of it.”
He’s silent for a beat and then he exhales, “Huh. I don’t know. Feels like I have the other kids fooled. It’s always you, with your smart little head and truth bombs.”
You laugh, hitting his side with your shoulder, “I’m serious, Han. Take it slow, won’t you? You’re going to end up burning yourself out to death by the time you’re 30. And then whos’ going to host board game nights?”
Jeonghan laughs and he turns to look at you, walking pace slowing down as he trains his eyes on you. You raise your brows in confusion, a slight smile playing on your lips as you try to guess what he’s thinking this time.
“You and Cheol have been getting along really well, huh?”
You’re thrown off guard, not having imagined this to be his next words. You shrug. “Yeah, he’s really easy to talk to, especially given his… I don’t know, social status?”
“Social status?”
You cough in embarrassment over your words. What were you saying? “Don’t know. It’s just nice to meet someone whose hopes and dreams aren’t being crushed by student debt.”
Jeonghan’s silent again and now it’s your turn to frown because you’re wondering if you said the wrong thing. God, does he think you’re creepy for liking his childhood friend? Fucking hell.
“I’m glad,” he says but you can sense a strain in his voice, “I was worried he’d get bored to death when he came to visit me.”
“Ah, well. How long is he around?”
“He took a month off, I think? But he’s got it easy with his flexible hours, so really, it’s up to him when to leave.”
You nod a little, “Cool.” You exhale in relief, a little bit reassured now that Jeonghan was back to talking like his usual self. You’ve finally reached the steps to your dorm by the time the conversation fades away and he waves at you, “Better be on time tomorrow for my party. And don’t forget to bring the best gift of my life.”
You groan when he quotes your note on his coffee from a day ago, shrugging as you turn around to run up to your room and melt into your pillow. But you’ve made it to two steps up when he calls out for you again. You swerve around to face him with a questioning glance.
“Y/N, remember you can come to this old man if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you, always.”
??????????
–
Okay, let’s rewind a little.
You’ve known Jeonghan for two years now, enough time to fall for him. You argue it was inevitable because all your life, you’d only been disappointed in your love interests, who would either ghost you in the talking stage itself or break up a few months into the relationship. One time it was because you were too busy with your studies and the third and final time because well, you were apparently too aloof. Not loving enough.
Which is why when Jeonghan came into the picture, you found yourself changing ever so slightly. Not to say you weren’t still a little bit wary of people and took your time opening up, but you met a lot of friends through him and he taught you that trust and attention goes a long way in relationships. If only you could apply this newfound knowledge to new relationships.
You’d tried: Wonwoo had set you up with a friend from class, Mingyu, and while you’d been able to sit through the first date, by the end of the night, it was clear that both of you were more interested in sex. Which was fine. But then there was the guy who was a regular at your cafe who had given you his number and you’d ended up wondering why you were with him in the bathroom, staring at a text from Jeonghan.
So you were down pretty bad for him. And as Wonwoo had voiced multiple times before, the next move to make was to actually tell the man that you’d been suffering in your feelings for him. But every time the topic came around, you had only one answer prepared: he already knows. Or so you’re convinced.
You had good reason to think so. Once, the group of you had been playing an online game that involved picking red flags for other people’s ideal types and when it was time for others to pick some for you, all hell had broken loose. “I bet she likes bad guys who are emotionally unavailable,” Jun had said, quick to drag the flag that said emotional constipation on it. You had defended yourself quickly, “UH? No thanks, men with no emotional intelligence are a hard pass for me. I don’t want to feed into some idiot’s Oedipus complex just because I’m the mom friend.”
“The mom friend?” Wonwoo had questioned, “Please, Y/N, if anything, you’re the dead friend with a severe case of RBF. Jeonghan’s the mom friend.”
Jeonghan’s shrug had been followed by a hysterical Joshua going, “Wouldn’t that mean Y/N’s ideal type is Jeonghan? I mean, it makes a lot of sense, he’s mature and emotionally intelligent.”
You’d choked over your next words, cheeks burning, “No, that’s stupid. Don’t be weird.”
Yeah, very weak defense.
When Wonwoo brought up the fact that you’d refuted Joshua’s claims and that probably led Jeonghan to believe you weren’t into him, you simply told him to remind himself of what happened next. Dokyeom had laughed, “But you definitely go for older men? I can’t imagine any guy in college being too smart like that.”
You’d agreed in the end, his logic being pretty solid. You had also noticed the way Jeonghan excused himself to the kitchen with a lame excuse about bringing more snacks when there was an array of unopened chips still lying around.
“Okay, so that’s one example, from like two months ago,” Wonwoo argues as you roll around in bed to avoid his glare, “Do you really think he remembers that incident so well?”
“Two months ago was not that long ago. And it wasn’t just this once. I’m a mess around Jeonghan.”
“You’re a mess period,” Wonwoo casually declares and when you sit up with an unhinged jaw, he laughs, “No offense.”
“Whatever. I hate you. And I hate Jeonghan. I should just skip his birthday party or I’m just gonna make things worse for myself.”
“Right. And what about the Lego set you spent half your life savings on?”
You pause, heart skipping a beat when you remember the gift sitting on your desk, wrapped securely and the purchase of which you could only justify with the words: Yoon Jeonghan.
“God, I must be insane. Why did I even buy that for him? He’s gonna think I’m genuinely weird. Does he even want gifts? He’s turning 25 for god’s sake.”
Wonwoo doesn’t respond so you can hear yourself and eventually, you do. Jeonghan himself had told you to be on time to his party with the gift alongside. You’re going to cry.
“You really think I should tell him?” you ask quietly.
Your best friend nods eagerly, patting your arm through the mess of your bedsheets, “Please. It’s high time. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Weird promise to make, but fine. I’ll do it.”
–
The weight of your promise settles into your veins when you’ve arrived at Jeonghan’s place, self-consciously straightening out non-existent wrinkles in your dress when he comes over to greet you and Wonwoo. It doesn’t leave when he grins at you, wider than usual, and it definitely only gets worse when he accepts your gift with a low whisper that he’ll be sure to open yours first.
You’re thankful for Seungcheol when he shows up next to you, dimples out as he compliments you in your dress and you return it with a shy smile. Half because you need a distraction and more because Seungcheol’s presence is calming, you follow him to the bar.
“How’s your night going so far?”
“It could be better,” you mumble, eyes searching for Jeonghan and settling when he doesn’t seem to be anywhere close, “A little bit nervous.”
“Nervous?” he asks you, sliding you a drink and you smile as you take a sip: Scotch and Soda.
“Hmm, it’s nothing honestly. A lot of work piling up as we speak,” you joke. Seungcheol’s frown melts away, “Ah, of course. Senior year must be crazy.”
The night picks it pace up thereon, with your nerves finding some peace in the buzz from alcohol and your cheeks only hurting the longer you talk to Seungcheol.There’s some dancing of course, here and there, but you find yourself avoiding Jeonghan actively, retracting from the floor whenever he’s close.
It helps that Seungcheol stays close so that you have an excuse to appear occupied and somewhere along in the night, you tell the man with a smile, “You’re really charming, you know, Cheol?”
He breaks out into that giggle of his, “You think so? I haven’t even pulled out all the stops yet?”
“Really?” you find yourself stepping closer, encouraged by how quickly his hands are at your waist, “What haven’t you done yet?”
A breathy hum leaves his lips at your provoking and you’re close enough to brush lips against Seungcheol when suddenly, you’re being pulled away. For a moment, you let out an annoyed groan, certain that the iron hold on your bicep is Wonwoo being stubborn again. So when you tilt your head and catch sight of Jeonghan’s black hair falling into his eyes, a glare in place, all words leave your system.
You’re aware he’s dragging you away and also that Seungcheol’s following, reaching for your hand with words leaving his mouth, but you can’t make anything out. The blood’s in your ears and your heart is in your throat. You can feel Jeonghan saying something at Seungcheol, who glances at you in doubt, and leaves.
By the time you've calmed down, you find yourself in Jeonghan’s room, door half closed.
“Jeonghan?” you question a little weakly as he finally lets go of your arm and sits on the bed, his head in his hands. Is he okay? you wonder, standing helplessly near the door. You call out his name again, “Han? Are you okay?”
You step closer to him but stop when he looks up, startled by the lack of humor in his expression. “What were you doing back there?”
“Um, talking to Cheol.”
“Talking?”
“Are you annoyed at me, right now? Or jealous? I can’t tell.”
Jeonghan goes silent again, gaze dropping to his feet. You’re feeling annoyed by the minute.
“You’re acting like an idiot, Y/N. You don’t know Seungcheol. And you’re drunk.”
There it was: that strict tone of his, that always left you feeling conflicted and hurt. Today you actually tell him about it, “I’m not a kid, Jeonghan, I know what I’m doing.”
He looks up at you when you say that, eyes wide. “I never said that. I’m just saying that you should be more careful.”
“I am being careful,” you retort, a hostile edge to your voice, “I don’t know why you do this.”
“I thought you liked me.”
The words stun you into silence and your ears ring as you freeze. Your eyes don’t leave Jeonghan’s form though, watching him, waiting for him to disappear into nothingness as if this was just a dream. How you wish it was.
But Jeonghan’s on his feet when he notices the horrified look on his face and it’s only when he starts to come closer that you reach for the door.
“No, Y/N, please let’s talk about it–” he grabs hold of you and you feel your vision go blurry with tears, your back hitting the wall when Jeonghan shuts the door behind you.
“I knew it,” you mumble out through tears, “You knew about my feelings?”
Jeonghan’s eyes find yours in the dim lighting of his bedroom and you shiver when his hand tightens around your wrist, “I’ve known for a while. But then you went around flirting with Cheol like it was nobody’s business and I…” he trails off, “I was jealous. And confused.”
You force yourself to breathe out, heart going wild in your chest because of course, Jeonghan’s not addressing the elephant in the room. “Well, I was going to confess to you today and get it out of the way. But there’s no need anymore, I guess?” You cringe at the way you can hear the quiver in your own voice, “Just let me go now?”
“Why?” he asks, “You haven’t even asked me if I like you back?”
You scoff, “God, Jeonghan, you make it sound like we’re in high school or something, all this ‘liking’ talk.” You try to sound stable, only to be contradicted by the tears that leave your eyes, “And I figured you didn’t return my feelings. Or you would’ve done something about it.”
There’s a pause then. A shift. Jeonghan’s grip on you loosens ever so lightly and you fear you’ve understood him too well. For once, you wish you weren’t right.
“You’re right,” Jeonghan breathes out as if on cue, but his grip is still unyielding to your dismay, “Well, I thought I didn’t like you. I mean, you’re really pretty and funny and being around doesn’t tire me out like it does with others, but… I just liked you as a friend.”
Your heart’s shriveling up at his words with uncertainty because he might be talking about your love for him being one-sided but it is also in the past tense… right?
“What are you trying to say, Jeonghan?”
He flinches, “Um, I’m sorry. I just– I’m so confused about my feelings, right now. God, I thought I was more mature than this.”
You can’t help the disdainful laugh that leaves your lips as you push him away, brushing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Look, Jeonghan, I’m sorry I don’t have the time to sit down and help you untangle your feelings… about me. It really hurts to hear you go on about this, honestly. I think I’m just going to leave. Happy birthday, I hope you like your gift.”
–
The night outside is much more welcoming to you now, your shoulders more relaxed than ever now that your stupid crush on Jeonghan’s out in the open for him. You hadn’t expected it to go down like this but well, at least you were right about him already knowing, you know?
Lighter than before, the drinks you’d chugged before to gather courage catch up to you in the moment when you nearly run into a pole on the street. You would have run into it if Seungcheol hadn’t swerved you out the way with a, “Look out!”
“Fuck,” you mumble when you’re steady on your feet, Seungcheol’s hand firm around yours, “Sorry. I was in my head.”
“I know you were but you gotta watch where you’re going, kid,” he scolds, “I don’t want to have to carry your unconscious body to your room.”
You roll your eyes, “What is it with everyone and calling me a kid tonight? So much for keeping up a track record for being reliable and responsible.”
“It’s not that you’re not those things, Y/N,” Seungcheol says, hand still on yours reassuringly, “It’s just that sometimes you’re… dense. And maybe even something of an idiot.”
“Ah! Excuse me!” you protest, “I am not an idiot. Say that to my grades.”
“An idiot as in someone who doesn’t see what’s right in front of them.”
That shuts you for good, then, and you stop walking with a sigh. “I don’t even know about that, anymore.”
