#oh and thanks for the tags and likes and reblogs.. they give me A LOT of motivation to make updates
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november-december 2024
(With a little delay because of you-know-what but here we go. Big thank you to all the authors who used their time in 2024 to produce things that made me have a good time, you're the best.)
ao3
rosquez
you look like someone I remember by @vanillow
I'm of the opinion that you can rarely go wrong with a time travel fic (and the options are endless) and of course Maddie didn't disappoint with that one. For a fic that's like, 50% Explicit, it sure still managed to give me feelings.
postscript by @kingofthecotas
Sometimes all you need is something soft and sweet and very domestic.
Lex Ferenda by @tartquez
I know I technically already recced the Bicameral series last time but we got a bunch of beautiful additions since then, so. Go binge it all is my advice.
learning to fly by @moonshynecybin
Go tell Callie that this is great and that we all need the rest 🫶 One good argument to read this? The enigma that Valentino is but in a good way, not a mean way (for once). And never fucked pre divorce Rosquez insane concept, come on.
#FF0000 by @le-chevalier-au-lion
First of all, the title of this fic is brilliant. Second of all, jealous Valentino in this context is a thing of beauty. Valentino's sensations (and how his feelings translate in his body) were so beautifully described and the vibe in this made me feel like I was with them at the club, ready to cut the tension emanating from Valentino's body with scissors.
the flight of a one-winger dove by @vanillow
Soulmates AU. Dialogue that just hit like that. Another Maddie masterpiece, if you will.
the laughter, the plunge by @yekoc
Fun fact : my reblog of the tumblr post of this fic was the last post I was able to reblog before my account had to take a forced holiday. But what matters here is how this fic made me feel : proud of Marc, hot, with a squeezed heart at the end (in a good way).
dovquez
here and now, undaunted by @le-chevalier-au-lion
It's Dovquez and it's soft and domestic and the banter works so well and is very them. 10/10.
nearly, nearly, nearly by @le-chevalier-au-lion
!!! This had me deceased. I was right there with them all along and the tension is so delicious.
others
the greatest thing we've lost (santi/marc) by @le-chevalier-au-lion
You know when you have to pause every 2 sentences to process everything being written because it's a lot but in a good way? Yeah.
Coterie (casey/dovi) by @tartquez
That moment when you fall in love with a side pairing even more than the main pairing of a universe (me with Casey & Dovi in Bicameral). It's just, they work so well together and I adore being in Casey's head in this and his internal monologue is interesting and the dialogues between Casey & Dovi always make me wanna scream. And they're obviously hot together but that's a detail at this point.
somewhat so outlandish (pecco/enea) by @vanillow
Swear to god the writers of this fandom turn me into a real empath because you can't imagine how much I was feeling for Pecco by the end of this. The dialogue is, as usual, chef's kiss.
these are the games of weekend (santi/vale) by @lestelledreams
Underexploited pairing as evidenced by Elle. Young Vale is always a delight and this works beautifully.
cannot dream of returning to dust (marcnaia) by @le-chevalier-au-lion
My tags on the tumblr post said "#‘oh’ in italics#like!!!!#‘They’re both very good at miserable. In opposite directions.´ !!!!#oh so much more" so, I will leave you with that.
get quiet (casey/vale) by @vanillow
I feel like I could enjoy any fic involving Casey right now but also, this was a very needed and mandatory fic after Casey's ranch visit. Their dialogue in this, the scenes on the porch, the way Valentino is written, the progression of their physical proximity, yes baby.
tumblr
rosquez
time travel au by @tartquez
black widow marc + agent vale by @tartquez
lies by @astronicht
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au thoughts by @moonshynecybin
gladiator marc by @vanillow
on vale re: marc's diplopia by @yekoc
dovquez
I wonder what's it's like to be so beautiful by @lastlatebraker
forehead kiss by @lestelledreams
model marc / designer dovi by @lastlatebraker
#motogp#rpf#favereads#the shortest list I've ever made#but I wanted to finish 2024 with this post instead of doing like nov-jan#like I've mentioned I haven't been reading much#we have had more diversity authors wise but I'll never deny I have favorite (my bad)
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Yet again, a million years late but I cannot control when I must burrow in my hidey hole
2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup
Thank you for the tags, my beloved @rosanna-writer @foundress0fnothing @yourstarsmyscars
Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!
(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!!)
1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?
This was my first year on AO3, and I posted 216,682 before the calendar year ended!