Seungcheol watches as you slow down, tears behind your eyes and his heart hurts for you, thanks to his problem. When he’d found you storming out of Jeonghan’s room with fists wiping your tears away, he’d wrapped an arm around you immediately, listening as you quietly told him you needed to leave. He’d offered to walk you home and you’d watched him for a moment before nodding.
“Why are you doing this, Cheol? Shouldn’t you be back there, comforting Jeonghan?”
“See, there it is. The idiot side of you.”
You go silent again, looking down at the hand that was clutched in his a few moments ago.
“...you like me?”
“Bingo. Plus, I don’t think Jeonghan wants to hear from me tonight. Not after I almost kissed you in front of him.”
You let out a surprised sound, hand flying to your mouth when you recall the near-kiss, ears turning impossibly pink under the streetlights. “Fuck, I forgot that happened. I’m sorry? Or you’re welcome?”
“Nah, I can’t thank you till we actually seal the deal,” Seungcheol teases, stepping closer to you and dramatically ducking his head as if going in for a kiss. You push his shoulder away, “Fuck you, Seungcheol.”
“I mean, sure, if you want to!”
“Ugh!” you start walking with a pout on your face, “I hate the guts of the men in this place!”
“That’s not what your face said thirty minutes ago at the bar!”
“Go away, Cheol, or I’m reporting you to the campus authorities.”
“Aww, you called me Cheol even when we’re fighting. Aren’t you the sweetest?”
–
When Monday rolls around, you think you’ve got a good hold on your head this time, especially after a few grueling hours at your shift at the cafe. That is until you spot Jeonghan walking in, hair tied back in a half-ponytail and hands crossed across his white cardigan. The sight of him sends you into a frenzy and you debate your options as being between: ducking behind the counter and switching positions with Joshua, or otherwise, manning up and facing the aftermath of your actions.
You glance at Joshua’s back, his hands busy cleaning the espresso equipment and before you have a minute to ask him to switch, Jeonghan’s at the counter (where’s a line of customers when you need it?), calling you out. “Hey, Y/N, do you think we could talk for a minute?”
You look at him blankly, not expecting him to take the direct route after everything. But you malfunction a little and cut his advances off, “Welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” you ask loudly and then add in a softer voice, “Conversation with me is not on the menu.”
“Hm?” Jeonghan looks devastated at your cold response but his eyes search the menu board frantically anyway, “Uh, I guess I could get just an iced americano, then, please?”
You note that down with a half-smile, and almost go on to ask for a name for the order but decide against it, not wanting to stretch your pettiness limit for the day. “Alright, thank you for your order! Please feel free to take a seat while you wait.”
You relax when he nods with a hesitant smile and takes a seat, close to the window but close enough to the counter to hear his name being called out. You feel the pit in your stomach burn a little at how deflated his shoulders are and you wonder if you ought to drop the act; you’d been into the man for two years now. Right?
But before you can pursue this heart-wrenching line of thought, you’re distracted by the sound of the door opening and– great, it’s Seungcheol. By the surprised look he shoots Jeonghan’s sat figure, they hadn’t planned this… ambush, but you reign in your usual cordiality anyway as Seungcheol approaches you.
“Hey there, morning. How’ve you been?”
What did you have to do to have one customer who came in here for coffee?
“Good afternoon,” you correct him, pleased at the reversal of your first meeting with Seungcheol, who chuckles a little. “Welcome, what can we get you today?”
He pauses, casting a glance to Jeonghan over his shoulder, whose attention is on this interaction, legs crossed and brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, didn’t know he was in here. I just wanted to check up on you.”
“What are you apologizing for?” The question slips before you can remember to be professional and also, a little bit quieter because almost certain that Jeonghan’s heard you by the way he averts his eyes. “Um, I mean, sorry. I can recommend you a drink for the day or do you want to get your usual?”
Seungcheol mulls it over, “Hm, I’m fine with anything you choose for me.”
You pause before punching in the order for a hazelnut mocha, without a double-shot this time. He can deal with the sweetness for a day, you reckon. You glance at Joshua who’s still cleaning up before getting started on the orders because well, it’s a slow day. Or it’s supposed to be.
As you thank Seungcheol for his order and he’s about to step aside to wait, you add in a quick, “And next time, if you want to check up on me, do it when I’m not working.” He does nothing to hide the grin of acknowledgment that takes over his face, a sight that only darkens the storm known as Yoon Jeonghan brewing in the cafe.
You walk over to Joshua, “Dude! Hurry up, we have customers waiting.”
He turns to you slowly, wiping his hands off ever so slowly, even the smile on his face slow. “Don’t worry, it’s just Jeonghan. We know these guys. We can take our time.”
You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if Jeonghan put him up to this act, but don’t question it because even that would be admitting defeat. “Whatever. I’ll make the drinks if you’re going to be annoying. Where’s the syrup for the mocha again?”
Joshua slaps the hand that you’re using to reach for the syrup with a firm, “Uh-uh! Hands off, young lady. That hazelnut mocha is all mine to make. You can work on the iced americano if you really want to help out.”
You groan, throwing your hands up, “So you were slowing things down on purpose, you little bitch.”
“Hello? Please be mindful of the language you use around here. I can report you–”
“Yes, yes, of course, I will just shut up and make that americano so I don’t have to listen to your voice again.”
A few minutes later, you’re scribbling Jeonghan’s name onto the cup, proud with the quick work you’ve made of the drink and also thankful nobody was coming in right now. “Han–” you stop yourself just as the nickname slips your tongue, flinching when you remember you’re supposed to be acting stuck up right now.
You turn, hoping that Jeonghan hadn’t heard you but nevermind that because he’s at your side, quicker than he ought to be really (any other scenario, he would be declaring all kinds of knee problems), that sly grin plastered on his face.
“Hi there,” he greets you, “Called for me, did you?”
“...I did. An iced americano for Jeonghan.” You try hard to make your sentences brief but Jeonghan’s chuckling as he takes the drink from you– using both his hands so that you’re brushing against his. Classic middle school boy behavior.
If anything, this ordeal was making you question if the man was as mature as you’d believed. Either way, he thanks you with a smile and leaves promptly, leaving a very affronted Seungcheol in his wake. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna wait for me!” he calls out after Jeonghan, who doesn’t respond as he slides out.
“A hazelnut mocha for Seung…Cheol?”
You glare at Joshua who frowns at the name as that was the first he’d heard of it, and the guy just shrugs as he puts the drink down. “Sorry about that. Joshua’s feeling rebellious this afternoon,” you tell a frowny Seungcheol (you are a minute away from admitting how cute he is when he’s upset), “Anyway, here’s your drink, Seungcheol. Have a good day!”
“Cheol!” you call out when you spot the brown head of hair outside the cafe when your shift ends. He’d texted you a while after he’d walked off with his drink in hand, pouting because you insisted on calling him Seungcheol.
meet me after your shift? his text reads.
do u even know when my shift ends dude
no and thats why im asking u. when does your shift end?
… u are insufferable.
insufferable enough to fall 4 u i guess
when are u going to stop holding your feelings for me over my head?
when you do something about them.
meet me at 6 outside the cafe.
Yeah, so you wouldn’t say you’re being your wisest self right now. To begin with, you should probably seek out Jeonghan and find closure of some sort. But something tells you to wait on him, wait till he’s ready to seek you out (no, coming up to you during your work shift did not count). Instead, you choose to pursue the… spark that you have with Seungcheol, his feelings for you aside. The night after Jeonghan’s party he’d made it clear that he didn’t really want anything serious, just to get to know you more while you were still around.
A little fooling around never hurt anyone, right?
So when Seungcheol whines out, “Oh, so I’m back to being Cheol now, huh?” you finally let out the laugh that you’d held back at work at his antics.
“Nobody ever told me you were such a pouty baby,” you tell him, eyes shameless trained on his pink lips.
“I don’t pout for anyone, baby,” Seungcheol shoots back, hand on your back as he leads you somewhere. You look at him in question. “What? We’re getting dinner.”
“I was not aware,” you reply, “But all right. Let’s do it.”
Dinner is comfortable. Which is more than you ask for on a date these days.
“Your dates have really been that bad, huh?” Seungcheol asks you. You shake your head, fork scraping some tiramisu onto it, “You can’t even imagine it, Cheol, it’s hell out there. I’m lucky if the guy pays for the dinner so I don’t have to work an extra shift to make up for it.”
He laughs and you savor the sight, because hanging out with this often hadn’t meant you had become indifferent to his looks. If anything, it was the other way around.
“Thanks for dinner,” you tell him later as he sneaks his hand into yours. You allow yourself to feel guilty for indulging him like this but then he squeezes your hand, “Anything for you, m’lady.”
Later that night, you invite him to your room. “It’s not much,” you add to the invitation, “But you know, I do happen to have some wine in my fridge that Wonwoo forgot to pick up. And my bed’s pretty cozy to watch movies in.”
Seungcheol is breathless by the time you’re in your room, not only because of the trek up the stairs but also the fact that you’d held his hand in yours the whole way up. “Wow, it sure is cold in here,” he comments as you turn the lights. It is the textbook college room, albeit a little bigger since you’re in a single.
You cough, “Um, sorry about that. Let me turn on the heater. And you can sit on my bed…” you pause when you remember the mess you’d left on your mattress this morning, in a hurry to make it to your shift but nevertheless, insistent on putting together a fit.
You sweep up the pile of discarded clothes from your bed and onto an already burdened chair, making a show out of it. You dust your hands off with a smile at Seungcheol who’s been watching with a hand on his hip. “Change your mind about me yet?” you question, teasingly.
He rolls his eyes as he walks closer to you, effectively bumping you onto your bed, the new angle forcing you to look up at him. He kneels in front of you, his smile turning loving as he takes your face into his hands. “Not a chance,” and then he leans in until his warm lips are on yours, the heater whirring irrelevant now that heat’s rushing up to your temples instantly.
You taste him and then pull away, “Mhm. Not so fast, you sly little man. I promised you wine and a movie in my bed. And I,” you say as you crouch in front of your fridge, “am a woman of my word.” You shake the cold bottle of red wine at him and he grins.
An hour later, you’re curled around Seungcheol, glasses of wine long consumed and movie long forgotten in favor of cuddling. You stare at him and then when he smiles shyly, you finger one of his dimples, “Hey. You sure you’re not serious about me? Because I’m…” you hate the way you trail off, the very thought of Jeonghan derailing any sense of coherence you’ve ever had.
“I know,” Seungcheol’s hand comes to your wrist, “I knew I didn’t stand a chance against Jeonghan since I saw you guys fight at the cafe that day. You look at him like he has all the answers.”
“That’s ridiculous,” you brush off, not completely refuting him. “But if you knew, why’d you stick around and… I don’t know, flirt with me?”
Seungcheol laughs into your neck, “Call it a bad habit of mine.” His hands play with your hair now, brushing it away from your face, “I see a pretty girl and I have to charm her.”
You drop your head into his chest with a groan, “Stop! You sound so creepy. Like a predator.”
“Hey!” he protests, his chuckles vibrating through you, “You’re the one who called me charming the other day!”
“Hmm. I guess I did.”
His hands slowly pry you away from his chest and to his face, lips pressing against yours. You smile a little and then open up for him, shifting until you’re situated on top of him. You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the kiss and – “Shit, you’re a good kisser.” The man underneath you moves you closer with a pleased smirk, voice smug when his lips trail down your neck, “That’s not the only thing I’m good at.”
–
“Sex with older men really is different, huh?”
You gasp at Wonwoo’s vulgar words, slapping his arm mercilessly making him jump away from you. “Dude! Mind keeping it down? We’re in the library, not your mom’s house.”
“Ha! Jokes on you, I wouldn’t be making dirty jokes in my mom’s house because Jeonghan is my mom away from home and he would really kick my ass if he heard me talk about you and Seungchel fucking–”
Another slap on the arm and Wonwoo shuts up, groaning in pain. You grimace when you notice a few heads turning your way at the commotion, and bow in apology. When they’re looking away, you glower at Wonwoo, “Seriously, man, what are you up to? Drop the horny teenager act for once so we can focus on the problem at hand.”
“Judging from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing that you’re not talking about the problem of calculus in front of us, but rather, the problem of… life?”
You stare at Wonwoo blankly, “I’m so glad you find this entertaining.” As you’re about to continue giving him a piece of your mind, your phone buzzes, cutting you off much to Wonwoo’s relief, who sneaks a look over your shoulder anyway.
cheol: rate last night on a scale of ‘okay’ to ‘let's meet up again tonight’?