2. How many fics did you complete this year?
2, one longfic Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow and a one shot, Before the Night Ends, made specifically for my beloved @theseersgarden and some beautiful Elriel art she had commissioned by Lulybot! (This one may technically not be finished... we shall see)
3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?
Four in progress, all three parts of Velaris Memorial Hospital (which is kind of like one big intertwined Feysand, Nessian, and Elriel AU) and another long fic, A Court of Twisted Fate
4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?
Oh this is so hard. Everything I wrote was what I needed in the moment, so it's difficult to disentangle myself. But I do think Me, You and the Moon Part One and Two from A Court of Twisted Fate was one of my favorite experiences writing. Also some of my favorite things I wrote haven't been posted yet, so I can't share yet!
5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?
Absolutely Velaris Memorial Hospital. I have been writing third person limited fantasy and sci-fi for well over a decade, and have followed that in my fanfiction. Writing contemporary romance or modern AU in first person perspective was not something I ever imagined doing, but it has unlocked something in me. I am a huge contemporary romance reader, but writing has been an incredible new journey and I have so much newfound respect for first person perspective!
6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?
Again, Velaris Memorial Hospital. It is by far my smallest readership (which I expected, I am new to the Nessian and Feysand arena and of course there's a huge variety of ship and character preferences. Not everyone is a fan of all three brothers and all three sisters) but it has wound up by far being some of the most engaged and supportive readers, and I have been absolutely loving writing for it!
7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)
Hmmm it's a bit hard to say, I don't have have that many fics out and not a super good sense of this yet. I do think my Nessian fic, The Albatross has my lowest metrics overall. And writing for Nesta and Cassian has also unlocked something very deep and inspired within me. But VMH is an enormous project and kind of choose your own adventure, so I hope it gets some more love in the long run!
8. Who is an artist that inspired you?
Literally too many to count but I have to give the biggest shoutout to @elainemg97. Her artistry knows no bounds, and she is one of the best Elriel eggs out there. She is always kind and encourages positive fandom behavior, and is so encouraging and passionate about helping other artists grow and encouraging them on their journey! @stickyelectrons has such a beautiful eye for color, I just love what she manages (especially for Lucien) and I'm such a fan of @santkazoya and @tealeaves-and-rosepetals
9. Who is an author that inspired you?
Literally way way too many to count. @yourstarsmyscars, @rosanna-writer, @foundress0fnothing, @nikachansstuff, and citizenofvelaris are not only phenomenal writers but inspired beta readers and I feel so lucky to know them. @bloomingdarkgarden and @tealeaves-and-rosepetals are magic and pixie dust, truly phenomenal writers but also so available to support other writers and brainstorm and daydream with. I definitely have a lot more fic to read, I write much more often than I read so it leaves me pretty behind. But I'm sure I missed some and there are so many exceptional writers in this fandom!
Oh also, @tswaney17 has stepped away from fic writing but I'm SO excited for her journey repurposing I Do Bad Things With You into an original story for publishing!
10. Who is a new author you discovered?
See all of the above, but a special shoutout to @jasmineandcedar who writes such lovely short form pieces for Tumblr and did a Shakespeare inspired piece that had my jaw on the floor.
11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?
Before the Night Ends with @theseersgarden! It started just with @theseersgarden brainstorming ideas for a caption for an artwork in process, and trying to come up with a title/head canon/sweet moment to describe the scene. And then it spiraled into, wait a min... there's a whole ass fic here.
12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?
It has been really awesome to see how well received Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow was. I try not to get too caught up in what fic is the most popular and whether or not I'm showing up on "best" lists, because art is subjective, and as I mentioned, I think some of my best work has had the smallest engagement. But Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow was my first ever fic. I was a little baby on tumblr and thought maybe four or five people would read a few chapters. I had no idea it would take off in the way that it did, and it still stuns me to this day. Other than that, just writing consistently, and finding wonderful people who fill my cup and and are so supportive and encouraging.
13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?
Fic writing is super different from original novel writing in a lot of ways, and I still feel like I'm getting my footing in a lot of ways. I find myself very often coming to my fellow writers being like- does this fly in fic culture? Am I overthinking this? But I think the heart of all creative writing is the same, which is trying to find the joy and a build a story that draws readers in and it's just a beautiful thing to invite people into the visions that take place in your mind, even if you are still learning and imperfect. Because you never know what will connect with someone. Also, shadows make great dildos.
14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?
Don't be afraid of the work. Do not fear the muck. Lean into the trenches. I am a huge advocate for transparency in the writing process, and the writing world (fic especially) I think is extra guilty of uplifting the work that just flowed out of them and took no effort at all. Grabs face LISTEN TO ME. Your best work might be what you fought the hardest for. Your strongest scene might be the one that had you in a black pit of despair, extremely close to giving up. Writing is a craft. The only way to get better is to write, this is true. But many people write thousands and thousands of words and never improve, because of the notion that writing should be easy, that it can only happen when you are inspired and flowing and know what you are doing.
Do not fear the trenches. Do not shy away from the work. Not everything comes easily. That doesn't mean you are a bad writer or can't do it. DISPEL the ideas that writing should be easy or come naturally or not require deep effort and work.
15. What are your creative goals for 2025?
To focus back more on original work. I don't do well with working on more than one project at a time, and I really dug myself into it working on four stories at once. There is no room left for my novel writing, but I can't leave projects unfinished or they will weigh on me. Also continuing to figure out my place in fandom and sharing what I can while staying away from the things that drain me and take away my joy. OH and letting myself take more time. AO3 is an archive, the work will live on. Encouraging myself to be human and need rest and time away. It's so critical to detach from the need for a constant stream of validation, breathe, and focus on the work and your well being.
If you’re tagged in this, please consider yourself tagged for the game!
#will she ever get to one of these in a timely manner?#will she run away into the hills forever?#that's a secret I'll never tell#xo xo gossip girl#elriel fic writer#feysand fic writer#nessian fic writer#acotar fic writers
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a family bigger than 4! side story 2-3.
this part is a bit slow-paced, isn't it~ but it's for the flow~
time IS passing bit by bit during these "eps"
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / side story 1 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / side story 2-1 / 2-2
#oshi no ko#oshi no ko spoilers#hikaai#ai hoshino#hikaru kamiki#I think I'll look up a few interviews on this subject...#doodle#spoilers#drawing this makes me think more about motherhood ;v;)//#seriously these characters deserve much better#idk about hikaru actually;; but;; he was a good boy as a child.#what happened to that guy...(a lot.. but..)#oh and thanks for the tags and likes and reblogs.. they give me A LOT of motivation to make updates#idk canon may make him even more of a horrible guy later and stuff but#I don't think it should be that way with..; everything that's been depicted
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i adore the meta interpretation of genloss because of what it does to NIKI’S STORY. like oh my god she was SOBBING on the carousel until it was her turn to talk then she put on a smile and all she could say was that she was “nice”. THAT IS HOW NIKI HAS BEEN VIEWED FOR HER WHOLE ONLINE CAREER. people who hate her call her overemotional and then people who “like” her can only ever come up with Oh she’s so nice or Oh she’s so encouraging. then she’s just DISCARDED, just as she was during You Know What, and shot OFF SCREEN. showfall didn’t care about her because the fucking audience never did.
#I would like to thank this post and the people in the tags for giving me the context to everyone else#I do not know the stories of most of the creators involved in GenLoss and it feels like I'm missing a ton so this helps a lot#BECAUSE MAN YEAH OH GOOD GOD WHAT AUGH#this actually drives me insane#GenLoss#Sid reblogging
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the gambit —- y.jh
♙ pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader ♙ genre: enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, 1960s au, university au, chess club president!jeonghan, club member!yn ♙ wc: ~12.5k ♙ warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexism (it's the 1960s), heavily implied reader is a virgin, unprotected sex (that's a no no), oral sex [f. receiving], fingering, pet names, praise kink, marking, drinking and getting drunk, a lot of rude men ♙ a/n: this is obviously VERY LOOSELY inspired by The Queen's Gambit lol. give jeonghan a chance he's learning okay?? thank you to my army of beta readers: @haologram, @lovetaroandtaemin, @highvern, and @tomodachiii i genuienly would not have this posted without them. ♙tags: @seungkw1, @cherry-zip, @crab-ranjun, @myhimbomingi oh and happy holidays i guess (i wanted to have this out way sooner) enjoy! and as always comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated
Three succinct knocks rang out as you rapped your knuckles against the door frame. The man alone inside the room looked in your direction. Looking him over you noticed his striking features that were delicately framed by his black hair that was only a bit shorter than your own.
“Are you lost, miss?” He straightened up, “Sorority recruitment is across the hall.” He turned back to setting up the chess set on the table in front of him.