You scoff at the audacity and Wonwoo’s already clinging onto this new piece of evidence. “Oh, so what was that about this being a one-time thing? Next thing I know you’re moving in with him when you graduate.”
You slam your phone face down, “Listen, I know you think this is a joke but it’s not. I’m not going to sleep with Cheol again because that’s obviously the right thing to do. But as for Jeonghan, well, it’s been radio silence from him all week.”
“And since when have you let Jeonghan take the lead on your relationship with him? You know he’s a working man so I’m not surprised he’s not texting you at noon on a Wednesday.”
You glare at Wonwoo, “Seungcheol is also very much a working man? I don’t see your point. And also, I don’t know when this became a competition between the two?”
“Since you confessed to one and then slept with the other?”
You exhale heavily, unable to shoot him down because he was at least a little bit correct. Instead you heave your head into your arms. “Maybe I should just fake my death and move away.”
“You’ll give up your dreams of graduation over a stupid love triangle, consisting purely of men?”
“Shit. You’re right. That’s not happening,” you look up, “Jeon Wonwoo, what would I do if you weren’t by my side bringing me to my senses? You’re the best friend I ever had.”
“Actually, your use of ‘friend’ is very offensive to me,” he complains, fisting his palm dramatically, “I consider myself one of the girls. Or even better, your guardian. Refer to me as Your Highness exclusively or I will not listen.”
You stand up with a screech of your chair, “Okay, that was the last of your reasonable thinking. I’m going to go to my shift and work until I can no longer think or pine.”
“Great plan, young one!”
“Touch grass while I’m gone and you might have hope yet.”
–
“Look, I really don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”
Seungcheol laughs, eyes searching your face for signs of humor. You flash him a grimace of seriousness and doom. He deflates. “I saw this coming. Should’ve known you would only ever ask me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner to break up with me.”
You flick his forehead, “Break up? Don’t call it that. It gives people the wrong idea.”
“Interesting, Y/N L/N admits to caring about whether or not people get the wrong idea about us. Very interesting,” he comments, not at all sneaky with the way his arm snakes around you, “Anyway, you want me to pay for dinner and what, drag my sorry ass back to Jeonghan’s place?”
You stiffen at the mention of Jeonghan and then sigh, the following conversation almost inevitable given your current situation. “So speaking of Jeonghan, has he been talking?”
“Um, yeah, he sure has been opening his mouth and saying words.”
“Fuck you, I meant as in, about me? Has he said anything?”
“Not in specific. Although he did inquire if I had slept over at your place two nights ago and when I said yes, he threw a slice of half-eaten apple in my face. Since then whenever I see him, I duck.”
“That’s very funny.”
“Don’t worry, I made sure to tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are–”
“That was not needed.”
“–And how you accidentally moaned his name on my cock.”
You glare at him, “What about those statements made you think they were okay to voice out loud, not only once but twice?”
As Seungcheol comes up with a witty defense for his lapse in judgment, your phone buzzes next to your thigh and the name that pops up has you zoning everything out instantly.
han: hey, can we talk?
You look away from the screen and breathe out, “And that makes two of us dragging our sorry asses to Jeonghan’s place.”
When you knock on his door, the last thing you expect to see is a red-eyed, very sniffly Jeonghan. Heck, you hadn’t ever even come close to imagining the heartbroken look on Jeonghan’s face, his eyes downcast when you visibly look taken aback at his state.
“Han?”
“Hey,” his voice is hoarse and good lord, you can’t stand this. “Let’s sit in the living room. I was going to go grab some water anyway.”
You follow him speechlessly, watching the way his hands disappear into the sleeves of the black sweatshirt that hangs loose around his frame. You keep watching when he reappears, and it’s when he sits down quietly, fingers whitening around the glass of iced water in hands that you lose it.
“Talk to me, Han. Are you okay?” you breathe deeply to contain the multitude of concerned questions that threaten to leave your system. For one, you didn't know how to interpret the crestfallen expression he held up when he met your eyes. While someone like Wonwoo (aka a naive little kid) would argue that the only reasonable explanation for it would be that he was devastated that you’d been avoiding him the past week. But knowing what you did about him, you couldn’t let go of the possibility that he was just mourning the impending loss of a friend, i.e. you, when he breaks it to you that he doesn’t like you back.
Jeonghan senses you’re in your head when you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long, mouth agape, so he moves closer, taking the water out of your hands and placing it next to his emptied glass.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
Fuck. An apology?
You stammer, “S-Sorry? Why?”
“I’m sorry I called you an idiot the other day. You’re the farthest thing from an idiot– and you’re definitely not a kid. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. I just… I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized that somewhere along the way, I became really over-protective of you. I started treating you like you were fragile or something, and I shouldn’t have.”
“I’m listening,” you tell him, frown letting up now that he’s finally speaking up.
“And I’m sorry for being a cowardly little bitch about my feelings for you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to your lap where your fingers play with the fabric of your shirt uneasily. He stops your fiddling, his hands coming to envelope both of yours. “I’m the idiot for thinking I could be anything other than in love with you.”
“Huh,” you exhale again, biting your lip to hold the smile that threatens to spill.
“And finally, I’m sorry for not doing anything about it when I knew your feelings were mutual. As you know, I’m getting old and–”
You stop any further stupidity from leaving his lips by – you guessed it – by pressing your lips against them. He lets out a surprised gasp and your smile finally turns into a giggle when his hands tighten around yours in your lap.
You pull away, only to detach your hands so you can bury them in his hair instead and Jeonghan smiles at you, his eyes crescents as they watch you lovingly and you think: the pain was worth it.
Jeonghan’s smile widens when he feels you thumb at his skin, tenderly tracing his eye-bags.
“You look terrible, Han, I’m sorry,” you mutter, kissing his cheeks and then his forehead. He’s already mellowing under your hold and he hums, low, “You should be. I went to hell and back when Seungcheol announced he slept with you. I mean, what were you thinking?”
You break, guiltily looking away. “That was not my smartest moment but I was also very distraught about my relationship with a certain someone who wouldn’t contact me outside of my working hours.”
“You and your stubborn need to remain professional. Y/N, it’s a campus cafe, I don’t think anyone’s going to care if you break your act once in a while. I don’t know, if I don’t get a kiss the next time I visit you– I might just rethink this.”
You scoff in disbelief, “You’re a real pain in the ass, Jeonghan. Maybe I’ll just go back to my room and cry myself to sleep.” But as soon as you make moves to stand up, Jeonghan’s bringing you back to sit, taking the chance to pull you closer into a hug. “You will do no such thing.”
You freeze when you feel his nose settle into your shoulder, warm breaths relaxing when your hands reclaim their place in his hair. “I love you, Y/N.”
A beat passes and with a kiss to his head, you return, “I probably love you more, old man.”
“If we’re going to date, that nickname has got to go!”
“What? You’re the one who was complaining about your knee problems last week. It’s fine, I can add this relationship to my list of community service activities.”
Jeonghan pulls away, standing up abruptly and jerking you upward as well. Your smile falters but then, he’s steering you to his bedroom, throwing the door shut with a grunt. You side-eye him, “What’s up–” He cuts you off, lips hot against yours.
A few minutes later, when his tongue finally lets up, he mutters, “I just remembered that you kissed Seungcheol with this mouth. I’ve gotta do everything I can to erase that memory.”
“I can’t tell if you want me to forget… or yourself.”
“Shh, I bet he couldn’t even– Wait, why aren’t you wearing a bra? Don’t tell me you were–!”
“You sure love asking questions, old man,” you whine and before Jeonghan can question you further, you take ahold of his hand, sliding it over your stomach and down the waistband of your jeans, the space tight and hot but not as hot as the groan Jeonghan lets out when he feels you. “Holy fuck, you’re wet.”
You grin when he falls to his knees, your jeans unbuttoned and pulled down in next to no time. “There’s more where that came from,” you mumble before he’s between your thighs, ripping out scream after scream from your throat.
–
Genuinely and honestly, if you’d foreseen waking up in Jeonghan’s bed, his hair a mess from last night but face comfortably snuggled in your arm– you would’ve been less mean to Wonwoo. Because it turns out that his voice (of reason? or of deviance? you would never figure it out) in your head had been right: Jeonghan did return your feelings all those times you thought he might.
He tells you all about it when you’ve collapsed later that night, replacing the curses on your lips with dampness in your eyes because of how vulnerable he is, pouring his heart out to you like this.
Propped up on an elbow, he played with your hand, “I remember when you first came over with Wonwoo. I thought I’d met myself, but younger and prettier and sillier.”
“I hate it when you combine insults with compliments so I can’t attack you.”
“I learnt that from you, silly,” he kisses your nose but continues, “But honestly, the more we talked, the more I realized how different you are from me. I mean, sure, are you tired out of your mind half the time like me? Yeah. But you were so observant and so keen on getting to know people. It’s hard to come across people who are invested in friendships for more than just small talk and someone to have meals with.”
But just as he’s getting deep on you, he adds, “Plus, you smell a whole lot better than anyone else. I’d go crazy sitting next to you, especially because you just love to throw yourself at people in laughter.”
“Not that I’m complaining–” he stops your protests quickly, “I swear my heart would skip a beat everytime you laughed at something I said. And then the time we were talking about ideal types and you got all flustered over everyone teasing you about me? Dude, I had to run to the kitchen before I could do something rash. Like kissing you in front of everyone. Or worse, bride-style carrying you into my room so I could enjoy the adorably lovesick look on your face.”
You groan into his pillow, “Stooop. This is just embarrassing for me. It’s not like I was trying to be obvious.”
“I know, baby,” he coos, gentle hands prying you away from the pillow, “But you know, you have the same look on your face right now.” He laughs, kissing the pout off your lips with a sweet, “For what it’s worth, I was yours for a long time. Just took a minute for me to realize it.”
You huff but smile despite it and pull him closer, “I’m glad. Now hold me to sleep or I’m gonna be sad.”
Another laugh reverberates through the two of you when he slides down, pulling the sheets closer over you, and pats your back as you settle into him with a satisfied sigh. “Sleep well, my love.”
–
“And when I’m gone, please don’t stop eating breakfast in the morning. I know you think that it’s consequential to your life completely,” Seungcheol pauses for dramatic effect, “but it’s important. It could be the difference between living 20 less years or 50 more.”
“How scientifically true is that?” you mumble to Jeonghan under your breath, who being the devious little brat he is voices your concern, earning you a look from Seungcheol.
“Whatever, I knew my words were undervalued in this household ever since you guys started dating and refused to keep it down at night. Like, it’s not that hard, right?”
You punch Jeonghan’s arm to both keep him from telling the dick joke he’s about to say and also, to show Seungcheol that you wanted no part in this. “I told this guy to keep you in mind but that just made him mad which in turn led to… screaming. Sorry.”
Seungcheol sighs as he glances at his watch, “Okay, okay. I have to get going now so bring in whatever last-minute reconciliations you two have for me.”
Jeonghan steps forward and hugs the man, surprising both the latter and you. But you watch with a pleased smile playing on your lips, relieved that their friendship still seemed to go strong, bumps and all. When it’s your turn to hug Seungcheol, you scoff at the hesitant look he casts at your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his middle.
“Thanks for everything, Cheol. Keep in touch. And do something about this second-lead syndrome of yours. I better catch you in a happily stable relationship of your own next time around.”
Seungcheol chuckles quietly, waiting for you to pull away to say, “If that’s an order from the main female lead, then I guess I have no choice, do I? Unless,” his eyes mischievously stray to Jeonghan who already knows what’s coming next, “the male lead fucks up and leaves a certain pretty girl single, huh?”
You don’t have time to decipher if that’s a threat wrapped up in a punchline because Jeonghan’s arm’s around your shoulder, moving you away and besides you, he says, “You’ll be waiting all your life if you wait on me to fuck this up. Bye, Cheol, I can see that your Uber just pulled up.”
“Ha! Good one. Alright, this is goodbye for now. See y’all on my feed. Or it might be better if I don’t. Anyway, bye and don’t kill anyone.”
With Seungcheol gone, you look up at Jeonghan with a smug smirk, “Oh, so you plan on sticking around with me forever? That’s a long time, you know.”
Your boyfriend chuckles, his eyes twinkling, “Please, if I had the patience to watch you hug Seungcheol right in front of my eyes, being with you forever will be a breeze in the park. So yes, I plan to stick to you forever, like superglue.”
“Gross, you couldn’t say something romantic like candy or syrup?”