“What?” you asked, confused, “No, this is the chess club, is it not?”
“It is,” he didn’t bother looking in your direction this time.
“Then I am in the right place,” you took a few steps into the room as he looked up at you again.
“Girls don’t play chess.” he stifled a laugh.
“There’s nothing in the university rules against gir-women joining recreational clubs.” You watched him sigh and snatch a notebook off the table.
“Look,” he walked closer to you and held out the notebook, “you may watch”
“I have my own notebook, thank you.” You turned on your heel and huffed into a chair near a chess set across the room. The man watched you for a moment before turning back to his task of setting up the chess boards. You could only assume that he was the president of the club, but could not wrap your head around why he was voted in.
After waiting for a few moments several more boys began trickling into the room, all of them giving you a once over. Have these people never seen a girl before?
“Excuse me miss,” one of the boys approached you and sat at the board nearest to you, “I’m Minghao”
“Y/N,” you nodded and scribbled his name down in your book. You could feel Minghao’s eyes on you, but you didn’t feel as though you owed him any explanation. After a few minutes another boy who introduced himself as Wonwoo joined Minghao at the table.
The president announced that the meeting today would function ��tournament style” and everyone should get the chance to have a match with each other. Perfect.
Wonwoo and Minghao played well, but Wonwoo had a bad habit of leaving his queen unprotected and Minghao always overutilized his rook. In the end, even with a queen out in the open, Wonwoo found a checkmate.
Minghao was unhappy with this result and challenged him to a rematch outside of club time which Wonwoo eagerly agreed to. You were finishing up your notes on their match when two new men appeared at your table introducing themselves as Mark and Yunho.
The remaining matches went by quickly, you felt the president’s eyes on you every so often, he wondered what you could possibly be taking such detailed notes about when you weren’t even playing. Men came and went, all politely introducing themselves to you, clearly they don’t take after their fearless leader in any capacity.
The “tournament” went on for a few hours, your ass was starting to go numb from the chair by the time it was called in favor of the president, who peculiarly you never had the opportunity to observe. He dismissed the club and they all filtered out as you finished up your notes. You heard his footsteps approaching as you dotted the last punctuation on the page.
“So?” he started smugly, “Enjoy your observations?” he watched as you ripped out several pages of your own notebook. You rose out of your seat and square your shoulders, you shoved the pages into his chest and left the room without another word. He watched you leave the room, your skirt swishing around your knees.
Tearing his eyes from the door he looked down at the papers you left him. He read over them and quickly realized what it was you were doing all this time. Each member was written down and in detail you scrawled out every single missed check from each and every game played here today.
The bottom of the page reads “The President: ?”
“What are you doing?” your roommate, Cami, flopped around in her bed, “It’s the first month of classes, there’s no way you have course work already”
“I don’t” you moved your rook, not looking away from the board, “Remember how I told you I was going to join the chess club?”
“Yes?”
“Well the stupid president won’t let me play” you captured white’s queen, “so I’m not able to practice with anyone” you heard her throw her blankets around and the clatter of her hand hitting her glasses,
“What?” she hissed, “he can’t do that can he?” she sat up in bed
“I mean,” you finally looked up at her, “He didn’t technically bar me from joining”
“Look at you” she scoffed, “Making you just sit there and watch when you’re the best player like ever!”
“I am nowhere near the best, Cami.”
“Well” she protested, “You’re the best player I know!”
“I’m the only player you know,” you laughed.
“Not true!” she hopped off her bed, “Teach me.” She pulled out her desk chair and pulled it next to you. You quirk an eyebrow at her, “Seriously! Teaching is great practice plus you keep me awake with this dreadful lamp anyway”
You swipe all of the pieces from the board and begin to set them back up in their proper places, you set the black in place and invite Cami to mirror them with the white on the other side. Starting off you teach her some simple and popular openings. For as airy as she tends to be she is an attentive listener and is able to grasp the basics quickly.
You feel like you could cry, no one has truly taken this much of an interest in you, besides your parents and some friends from high school. When you first moved in with Cami you were worried she would join a sorority on campus and never be around, and while you like your alone time, being alone is a difficult task.
“And how do you win?” Cami asked once the board was scarce with pieces.
“You need a successful and all encompassing check,” you move your queen to trap her king sufficiently, “Like this one, check mate” you reach over and softly lay the king on the board.