“Sorry, babe, but I was just distracted by how all mine you are that I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Never mind, I think it’s worse when you’re all cheesy. Go back to being gross?”
“I love you. Now, come here so I can kiss every single surface of your face. And then we can go on a walk and tell everyone who told me to give up to suck it.”
You lose balance when the laughter finally escapes your mouth but thankfully, Jeonghan’s arms are around you, promising and playful when you meet his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. I love you. So I guess we can do all the weird annoying stuff you want to do for now.”
Despite your banter though, the two of you are so happy together that you’re shocked by the picture of you with Jeonghan that Wonwoo Airdrops, after your walk. You have the dopiest smile on your face and Jeonghan’s looking at you with a cheesy grin. You hate to admit it but you do look like an “old married couple” like Wonwoo’s text teases. But for once, you give in, snuggling closer to Jeonghan’s body because well, yeah, you did plan to stick to him. Like superglue.
–
#once again apologizing#jeonghan x reader#seungcheol x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#svt fluff#svt angst#svt x reader#yoon jeonghan#choi seungcheol#seventeen smut#jeonghan angst#seungcheol angst
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Kinktober #13
13. Pregnancy // Aftercare // Roleplay (Wade Wilson x Reader)
“Mr Wilson? I’m ready to see you now.”
You don’t know how he talked you into this. It’s so porno-trope ridiculous. But here you are, dressed in the tight latex of a naughty nurse’s uniform, eyes wide and lips pouted as you lean on your wooden doorframe pretending it’s the entrance to an examination room.
To be fair Wade looks ecstatic. He puts down the copy of Men’s Health he’s been reading onto the coffee table - did he buy a load of magazines for this roleplay? - and stands up. From the moment he laid eyes on you all laced up in costume, he’s been rocking a semi.
It’s kinda flattering that after all this time together you can still have such an effect.
He follows you into the room and hops on the bed, affecting the posture of a sick man, cupping his groin like he’s sprained himself. You suppress an eye roll and take a seat in the ‘cuck chair’ (Wade’s name, not yours).
“What seems to be the problem, Mr Wilson?”
“Well nurse, it’s kinda embarrassing…”
Oh, okay, you’re doing a little bit of humiliation too. You can roll with that.
“I’m a medical professional Mr Wilson, please, it won’t be anything I haven’t heard before.”
He sighs long and hard before looking at you dead in the eyes.
“My penis is broken, nurse.”
You have to bite back a laugh and force yourself to stay in character.
“Your penis… is broken.”
“I know, it’s terrible. Feels like my manhood has been ripped from me, and not even in a literal sense so I could grow a new one. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyone… I just can’t get hard any more, nurse. I don’t know what to do.”
You go to grab the box of latex gloves the two of you invested in for wound-cleaning and make a show of snapping one on in front of him, before the other accidentally falls to the floor.
“Oops! Aren’t I clumsy…” you sigh, bending over at the waist so the uniform rides up and he can see you’re not wearing any panties. You think you hear him whisper a prayer to an avocado but you can’t be sure. “Anyway, I’ll need to do an examination, Mr Wilson. Can you remove your sweatpants? Underwear too, please.”
He’s never obeyed a command so quickly. It’s kinda cute. When stripped you can tell he’s definitely half-hard, cock bobbing in interest when you inspect him.
“Well it seems like you’re responding pretty well so far… let me try a digital examination…”
You wrap your fingers around him and begin to pump, smiling to yourself as he hardens in your hand. Wade throws his head back and bites his lip, a very pretty sight, breathing laboured and ragged.
“How is this, Mr Wilson?”
“Pre…pretty good, nurse. Seems like you have magic hands. Think I’m not quite cured yet though…”
“Oh, that’s alright, I have an oral technique which helps in cases like these.”
You swallow him down to the hilt with one motion and Wade almost has to stab himself with baby knife so he doesn’t come in your mouth right there and then. Fixing him with a wicked look you start bobbing up and down his length, getting him covered in your spit in just the way he likes. His hand snakes round to the back of your head desperately.
“Nurse - gah - is it against your hippocratic oath if I ask you to bite me, or are we all systems go there?”
Coming off of his dick with a wet pop you go for his thigh teeth-first, sinking them into where the flesh of his leg circles to his asscheek. That’s enough. Wade chokes and comes all over your uniform, and you’re glad the latex is easily wiped clean.
As he falls back in the bed you scribble something on a piece of paper and tuck it in the pocket of his sweatpants. Wade looks up at you from the mattress.
“What’s that?”
“Prescription for a round of cowgirl, to be administered later this evening.”
He lights up like the Fourth of July.
#my writing#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#mcu imagine#mcu fandom#avo's kt 24#kt 24#Deadpool x reader#deadpool imagine#wade Wilson x reader
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ZZZ Headcanons
Help this game has taken over my free time I love these characters sm <3 Billy Soukaku and Ellen my beloved
Nicole: has a not so secret hobby of bedazzling anything and everything. It’s a real problem in the Cunning Hares apartment, nothing is safe from pink rhinestones and stickers
Anby: cracked at rhythm games to an alarming degree. Can do a 2 person extremely hard DDR song all by herself
Billy: I don’t know how they did it but they programmed an android with autism. Has his own version of a skincare routine which is basically just maintenance on all of his tiny mechanical parts. Can also gain power multiple ways, including solar power. The apartment complex where the Cunning Hares live had a blackout once and everyone used Billy as a personal charging port. Nicole promised to pay him in Starlight Knight merch.
Nekomata: cuts her own hair and offers to do it for other people. DO NOT trust her when she says she’s good at it
Grace: did gymnastics as a kid which is why she’s able to pull off a ton of backflips and flexible maneuvers in battle
Anton: uses actual cement to keep his hair spikes in shape. Koleda caught him in the act once and instead of chewing him out, she decided to apply some to her own hair and now they’re cement combover gang
Ben: is completely vegan and loves chilling at hot springs a lot. Still sleeps with stuffed animals btw
Koleda: I’m making it canon right now Koleda is trans and you can’t do shit about it. Also has welding as a hobby and made most of her accessories from scratch
Corin: when not in Victoria Housekeeping Co uniform, is a Jfashion junkie. I’m talking super dedicated Lolita fits, menhera inspired clothing, the whole shebang. She ofc designs a lot of her own stuff like her bear backpack and is also responsible for a lot of the accessories Victoria Housekeeping Co wears (Rina’s bows, Ellen’s shark jaw head and neckpieces, Lycaon’s eyepatch and tail straps). She also has a massive crush on Ellen and is too scared to admit it
Rina: has a fur allergy and can’t keep animals around. Which also means she’s allergic to Lycaon. She has to take so much Zyrtec before clocking in but has such a good poker face that Lycaon has no idea. Ellen knows tho
Lycaon: specifically wears the heeled boots and has his odd posture because he’s self conscious about his digitigrade legs, he thinks they’re unsightly for a butler of his standing to have. He also tries to encourage Ellen to wear a long maid dress like Rina does to hide her tail.
Ellen: coincidentally falls into a lot of shark stereotypes. She loves seafood, has to constantly be fidgeting or she feels like she’ll go mad, and the kicker, she gets frenzied around blood, or if the thing she’s fighting puts up a struggle. Corin accidentally cut her hand while repairing her saw blade once and both Lycaon and Rina could barely hold Ellen back once Corin began bleeding. Ellen feels awful for scaring the already timid girl. Corin secretly thought it was hot and would die on the spot if anyone knew that
Soukaku: despite being a huge foodie this girl cannot cook for shit. Is also physically cold to the touch and during the summer her coworkers will ask her to hold their drinks because they’ll stay cold. Soukaku always secretly sneaks sips every time they do this to her.
Miyabi: has the worst sleep schedule known to man. Sometimes you’ll find her awake at 3AM and conked out by 4PM, other times she goes to bed at 8PM and wakes up at 4AM. It’s inconsistent and irregular and a gamble trying to contact her outside of work because she might not even be awake
Harumasa: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY. Also pretty cracked at chess and other strategy games. Is also a major old fashioned guy and doesn’t own a lot of modern technology. He’s not into retro or old stuff, he just doesn’t like new stuff
Yanagi: her glasses are fake. When she was younger she needed them, but her vision had naturally gotten better over the years, so she now wears contacts, but for some reason still insists on wearing her glasses. Loses them constantly during battle.
Lucy: even though she was forced to play piano as a kid, she really wanted to be a sporty girl and play stuff like soccer and baseball. Now she has the freedom to take part in the sports she likes and watch them surrounded by the people she likes
Piper: insanely picky eater to the point it drives Lucy up a wall. Is also picky about a lot of other things, like how different fabrics feel, different comfort levels of chairs and beds, girl is a complainer and will always find something to complain about
Lighter: has a side gig as a tattoo artist, has really stable hands too
Soldier 11: has 5 younger brothers, a younger sister, and 2 older siblings who she doesn’t see super often. Has divorced parents who also liked to adopt, which is why she has such a huge family. Her younger brothers love it when she comes home and plays secret agent military with them
Seth: can’t drive. That’s it send tweet.
Qingyi: is outwardly dismissive of meditation tricks and hacks and tips but utilizes that shit in private ALL the time.
Zhu Yuan: shares the vegetables she grows in her garden with all her neighbors. Is also a REALLY good cook to the point people have encouraged her to potentially consider a different career path
Jane Doe: the rat girl has pet rats go figure. But in all seriousness she’d die for her little guys. She has a white one named Cocaine and a brown one named Tobacco and a gray one named Crystal Meth. She thinks the names are hilarious and every time she introduces the rats to other people their facial expressions are priceless
#zenless zone zero#zzz#zzz headcanons#billy kid#anby demara#nicole demara#nekomiya mana#Soukaku#hoshimi miyabi#harumasa zzz#yanagi zzz#koleda belobog#ben bigger#anton ivanov#grace howard#corin wickes#ellen joe#alexandrina sebastiane#von lycaon#piper wheel#luciana de montefio#lighter zzz#zhu yuan#qingyi#seth lowell#soldier 11#zenless zone zero headcanons
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More Than Meets The Eye
TFA Optimus! X F!Reader
6k
Summary: Being a rising journalist is difficult. Especially when you have to live a secret criminal life. Things get worst when you start to fall in love with your enemy, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and hero of Detroit City.
You believe the feelings can't be mutual. Yet, he slowly starts to notice that you are more than meets the eye.
A/N: Lots of yearning. Jealously. Enemies to lovers?? You are a journalist who is also a criminal. Idk. Takes place between Season 1 and 2 of TFA.
Chapter 1: Ride or Die
....
Detroit City could be ugly, nasty, unhygienic, gentrified and many other things.
But never boring.
Especially with robotic aliens patrolling the streets.
Bots that you didn't trust fully nor liked very much.
Even more, that Optimus Prime that everyone seemed to like so much.
With his red and blue colors, his helm that looks like he is always wearing a cap and straight posture that was too authoritative for your liking.
While everyone was excited, taking pictures of the Autobots, you were there to ask the real questions. Your job as a reporter was to tell the truth and that's what you plan to do by exposing the leader of the Autobots.
"Mr. Prime, I have a question for you."
You raised your hand, not really sure if that matters but you wanted to keep being respectful.
"Oh, yes, how can I help you, ma'am?"
Optimus sees you walk through the crowd of people and paparazzi. Press conferences weren't unknown to him. The citizens, the reporters, the speechless mayor and his assistant that probably did everything for him.
"I've done some research and Detroit's oil supply has plummeted since your arrival to Earth. This has created a tax increase for all of Detroit's citizens. How do you respond to this?"
"Well, we do need to eat to keep helping the city," Optimus bends down to be able to speak on the mic. "But we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused."
"If you were sorry you and your team would have already found all the fragments of the AllSpark and departed Earth."
"How do you know about–?"
You didn't let him finish his question as you striked with another statement.
"But no, you and the Autobots are too focused on wasting Earth's resources and playing heroes to even think of recovering your world's most powerful energy source."
"What? No, we–"
He keeps getting interrupted by you. Although he tries to keep his cool, he wasn't in the best of moods either. Each statement you were making was ticking off his clock.
"Without mentioning that you have been spotted entering nearby natural reservation islands without the proper permissions or documentation."
"Well, yes but I thought it was fine–"
"Why would it be fine?" You look up at him. Even when you weren't very fond of the alien robots, you had to admit that they were a spectacle to look at. But you quickly shook the thought away. "Just because you are big and dangerous you think you are entitled to cross human law?"
"Look missy, I don't know what's your problem but–"
"My problem is that you are not answering my questions."
There's a bit of laughter coming from behind Optimus. If he had been smart enough, he could've said something along the lines of 'you aren't asking any questions, you are just saying statements.' Instead, he lashes out on you, giving you the exact reaction you wanted.
"If only you gave me time, I would respond to them!" Seeing his mistake, Optimus stands away from the pod, clearly frustrated at the situation. "You know what, we don't have the time for this."
Smiling Autobots was the first thing he saw as soon as he turned to look at them. He ex-vents, not wanting to deal with it.
"Autobots, transform and roll out."
.
.
.
The abandoned building had become their home. It was big enough to have rooms for everyone. Each catering for every bot's needs. But not even the vastness of the building could sparse the leader's rising annoyance. Walking from side to side of the hangar, looking down and with a servo on his chin, he questioned the previous interaction.
He doesn't remember seeing you before. Either that or your existence wasn't important enough for his processor to remember.
"How did that lady know about the AllSpark?" Optimus keeps walking as Bumblebee and Sari play video games on the sofa. "We haven't told anyone about the fragments."
Hearing something being dropped, Optimus quickly turns to look at the little girl who has taken long-term residence at their base.
"Sari?" Optimus questions, getting closer to her. "Is there anything you want to say?"
"Sorry, I thought yall were going to release that information to the public soon," she plays with her thumbs, moving them in a circle in between her hands. "So, I thought, why not sell the information to a reporter? Save you guys the time!"
"Why would you do that?"
Bumblebee questions her, he didn't know about her actions either.
"Because I need the money! If I don't have money, I can't afford food. If I don't eat, I'll die!" Sari feels threatened, especially when she sees the rest of the bots gathering around her. "And all my credit cards have been frozen ever since my dad disappeared."
It was as if everyone had a spoken agreement. Her explanation was a very good one. Feeling shy and maybe like a burden to them, she did what any little girl would. As best as she could with the current circumstances. No one was angry at her, just worried for what this could bring to the team.
"What else have you told her?"
Prowl asks this time, sounding as calm as ever.
"Nothing, I promise!" Sari exclaimed. "Actually, ever since I told her about my situation, she never fails to send me some money in the mail."
"Probably to gain your trust so you could later tell her more information about us," Ratchet always assumed the worst of people. A trait that no one could blame. Being a war-veteran, distrusting others was the best for survival.
"I don't think so, she just sends money. No notes, no letters, nothing."
"Whatever the situation is, we can't have her spreading misinformation about us," Bulkhead is the last to speak his mind.
"She wasn't lying, bulkhead," Optimus remembers your statements. Each of them had truth in them. "She was right. We did everything she said we did."
As much as he wanted to reprimand the little girl, he couldn't do it. Instead he takes a few seconds to think.
"But we can't have her writing negative articles about us," he says as he takes a moment to look at his very little friend. "Especially if we plan to ask for some monetary compensation for Sari."
He really didn't want to ask for any kind of payment from the humans. Everything he did, he did in the name of goodness and to further improve Cybertronian-Human diplomatic relationships. But Sari was part of the team and his duty as leader was to take care of everyone. And she was a helpless little girl. He needs to take care of her properly and for that he needs human currency. Not much, just whatever is needed for a human to survive. Food, maybe clothes? Water. Oxygen? Medication ... Education? Did she need that? He is not sure but maybe Sari could make him a list later.
For now, there is a reporter he needs to find.
.
.
.
You weren't new to doing undercover work. You enjoyed it, pretending to be someone else, getting the information you needed, then going home as if you had lived another life.
Tonight, it was one of those nights. Where you wore heels, a skirt and a revealing top. Loose hair and lip gloss and a wing to cover your real hair color.
During the day you were a reporter. Tonight you were a car enthusiast.
"So, would you take me?"
"A beautiful car needs a beautiful woman,"
You had been talking with a man for fifteen minutes. It's stupid how easy it was to get a man. Just listening to them talk for ten minutes straight without talking usually does the trick.
"And you know, racing is not the only thing I am good at."
Smiling, not because of his suggestive comment but because you were about to get what you wanted, you were about to make your way inside the car.
Until bright lights pointing at you ruined the moment.
"What does that freak want?"
There is a loud sound of engine coming from the large truck. Although the light was bright, you could see a few shades of blue and red.
"This is the police, stand down."
"Shit."
The man who you were talking to didn't hesitate to turn on his car and speed up. Letting off a train of fumes and leaving you behind.
Great, now you had to explain that you weren't a hooker but an undercover reporter to the officer.
Except that this wasn't a cop. It wasn't even a person. But a driverless car. A bot you tragically knew too well.
"So you have come for your revenge after today's press conference?" you ask sarcastically as you begin to walk away. You raised your hand and waved from side to side."Well, you got it. Now leave me alone."
You can hear the little 'click and clack' of your heels as they impact against the concrete ground. But close by you can still hear the roaring engines. Headlights were still pretty bright and you wondered if he understood human cues. Because this just looks like some guy harassing a woman.
"Not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that guy?" Optimus follows as he drives next to you. "I thought you would be more educated."
"Well, I didn't ask you to save me," you wanted to take bigger steps but you've been walking for so long with your heels that you can't do it anymore. "Is butting into other people's business an Autobot costume?"
"Look I am not going to fall into your tactics," he says. "I just came to say that I think we started off with the wrong pede."
"Oh? Really? Why do you think that?"
"Well, for starters, I think you have the wrong ideas about us," Optimus takes a closer look at you. Wearing a different style than what you wore this morning. "Yes you are right, sometimes we don't do the right thing. But we are new here and we don't know any better."
"So you should be excused for all actions just because of your ignorance?" you feel like you are being observed. Not in a desirable manner but rather a curious one. Optimus didn't have 'eyes' but optics. His vision is probably more enhanced, being a bot and all. "Is that what you are saying?"
"No, I am saying that maybe you could try and understand us and be more ... lenient whenever you write about us."
"And why would I do that?" you began to feel self conscious. Miniskirts weren't your thing, you liked them but Optimus heavy optics on you wasn't the most comfortable. Maybe it was all your imagination. Besides, you doubted that Optimus could feel attraction towards a human. "Are you going to hurt me if I don't?"
"What? No!"
You stop walking and suddenly turn to look at him.
"Then I won't change anything."
He doesn't want to think about it too much but he feels his something inside him short-circuit. Now, he realized he had been staring at you for too long. Particularly interested in your skin. As far as he knows metal and skin don't react the same way to cold. Your material being more sensitive to climate change. He was studying you and all he concluded is that you were cold.
"Why do you care so much about what we do and don't? How does it even affect you?" his engines roar louder. "We help the humans with crime, cleaning the streets, repairing buildings and other humiliating things without any type of compensation but I don't see you writing about that stuff!"
"Do you know what happens when you and your crew destroy a building?"
"The city repairs it."
"Yes, they do," you walk towards him, aggressively placing your hands on his door. His truck form was too large for you to reach his window. It's not like you were planning to punch him but rather make your point. "But who's money do they use to repair those damages?"
He stays quiet and you proceed.
"The people's money," using your index finger, you keep poking at him each time you make a statement. "Ever since you and your Autobots got here, things have become way more expensive. Food, gas, bills. There are families who will be homeless because they can't afford to pay rent. All because the city is raising taxes to pay for all the damages you cause."
His headlights blink every time you keep touching him, with every word that escapes your lips.
"It's already hard enough being a journalist in Detroit and now I have to focus on surviving too. I need to contribute good stories to the newsroom or I won't even have money to buy cigarettes."
Then, you point off into the distance, the road is clear but dark. Only the city lights illuminated the path but everything had an eerie feel to it .
"And that guy you just scared off? He was my ticket to have a warm meal tonight and you ruined it for me."
You take your hands off him. His headlights stop blinking.
"So, I am sorry. I am sorry I won't write about how the Autobots are Detroit's heroes and how good they are because they pick up some cans."
You walk away. Now thinking of whether to spend your last $20 bucks on food or a taxi to take you home.
At least you can't hear the roaring engine anymore.
As he sees you struggle to keep walking, Optimus notices your shivering. How you tried to cover your backside with your bag and how ever so often your stomach would quietly growl. Although he wasn't an expert on human biology, he knew that meant you were hungry.
He remembers your words and then Sari's. Although you were struggling to survive, you still somehow managed to help out Sari. A job he is supposed to be doing but failing miserably.
"I– " he drives up to you again. For a second, he doesn't have anything to say. Apologizing won't help you in any way. "Is there any way I can help?"
"Well, unless you can transform into a racing car and take me to do some illegal car racing, I don't think so."
Behind you, you hear metal shifting. Driving next to you is blue and red ... Corvette? Camaro? Ferrari? You didn't know a single thing about cars but the only thing you knew is that it was a nice looking car. Dynamic, elegant and shiny. Hot and sexy. And a beautiful car needs a beautiful girl.
"Anything else?"
.
.
.
It was 3 a.m.
A dark and isolated road on the outskirts of Detroit will be witness to your first car racing. You didn't know a single thing about cars and much less racing. But thankfully for you, your racer is a car. He should know better ... right?
As a reporter you are supposed to blend in with the crow but with Optimus, you knew that was impossible. All eyes were on you as soon as you drove by the starting line. Wondering who had just joined the car racing scene.
"Everyone is here ... Can't we just arrest them?"
"No, I am not the police. I am just here to report on things. To inform people this is happening."
You look around the vehicle, there was technology that Earth didn't have. There wasn't a single thing you could understand. Getting nervous, you tried to get some fresh air. Clicking a few random buttons, you hear Optimus make a few displeased growls.
"Would you stop that? You know you are touching my body, right?"
You quickly stop, not knowing how to feel about being inside a mechanic alien.
"Can you lower the windows then? I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic."
Optimus does as you told him and now you get a clearer view of your sides. To your right there is a white Camaro with black racing stripes. To your left, a red and white car. The fancy type which brand you didn't know nor care.
"Hey beautiful, when I win let's make out in the back of my car!"
Hearing that comment, you tell Optimus to roll up the windows again. He quickly didn't hesitate to ask questions.
"What is make out?"
You see another woman stand in front of the car. Holding a red handkerchief. Extremely beautiful and thin, she made walking in heels look easy. The cars start their engines and you start regretting this.
"If we win this, I'll show you."
"What do we get if we win anyway?"
Looking at the steering wheel, you think about holding it but then again Optimus seems very decided for you not to touch him. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you shake the thought off your head.
"I get a good story and three thousand dollars."
"Can I have some of that money? For Sari, of course."
"Absolutely but," you look around the car, trying to look for the seatbelt. The race was about to start and you couldn't find it. "Where is the seat-"
But the race had started, Optimus didn't listen as he sped though the road. You abruptly lay back on the seat. Making mental notes about the situation. The racers, the rules, the cars, the place.
You wished you could enjoy the excitement of the race ... if it only wasn't that your life was held by a threat.
As Optimus makes an abrupt turn, you move from one seat to the other. Almost doing a complete 360.
"Would you care to drive more carefully?!"
You rub your head. Feeling like a small bump on the back, you are thankful the windows are tinted dark. No one can see your humiliating falling and bumping into Optimus windows and door.
"Don't you want to win, missy?"
"I can only win if I get to the finishing line ALIVE!"
As if he wasn't hearing you, he makes another aggressive movement. This time you end up side down, with your head on the feet rest and your legs on the passenger seat.
"THAT'S IT! I AM DRIVING!"
You straighten up and quickly put your hands on the steering wheel, taking control of the alien mech.
"Hey, missy! Hands off the steering wheel!!"
"I'll do that when you learn how to drive!"
You fought against his strength, as he moved himself to the opposite side. It wasn't often that you fought against an alien but if your life wasn't in danger you wouldn't do so. Watching all the cars passing by was also alarming, you weren't only going to die but also lose.
"I'll have you know my driving skills have been renowned by the Elite Guard!"
"I don't give a f–"
He lost control, as you did. The screeching tires against the pavement could be heard as the rubber of them burned. You couldn't react as Optimus crashes against a pine tree. Hitting your head against the steering wheel, you thought you might get a concussion. However, you get enough strength to get out of the car and walk a few meters away from him. It wasn't until all the racing cars had passed you that Optimus transformed back to his robot form.
"I just got a new paint job and a polish!"
He says as he sees some scratches on his body.
"And you almost killed me!" you put a hand on your head, it hurts as if your whole brain was pulsating. Your sight is dizzy and your body is weak. "I knew it, I knew this wouldn't work out and I still trusted you."
"We wouldn't be here if you had only kept your hands to yourself."
"No, we wouldn't be here if only you had a goddamn seatbelt?!"
Optimus was also frustrated with the situation. Now he is too far behind to win the race and he needed the money to buy food for Sari. Not only that but after tonight he is going to have to give explanations to the rest of his team. He is probably gonna be made fun of for not having a 'leader-behavior' and they were right. Because why was he here? At first, he just wanted to help you. But it seems you don't want to nor appreciate his effort.
"And why would I? I don't let humans inside me," he points at you, unaware of your delicate state. "Besides it's not my fault your body is so weak."
"Well, for someone who is supposed to protect life, you certainly do a great," there is clear sarcasm in your voice. You probably shouldn't be fighting against a giant robot but if he were to squish you right now, he would be doing you a favor.
"I don't even know why you are on Earth if you don't even like humans."
"Oh, I like humans, I just don't like you."
"Well, the feeling is mutual."
You take off your heels and start walking back on the cold pavement. Feeling cold everywhere, you wonder what is going to kill you first. Hypothermia or brain damage.
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"We are on the outskirts of the city, you'll get home by the next solar cycle if you walk."
As much as Optimus dislikes you, he wouldn't let a lady walk alone at night.
"Let me take you home."
"No," now it hurts to breathe. You probably got a few injuries but you tried to hide the pain. The last thing you wanted was to confirm Prime's idea that you were weak. You were, but he didn't have to know. "Just leave me alone."
"Does your pride have no end?" Optimus' words weren't helping either. "Just come inside–"
He was going to keep talking until he noticed that you had stopped walking. He sees you put a hand on your head and the other on your stomach.
Suddenly, you lose balance and he quickly reaches a servo out to catch you. He had assumed that most humans should be warm. The coldness of your body was not common. Analyzing you, he sees that you are still breathing but unconscious. You are small on his servo and he feels as though he needs to cover you.
Maybe, you were right ... he should have let you drive.
.
.
.
There were many questions in Ratchet's processor. But seeing Optimus' worried face restrained his voice box from instigating the Prime.
"I am not an expert in human biology but my analysis says that she is dehydrated and malnourished. She probably hasn't eaten in days."
Ratchet sees you in the medical berth. In a deep sleep and weakend, he doesn't know when you will wake up.
"Don't you think it would have been better to take her to a human medical center?"
"I thought about it but while I was driving, she woke up momentarily and asked me not to take her there."
Optimus had assumed that the reason you didn't want to go to a 'hospital' was due that maybe you didn't have a means to pay for it. The thought alone made him spark ache, he didn't understand why humans would charge for a basic right.
"Well then, make yourself useful and bring her some warm human fuel," Ratchet says. "And maybe some human clothes with more fabric or a blanket."
Optimus nods, but there is hesitancy. He doesn't move and Ratchet catches on this. His optics are on you as if studying you. Most obvious, there is guilt and worry. He takes a closer look at him. Some part of his paint was ripped off and his metal was scratched.
"Did anything of importance happen?"
"I tried to help her with something but things didn't occur as I planned them."
There was something he was keeping to himself.
"Did anything else happen?"
"It's just ...," he pauses and the longer he looks at you, the more Ratchet wonders. He has known the boy for some time now. He has seen him at his best and at his worst but this is different. It's like he wants to say or do something but he can't. Either because he is too timid or because he can't find the right words. But Optimus' eloquence was known through all of Cybertron.
"It's nothing."
.
.
.
The smell of chicken noodle soup wakes up. It is an unknown place but you feel warm. Much more than your cold, small apartment. It was a bright room, and underneath was a red, giant medical bed. A white blanket covers your body and the face of a little girl stares right at you.
"Hi!"
You slowly stand up, your head still hurting but at least you were alive.
"Hey, kid."
You take a better look at the place around you. At least it wasn't a hospital and for that you were thankful.
"I am Sari! And you must be (Y/N)? We exchanged Autobot information before?"
The girl was smiling, excited to see you. By hearing her name, you immediately knew what she was referring to. A few weeks ago, you had received a letter from someone, you assumed that it was a kid due to the wacky handwriting and simple vocabulary. Nonetheless, this kid was selling Autobot information to you, some things valuable, others not so much. After learning the truth behind the kid, you decided to help her as much as you could.
"I am guessing this is the secret base of the Autobots?"
You ask the obvious. You didn't find any other logical explanation as to why there would be such big beds and medical equipment.
"Yeah ... Please, don't tell anyone," Sari says. "Or Optimus is gonna have to threaten you."
"Well, I would like to see him try," you give the little girl a head pat. "But I promise I won't say a word, just because you ask me to."
This would have been valuable information if it wasn't due that it didn't matter anymore. You were supposed to have a story by today and the only thing you have is a headache. Another day, another non-existent payment. You are gonna have to get used to eating air at this point.
"You should eat," Sari puts the bowl of soup closer to you. "Optimus made it for you and I helped, of course."
After hearing his name, you quickly turn to look at the little girl. You could tell she was telling the truth but she also had a mischievous smile.
"Is there something you want to ask me?"
You weren't about to make a meal go to waste. Picking up the spoon, you start to dig in. It wasn't bad and you wonder if Optimus actually helped at all because you can't imagine someone who is unable to taste human food, being able to make something this good.
"Well, I was wondering ... Will you be staying with us from now on?"
"No," you simply say, too concentrated in eating to think properly. "Why are you asking that?"
"Well, do you want to?"
"Thanks for the offer but I don't think the Autobots would like me here."
"But I can get so lonely sometimes!" Sari puts puppy eyes on her face and you have to admit that it was slowly working. "I need a friend."
"You can still write to me if you would like."
"That's not enough ..."
Suddenly, you heard loud and big steps approaching from behind you. You didn't want to think about it. If you don't see it, it's not real. But then you hear mechanics moving and you are sure that if you were to turn around, you'll find a very unpleasant faceplate.
"Sari, do not overwhelm our guests," Optimus says. "She's still recovering."
"Don't mind me, I was just leaving."
Like an animal, you drink the last of your soup and put it next to you.
"Hey um ... About last night, I ..." He pauses and struggles with his words. "I wanted to apologize–"
"No need."
You stand up and let the white blanket covering you slip off your body. It gets cold immediately and you are tempted to ask if you can stay with the blanket.
"Wait! If you really need to, you can stay here,"
"And become your charity project? No, thank you."
His faceplate was still very close to yours. Now you can take a closer look at his optics. You didn't want to admit it but they were quite beautiful. A type of blue not found on Earth. Maybe not even in the entire universe. It was unique to him and you were a bit jealous of his own individuality.
"I am just trying to help."
"I think you have helped enough," you weren't about to fall for his kindness. It was his own stubbornness that put you in this situation. That and that you haven't taken care of yourself properly but he doesn't have to know that. "If I let you help me again, then I'll for sure die."
"If only you would put your pride away, we could help each other–"
"You want to help me? Why? Because you like me? Or to subside your guilt?"
"Because it's the right thing to do."
"The right thing to do?" You can't stand his righteousness. Pretending to be this all-good creature when you know that can't be. How good can he be when he is the cause of your misfortunes? Not only yours but to a lot of more people. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't seem to want to do anything about it. "Why don't you start by leaving my planet first then?"
Optimus stares at you and you look back at him. It was a few seconds but to you it lasted minutes.
He doesn't say anything but slowly moves apart from you and walks away.
You turn to look at Sari who was still sitting close by.
"Sorry you had to see that kid."
"It's alright, but can I tell you something?"
You didn't want to be here. The sun was probably about to rise and you just wanted to go home. But you couldn't say no to the girl, she seemed too sweet and her situation was still lamentable. You nod, confirming for Sari to continue.
"I've known Optimus for a time now and I can tell you that he is not very well-versed with the ladies," she says. "He rescued a woman once and she asked for his phone number."
Tilting you heard, a lot of things crossed your mind. You have so many questions, especially about the kind of woman who would want a machine as something more than a friend.
"And what happened?"
"He gave it to her and she texted him," she raised a small hand, pointing up. "The text said 'Do you think I am pretty?"
"And Optimus texted back saying 'I think you look soft and squeezable. And she never texted back."
You stopped yourself from laughing. Although a small smile left your lips. You look away for a second and then look back at the young girl.
"Optimus is good at hiding his feelings but you can tell he was sad she never texted him back."
"Why are you telling me this?"
You finally ask, curious about the story but mostly about Sari's intentions.
"Just so you know that he can be an idiot sometimes but he has a good heart ... Well, spark," Sari's voice becomes more gentle and this caught your attention. This wasn't supposed to be a funny story and now you feel a bit shameful for laughing.
"And I think he just doesn't know how to tell you that."
.
.
.
The sun was starting to come out.
You took off your heels for a little bit until the cold pavement was too much to handle for your skin.
You weren't expecting for things to go this way. Wanting to start a new life, away from everything. It was all going smoothly until they arrived. Now you find yourself on a bench, cold and hungry. Waiting for the first bus to take you home.
How much longer did you have to endure?
You cover your face, ashamed of yourself. Of every decision you have made in your life. This is your reality now. About to be kicked out of your apartment, without a stable job and nowhere to go. No one to talk to.
Your cellphone rings.
Not recognizing the phone number on the screen, you were hesitant to answer but lastly, you picked it up, things can't get worse anyways.
"It was harder to get a hold of you than I thought."
You recognized that voice.
"But I am glad you are doing fine. How's the city life treating you?"
"How did you find me?"
You ask as you look around you. No one was out yet. Just a few cars passed by and the tweets of birds could be heard.
"That doesn't matter. I called thinking you may be interested in a job."
"I am not. No matter what you say, I won't go back there."
"Are you sure? I can send you over the first half of the payment right now."
You were in desperate need. He knows that and is taking advantage of that. Your instincts were begging you to say yes. To just do one more job, to get enough food to survive for a little while until you can get back on your feet. But ...
"I appreciate the offer. But I have to decline."
There is a long pause.
"We'll keep in touch."
.
.
.
"Still thinking about that woman?"
When Ratchet says things like that, it's difficult not to notice the subtle hits in his voice box.
"Perhaps."
Ratchet can tell many things from the Prime's actions. He wasn't drinking his fuel and in deep thought. At least he wasn't denying the question.
"I am sure you'll see her again," Ratchet says as he pat's Optimus' shoulder plate. "Next time ask for her number."
"It's not like that."
His cheeks have a slight blue. Very minimal but Ratchet knows better than that.
It was a lively evening in the Autobot's base. With Bumblebee and Sari playing video games while Prowl and Bulkhead stand next to them. Optimus and Ratchet usually watch from the sidelines, never participating but just treasuring the tranquility of the moment.
"If it's not that then what is it?"
"I just ..."
Optimus hesitates not because he didn't want to tell Ratchet but because he couldn't understand his own feelings. Was it guilt? Curiosity? It's strange and yet both emotions are something he wishes to not feel. He should be worrying about the things he can fix, people he can help.
He shouldn't think about you.
About yesterday night. About the drive back to the base. You laid on his seat, unconscious. Yet you mustered the strength to say three simple words.
"Don't leave me."
And just like that. His spark ached.
Damn you.
He doesn't have time for this. For all he cares, he hopes to never see you again.
Because how dare you play with his feelings like that?
"I'm going for a drive."
There was nothing else to do but ride or die.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A/N: Here is a new story I am working on. It was really fun to write this. Thank you for all the support you have given me this far! I'll continue to write. For any ideas, comments, concerns, comments you can always message me/or inbox me here. Thank you. Also sorry for any mistakes I made. I don't proof read. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and I'll be answering comments soon!
See you in the next story!
Next:
https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/772695486936301568/more-than-meets-the-eye?source=share
#optimus prime#optimus prime x reader#optimus x oc#optimus x reader#transformers optimus#transformers#transformers fanart#transformers fanfiction#orion pax#orion pax x reader#transformers animated#tfa optimus prime#tfa#optimus#tf animated#tfa optimus#optimus x yn#optimus x you#transformers prime#tfa bumblebee#tf au#sari sumdac#tfa fanart#tfa fanfiction#tfp optimus prime#tf one optimus#ratchet x reader#transformers x reader#optimus prime x human#tf x reader
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I wanted to talk about Toothless and how his design and personality changed for the worst throughout the 3 animated movies (I won't be tackling any of the shows because I haven't watched them)
In the first movie he's at his best. His design is actually amazing, from the overall model structure to the patterns on his skin (which are visible in every shot, especially the ones taking place during the day, without ruining the 'illusion' of his black skin. It actually feels like it's resembling a panther aka black leopard in which the fur patterns are still visible). His face has a more aerodynamic shape, more sharp, a big curve.
His snarky but intelligent personality was really fitting for him. And we got to see more of it as the movie was progressing and he was getting more comfortable with humans.
In the second movie the patterns on his skin are still mostly there, way less prominent but still visible. His face got squashed down (a problem which only because stronger in the 3rd movie) but as a whole he still looks presentable, kinda. His posture changed too (but I'm too lazy to find evidence, you'll have to take my word for it).
I remember not having a problem with his personality in the second movie which is why I was surprised to see that this was only half true. He acts more domesticated, that's to be expected, but only around humans? When he interacts with other dragons it's like he's a completely different character, closer to what he became in httyd 3 than 1. He's still quite intelligent and more used to human equipment and people in general. In the first part of the film (especially this scene with Hiccup) he acts like how I'd imagine he should be in the 3rd movie, here it should have been a 'middle' ground, not 100% domesticated but not movie 1 feral either.
In the third movie he suffered the worst. Gone are the patterns on his skin, he's solid black now. His face got weirder too.
His personality got reduced to this stupid, slobbering 'dog'. His pupils are always dilated and his tongue almost constantly out. He acts unintelligent and he doesn't have that snarky personality he had in the first and even the second movie. He's basically a different character altogether. (That scene where he tries to 'woo' the light fury is embarrassing at best and shows exactly what's wrong with his character now).
They did it to make him more 'likable' to younger audiences + to make a good visual contrast to the light fury (who has an undercooked personality AND awful design as well), which is weird because they gave the light fury patterns on her wings?
The light fury looks like a beluga whale in the worst way possible. She has almost nothing going on visually to the point it doesn't even make sense. Her skin looks fragile, she's so weirdly smooth for no reason. It would legit be better if they took a night fury model and painted it white.
They gave her a 'cat' personality and took it away from Toothless (why couldn't both be 'cats'?). Also she's the 'girl' character, her only purpose is to be the romantic interest. She adds nothing to the film.
No comment in the live action design. Just ugly. Atrocious even.
Also something else that's been bothering me from the live action remake is this scene.
They've basically recreated every scene exactly as it was in the original so far (which is a bad thing) but the slight hesitation Toothless showed before touching Hiccups hand was the one thing they chose not to include? (I know the scene wasn't meant to have that in the beginning and it was an error in animation which they decided to keep because it gave the scene more personality so, why not include it in the live action?)
#I have so many opinions about these movies but they're mostly negative. the 1st one feels so detached from the others and it's a masterpiece#yes the patterns on his skin matter very much both to a 22 year old me as much as tgey dud in 8 year old me#I rewatched all 3 movies for this post and holy molly they're worse than I remember. except 1. ine is perfect#I rewatch it every year. the other two not so much. the 3rd I've actually only watched once#I dont like the whole 'my mother is alive and a super dragon master + everyone is kind of a dragon master actually. also toothless is alpha#takes away from the 1st idk#httyd#how to train your dragon#toothless#toothless httyd#not art#long post#httyd criticism
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I’ve done Dr. Clef hcs, now for my gears hcs but i havent read his wiki in ages and so most of this will be nowhere near canon
He is horrible with naming stuff. Would probably call a black and white cat Oreo.
He doesn’t realise he might be bi, but everyone around him thinks he’s already out.
Would probably let his hair grow out if someone he likes told him he looked decent with it like that.
He’s the type of guy to bite ice cream.
He doesn’t drink usually, unless it’s for celebration.
He/Him
He probably knows how to breakdance, and also ballroom dance, but he will only ever do the “dad dance” thing where he’s just moving his arms around and slightly moving to the beat of the music, ykwim?
Has the WORST posture. Hunchback of notre-dame ahh posture
Probably has hay fever. Doesn’t know hay fever meds exist, and so just complains about it quietly until autumn comes.
Has taken so many measures to make sure he doesn’t start balding. The reason why is related to the other hair one 🤫🧏♂️
He tries so hard to learn modern slang and just embarrasses himself (he doesn’t know 😔)
Once had a coughing fit so hard that everyone thought he was dying. He was just clearing mucus from his throat.
Related to that one, he either is the type of guy to clear his thought really loudly in the bathroom at 6AM, or do the coughing thing.
I fear I might hc every person in this foundation with this, but. autism. Never getting diagnosed, though.
Probably has some form of heart problem. He’s an old man, of course he does! Idk what exactly tho, and he probably won’t do anything about it
My hands are tired from typing and I just woke up so some of those wont make sense ‼️‼️‼️💥💥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️🥚‼️‼️⁉️⁉️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️⚙️⚙️⚙️‼️‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥💥💥🗣️🗣️
A
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You got me losing control
You looked at him again, anxious, watching him approach cautiously until he shortened the distance between your bodies. “I want you tonight... if you want me...”
pairing: aemond targaryen x wife!reader
warnings: smut, p in v sex, english is not my first language. 3,240 words
aemond targaryen masterlist
Your marriage to Prince Aemond of House Targaryen was a blessing to your family. No matter how noble a birth or reputation was before Westeros, the union with a representative of royalty is the summit of relevance, respect and sophistication that a house can achieve — and that's exactly how you and your family came to be seen and treated in Kingslanding.
After the announcement of the engagement, certain rumors about the behavior and appearance of your betrothed stirred some concerns about your future and safety. Prince Aemond was a robust, polite, healthy young man and a prodigy in the art of swords; he was also a lover of books, history, philosophy and very reserved, especially after the incident. On the other hand, he was also described as easily irritable, intimidating, serious, silent, ruthless and deformed.
None of you were presented properly before the engagement, which made the following weeks strange, tense and reluctant, even if the effort to alleviate such a situation was mutual — shy and slow as well. You had not yet decided if he didn’t approve of your choice as his future lady wife or if that (contained, cordial and impatient) was just his way. Courtesy was not a problem until it became excessive as a barrier and you begged the Mother for unhappiness to cross your path. You were a lady more than suitable for a wedding, you considered yourself beautiful, polite and affable within your own limits, any Lord would be more than graced to have you by his side, according to your lady mother, and so you expected your new husband to find it.
Everything seemed to go well in the following weeks after the wedding. Even reserved and mysterious, Aemond was kind, attentive and worried about spending some moments of the day with you beyond duty, the construction of intimacy and trust was still slow, but quite satisfactory — in addition, your dresses and jewelry were more beautiful and extravagant than those of the other ladies. However, there was something that terrified you and your husband from the tip of your toes to the last hair: bedtime.
It was infinitely the strangest and most tense situation that your relationship with the prince experienced. You learned that even in moments where his were nervous and not knowing how to act he would still try to maintain the imposing and ruthless posture, but with easy-to-read nuances that revealed that he hadn’t idea what was happening. The consummation of the marriage was the worst physical pain ever felt in your life, although fast, it was extremely uncomfortable and unpleasant. The second night he bed you was even shorter, as a knock outside the shared room in the service of the queen hindered the hardness of his sword. Already the third time his own virility failed and served to create worrying thoughts about your lord husband's lack of interest in you. What if your appearance didn't please he? Or your inexperience? He was also inexperienced, it couldn't be that.
Everything got worse when your moon blood came and the realization of not being able to generate a fruit with his seed left you highly distressed. What if everything got worse after that? Rumors would certainly circulate about the prince's unfit wife and your fertility would be put in check. Such moods were enough to keep you disturbed, sad and ashamed by the previous and present days of your moon blood, until things suddenly changed when the week passed and the way your husband looked so tempting during the sparing session with Sir Criston Cole made an avid heat bloom all over your body. It wasn't even that warm in Kingslanding but he has never been more handsome and virile before, with his silver hair flying through the courtyard and his clothes leaving his delicious defined body even more manly.
What was going on with you?
You knew that the only thing in your mind was that you couldn't wait to have him alone later.
And that's what you did when you left dinner earlier and have a bold and daring bed linen along with loose hair for your husband. The cream-colored dress was made of the finest silk of lys and fell slightly through your body with long sleeves that didn’t close in your arms and left them exposed when moving. You were with your back to the bed and facing the door, anxiously waiting for the arrival of your prince.
You felt a restlessness composed of warmth and desire to go through your body and focus on your femininity in the eagerness for his touch, from the hands exploring your body, your breasts, for the intimate and carnal connection to be consummated. The reason for that was strange to you, since the other times you were together were nothing short of uncomfortable, but who were you to define the plans of fate?
Therefore, when the door opened and Aemond came across his beautiful wife in exquisite and suggestive clothes, his good eye widened more than usual. He closed the door and remained still, impeccable posture and half-open mouth. Your gaze faltered and faced the floor in the following moments, keeping the room silent for long seconds until the courage inflated your lungs and a request for low approach escaped from your lips.
"Can you come here, husband?" You looked at him again, anxious, watching him approach cautiously until he shortened the distance between your bodies. “I want you tonight... if you want me...”
An intense look and a stronger pull of air were the prince's physical response, remaining almost static in front of him. Would it be reluctance or surprise? You didn't want to be pessimistic.
In fact, for a moment Aemond forgot how to pronounce any kind of words and form sentences, totally surprised by your newly discovered boldness. It was a fact that the least developed pillar of your union was the moment of bed, but he thought that time and reading on the subject would enrich the occasion. But not that way, not with his little lady wife looking so tempting in her soft clothes.
The prince was oblivious to what he considered depravity. His only experience with a lady wasn’t planned and appreciated by him and the option to protect himself for his future lady wife was chosen. Unfortunately, the negative side of keeping inequity out of his life was to arrive at the moment of bed without knowing how to give pleasure to his lady correctly. He hated to see the discomfort stamped on your beautiful face every time he pushed his member on your walls, especially in the first copulation. But here he was and there you were willingly giving yourself.
Your steps were smooth and decided in his direction — although there was fear of being renegade — stopping when your hands landed on the chest covered by the black layers of his tunic. "If you don't want to, I'll understand," no, you wouldn't, you would freak out, but it was your duty as a lady and wife to comply with your husband.
Meanwhile, breathing seemed more difficult every second when he noticed the intensity in the way you watched him, a warm and lustful intensity that no other lady ever directed him. He was being cooked inside his own clothes in an almost maddening fire.
"I want this, lady wife," his voice was a few octaves more serious than usual, his good eye so attentive to your gaze that it seemed to pierce your soul.
Only that confirmation made nectar leak from your flower in anticipation. You didn't want to waste any more time, leaning against him, one hand remained on his chest while the other went up the uninjured side of his face, not wanting him to feel cornered.
“May I kiss you, husband?” You asked in a lascivious voice.
“Yes,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding the left side of your face.
The meeting between your lips was calm (inicially), firm and intimate. There was no previous shyness whenever a kiss happened, no, it was incisive, dominant and became increasingly ravishing and warm. There was urgency in the physical search for each other, making the kiss last longer than any other ever exchanged. It was everything you ever wanted it to be, as natural and ardent as a real dream. But it wasn't enough to satisfy your desire for him.
Moving away from your husband's silky and pink lips, you were quick to announce your next wish: "take off my dress, please, I want to do it the right way today."
The usual blue iris was nothing but a memory dominated by the darkness of his pupil. Aemond's large hands landed on your shoulders to slide both straps of the dress to the sides, removing the fabric accumulated at your waist to the floor, exposing your body in full vision to him.
You were burning, longing so eagerly to be touched that you didn’t want to wait for the prince's excessive chivalry and anticipated unbuttoning his tunic without noticing the approach of his hands on your breasts, making you sigh pleasantly in the massage received. It took a lot of effort to keep undressing your husband and not succumbing to his touch on your soft flesh, almost tearing off the piece and throwing it on the floor.
It was not appropriate for a lady to be desperate for such an activity, so even though you wanted to give the same fate to the pants that hid the modesty of your husband, you restrained yourself by analyzing and strumming his delicious abdomen and chest, touching his sculpted shoulders and long arms. His appearence was ridiculously ethereal and perfect.
“Take me Aemond, I need you,” you begged before capturing his lips again, moaning softly when he growled at your mouth and squeezed your ass with one hand and held the part of your head with another, feeling a growing hardness pressing against his stomach.
“I need to prepare you first, my lady,” he whispered hoarsely, now holding on both sides of your hips and looking away shamelessly to your femininity.
Maybe if it weren't for your rush you would have enjoyed a different pleasure that night, with your husband's lips pressed on their petals, but you still didn't know that. However, what he referred to earlier was already understandable to a lady like you.
"No need, I'm ready," you took his hand and guided him to feel your sticky folds, rubbing your juices gently on his thin fingers. After that you didn't spare time to get on the bed and wait for him, who was very quick to discard his shoes and pants to reach you with ferocity. Gods, what was your misdemeaning behavior doing to him?
The prince breathed heavily as he reached your body only to be rotated on the bed so that you would assume him as a mount. “I would like to try otherwise,” you said it with even heavier eyes, putting your hands on his chest to settle above his groin, his virile and thick masculinity rubbing against your mound, making both moan and hands fly at your waist when you rubbed your folds on him.
You have never seemed more tempting than now, with your beautiful body to total contemplation and disposition and so needed by the union of a man and a woman. It was said by Grand Maester Orwyle that ladies usually behave differently after moon blood and can become demanding about their husbands. Aemond properly interpreted the connotation used by the older man, but did not imagine that it would be such a drastic and needy requirement.
And then, deciding to end your suffering, you sat on the bulbous and reddish tip of your prince's sword, ignoring the initial pain and closing your eyes as you felt him stretch your walls so well in an overwhelming and indescribable feeling. "Oh, Aemond!" A breathless moan escaped when it reached his groin after long seconds. The extraordinary pain recurrent at other times was nothing more than an old ghost when you slid easily on its axis, moving up and down in an experimental and tasty constancy.
Aemond tried to keep his usual stoic feature but it was absolutely difficult when your velvety walls made him feel so good. With his mouth ajar and a heavy look, Aemond squeezed his waist in his clamor for him, taking a deep breath with the sloppy and needy rhythm that you established next.
You didn't know if you were doing it the right way, but you really appreciated the feeling of his thick and soft sword brushing against delicious places in your soft flower. It was good enough to make you moan continuously and scratch the milky skin on his chest.
Hoarse and strangled sounds were released by him during the shock of your hips, closing the good eye to focus on not ending early. He was still stunned by the walk of things since his arrival at the shared cameras — positively stunned. He never imagined that fornication could be so delicious for both of you.
Your eyes opened when your body signaled fatigue from the exercise in question, causing you to reduce your jumps and lean against his abs, almost lying on Aemond when purring so that he would take a position above you. You are not sure if it was the fluidity of the movement or the pressure on your thighs that persuaded your senses to the speed with which he took control and stayed on top, face closer to yours than before, almost making your lips brush. Before he could think about moving away, your arms wrapped around his neck and maintained the proximity between your faces. You wanted to kiss him, or rather, you wanted him to kiss you passionately.
“Kiss me, my dragon.”
The restraint that imprisoned Aemond's wild nature broke with the nickname he received and made him capture your lips in a dominant and fierce kiss, the kiss you've wanted so much since you woke up that day. His hips began to move against yours in a much more fluid way than the other times, fucking you with deliciously intense impulses, without roughness or softness.
He started another wet and sloppy kiss, sucking your lips before sinking his face into your neck and growling against his skin, then planting kisses. “Are you enjoying it, my lady?”
“Y-yes, my prince, yes, go faster!” You moaned and supported your legs on his waist, letting out an almost small scream when the speed of your impulses increased, numbing your senses. The nervousness of bringing pleasure to his wife was dissipated when all he could feel was the constant friction and the way you squeezed him so well.
Flying in wet and pleasurable clouds, you gently held the back of his neck and sneaked to smell his soft and well-groomed silver hair, purring with the addictive and extremely refreshing musk. His heart warmed timidly with your intimate gesture, caving your beautiful face with one hand and touching his foreheads to make love to you in such a unique and vehement way that it made your toes curl and a feeling bloom inside, developing with each push of his hips.
"Beautiful," he uttered contemplating his face kneaded with pleasure, "you're fucking beautiful, my lady wife."
“Really?” You knew it was, but you wanted him to affirm it from his own belief.
“Yes, a lot,” He was fucking lucky to have you. He should say that.
The tingling inside increased with his confession, building something you hadn't felt yet. Was it your dreamed apex germinating? The feeling that your friends elected as the best of all Westeros? He captured your mouth again in a firm but sloppy kiss at the same time, swallowing your lascivious moans and whining intensifies with each roll of hips.
His pleasure also became difficult to ignore, although he was proud that the act was being more profitable and lasting than the other times. Profitable? No, I was delusional.
The connection between you became steamy every second, causing your future supplication: "continue husband, please don't stop."
There was a certain affected region that made your fingers squirm and gasps of pleasure fill your chambers (and maybe even out of them). The recurrence with which Aemond brushed against that point amplified your pleasure and anticipated the hot euphoria that took over your body, making your sight clear and legs cage him when your high came devastatingly good and strong, causing tremor in your limbs and an absolute squeeze in your cunt around his masculinity.
It was the best thing that has ever hit your body in fact, and that caused the release of his seed on your core in erratic movements and an erotic grunt. The nature of the sensation seemed primitive, it was primitive, as a need that needed to be satiated more often. Your bodies were sweaty when he fell to your side with his eyes closed from recent pleasure, bubbling in deep flames like the Old Valyria.
A more than satisfied smile adorned your face with how indescribably good you felt. Not only physically, but your husband's performance softened part of your fear, only one part, the other unfortunately ascended in equity and sowed doubts in your heart. What if the sweetness in his words was only in the heat of the moment? What if he doesn't think you're pretty?
After a moment of comfortable silence you decided to risk it in a low, almost weak voice "... did you really mean those things? About my beauty?" Gods, you didn't want to look pathetic.
And he didn't want to be an absent husband. "Yes," he confessed in a hoarse and soporific voice, almost ashamed of his attitude. "I'm sorry I don't say that as often as you deserve to hear. You're breathtaking, ma'am." His good eye filtered all the reactions from your face carefully. “I'm very lucky to have you by my side.
And nothing was more radiant than your smile when he heard such loving and beautiful statements, daring to snuggle against his chest even though he had a thin layer of sweat. "Your words are nothing more than kind, my prince, I am very grateful to hear them," you began, "you are also a very handsome man," you smoothed the bruised side of his face with the palm of your hand, not getting close to the scar to scare him. "Almost ethereal if I may say," your face was close to his, looking tenderly before leaning against his lips in a chaste and soft kiss.
Compliments directed at appearance were never true to Aemond. Not that he received them too much after the incident, but all the rare times were false, regrettable and uncomfortable. His abilities made him a man safe enough not to care mostly about his deformity, however, in his interior of steel and fire there was a fraction that longed for genuine kindness.
"You are very kind, my lady," he said softly, his voice almost breaking, "did you like what happened?" The thought was almost all verbalized at once, taking not only you but also him by surprise.
“A lot. I liked it a lot, Aemond," you purred against him, feeling your interior warm and vibrate again. "If it's not inappropriate, I wish we could do it again."
That would be a long night...
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#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond x reader#prince aemond targaryen#aemond one eyed#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x you#aemond smut#aemond targaryen x wife!reader#aemond x wife reader#wife reader#smut
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older!johnny cage > listen up
you just can't seem to follow orders, so johnny explains them loud and clear... :3
warnings: you're a dilf obsessed freak and you get yelled at idk, he's meaner than usual, idk how the military works
[ masterlist ]
• lieutenant cage was, at the best of times, a strong advisor and wise man.
• at his worst of times, he's barking orders at the squad like a pack of dogs, not that you'd complain if he forced you to all fours, if we're all being honest here.
• some bat out of netherrealm must've pissed in his coffee this morning, and johnny was making it everyone's problem by forcibly refreshing everyone on basic commands. you wonder if it was just an excuse for him to yell his frustration away.
• "fall in!" his booming voice startles you from your trance and you're snapped back to your position, you and other recruits standing in front of johnny in dead-still positions.
• "ten-hut!" he calls, and your back snaps straight. you groan to yourself at the sudden movement, and lieutenant cage catches the sound. his head snaps toward you with a scowl. "no complaining or we're here til sundown, is that clear?!"
• "yes, sir!" your voice can only boom as much, far less trained in the art of... yelling at people.
• cage rattles on about something regarding everyone not knowing their lefts and rights, and decides everyone is deserving of a refresher. so, he stands with his hands behind his back.
• "left face!" you pivot instantly, the choir of shuffling around you moves with you like a strict ocean. "right face!" you return to your previous position with your stick-up-your-ass military posture.
• he barks the directions out in rapid succession, the crowd following it seamlessly... except for you. maybe you didn't get enough sleep, or maybe johnny's cruel voice was making you dizzier than the pivoting was. you stumbled over yourself, a beat behind the rest.
• you stood out like a sore thumb as much as you wished to blend in out of embarrassment. your wonky timing was painfully obvious against the crowd, and johnny let out a loud groan, ripping his sunglasses from his face.
• "christ on a bike," he grumbles, uttering your last name. "are you gonna follow orders or sit there like an idiot?"
• your lips shut tight, eyes forward as johnny stomps up, nearly brushing his chest in your face. his breathing stutters, and you fight every urge to not look up into his eyes.
• "you don't know how to listen, do you?" he growls, nearly speaking into the top of your head. "wasting my god damn time."
• "sorry, sir," your voice shrinks in your throat, which apparently deeply offends johnny today.
• his hand flies to your jaw, holding somewhere between your neck and your jaw as he tilts your head up, applying pressure as the sides of your vision blur out.
• "you're gonna speak loud and clear to me when you answer me, is that clear?" his voice teeters between a whisper and growl, eyes darting between yours.
• you wanted to be scared, you wanted to be compliant and listen to his order, but his hand was literally on your neck. this flustered you, embarrassingly easy and words were almost impossible. your vision spaces out, eyes wandering as you try to ground yourself.
• johnny tugs at your face, drawing your attention back. "look at me when i speak to you."
• "yes, sir," you choke out, a little clearer this time.
• his brows furrow for a moment, lip twitching in a dubious expression you'd never seen on his aged face before. "you're gonna be the death of me."
• you don't even get a moment to contemplate his curious choice of words, as his hand pulls away from your face and he spins on his heel, retreating to his previous position.
• he barks that everyone is starting over because of you and a quiet wave of sighs and shuffles heat your face. it was already mortifying to be humiliated in front of your squad, but you were berated by none other than your dilfy work crush... your boss. maybe you could curl up into a ball and die here and now.
• after a few hours of stupid, repetitive training you want to do nothing more than rot in your bed, ignoring the pissed looks of your colleagues. just as you're about the exit the room, a hand shoots out to squeeze at your wrist, nearly dragging you backward from the unexpected force.
• a firm voice states your last name, and you instantly recognize it as your very upset boss. you swallow thickly and try to put on your best neutral expression as you turn to face him.
• "my office," he says, though it doesn't sound like a request and more like a command. "now."
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Was wondering if you have any thoughts on the long awaited Hakuno(n) FGO debut? Especially the gender differences because they really amped that up this time around
Harmless is the best way to describe it. Nasu had so much fun with their dialogue without getting too lost in the sauce like he did for Ciel. Maybe I could do with less EXTRA gameplay jokes, but eh, it's fine at worst and legitimately funny at best. The senpai posturing didn't do anything to me, but it never got grating.
The thousand years of offscreen backstory for the deathbed Hakunos in the chapter was probably the biggest problem since the framing clearly suggested I was supposed to emotionally connect with something there, but we don't have enough information to know what. Surely this scene will become good when we go back to it after Extella 2 (I won't).
The gender differences are something that intrigued me because I never played male Hakuno so I don't know if it was always like that. What stood out to me is that a lot of the boy's lines have tangible "trying so hard not to say anything offensive" restraint. This shows mainly in the way he comments about women, but even outside of that, we have the NP lines contrasting the boy's peaceful "Don't tell Pieceman" with the girl's unhinged "Sesshouin must die".
Meanwhile, the girl is 100% the Hakuno I know in all of her complete inability to give a fuck. She's quickly intimate with Fujimaru, openly calls Nero and Tamamo her wives, makes boob jokes about Lip, and can look Chaldea's domesticated Archer in the face and say "my goat is washed". All around perfect. Iconic. Sesshouin must die.
Also, it was well documented in this very blog that I was 100% a Berserker Nightingale truther before the Enkidu line ruined my day. Thanks for asking.
#fate grand order#kishinami hakuno#i didn't even notice I had accumulated 3 different fgo hakuno asks#i thought this was just 1 until i reread the one i picked to answer and noticed the enkidu mention was missing
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