From your usual chair in the back of the room you strain to listen to the conversation happening between Wonwoo and the president, who you learned recently was named Jeonghan. The discussion looked heated and Wonwoo was hesitating at the door frame like a child being scolded.
Jeonghan threw his hands up, exasperated, and turned to make a beeline for you. You fumbled about trying to get your notebook open and to a page to make it look like you weren’t just eavesdropping.
“You heard all of that I’m assuming,” he asked gruffly, “You’re not as subtle as you would like to think.”
“What?” you blinked up at him. He bent down to get closer to your face,
“Don’t play dumb, we both know you aren’t,” he nearly growled, “You were listening to that entire conversation”
“I was trying to,” you admitted with a roll of your eyes, “I couldn’t hear a thing from over here,” He backs away from you and makes a subtle noise of approval.
“You’re with Minghao today,” he said as he was turning to leave, which made you shoot up out of your chair.
“I actually get to play?” You blurted out, which caused him to turn back to you,
“Yeah,” he scoffed at your enthusiasm, “Uneven numbers, Minghao needs a partner, Wonwoo had to go tutor our idiot friend Mingyu, I guess” You made a mental note to thank whoever Mingyu was profusely if you were to ever meet him. Jeonghan took your silence as an invitation to leave this conversation,as if he had ever needed one before.
You glanced around the room until you found Minghao’s eyes on you.
“Hi,” You offered your hand for him to shake as you approached his table. He easily took your hand and shook it.
“Sit, sit” he insisted, “It’s an honor to be the first to play you, sorry it’s under weird circumstances,” he chuckles awkwardly.
You told Minghao not to worry about the circumstances, you were just happy to be playing after weeks of sitting around watching. With this he began the game, he utilized a simple opener and your first capture came quickly. This wasn’t to say that Minghao wasn’t a good player and didn’t put up a fight.
You, however, were hungry to show everyone here that you were not to be messed with. Minghao felt that you were two steps ahead of him the entire match, he didn’t understand how it felt like you were in his head and knew his moves. If it wasn’t so impressive he would be infuriated.
He didn’t even mind that you baited him quickly into a checkmate. He wanted to see you beat Jeonghan, to wipe the winning streak clean. Even more, he wanted to see Jeonghan get beat by a freshman, a wickedly smart and kind of scary freshman.
“What are you doing?” Jeonghan asked from across the room where he was putting pieces back into boxes, “I need to clean that up and I can’t very well do that when you’re still using it”
“Minghao almost beat me” You mumbled, not looking up from the board. You hear Jeonghan sigh and walk toward you.
“Almosts don’t matter in chess, you either win or you don’t” he swiped your notebook from under your elbow, “And you won”
“Give it back, Yoon, I’m not in the mood” you attempted to grab it back from him.
“When are you ever,” he snorted, holding the book over his head. You shot out of your chair.
“Give it back!” you attempted to reach for it, “I’m trying to find weaknesses in my game and you’re acting like a child!”
“Fine,” he lowered the book with a look in his eyes that let you know that this would not be that easy, “play me then” You blinked at him,
“Really?”
“You’re looking for weaknesses in your game, play me” he pulled out the chair recently vacated by Minghao and sat down, “Well? I don’t have all night." You took your seat, studying Jeonghan’s face. He has never been across from you as your opponent, let alone offered a match. He passes your notebook back to you and watches as you carefully turn to a new page, crack the spine, and scrawl out his name and the date at the top of the page.
You carefully move your first pawn, which in return Jeonghan moves his, beginning the dance. Your second pawn takes its place and you hear your opponent chuckle.
“What?” you spat defensively.
“Oh nothing,” he hides his smile with his hand, “you’re just predictable, you always start with attempting a queen’s gambit”. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you immediately know you are at a disadvantage, Jeonghan knows your game and you know nothing of his. He delicately moves a second pawn forward, “Queen’s gambit declined” he sits back in his chair, thinking he already has you beat.
The first capture of the match is in you taking his first pawn, he returns the favor by taking yours quickly. The two of you go back and forth like this for several turns. You realize quickly that he is very much your equal, he is smart and clever, but he plays rigidly and by the book. By the book players are usually easy for you to handle.
Jeonghan was different, it’s almost as if he knew your moves before you made them, and admittedly he kind of did. Not well enough, you were nervous in the middle of the match but now you were sure that you could lure him into a checkmate within three moves.
Letting him capture your rook was a small sacrifice. Luring him into a false sense of security letting him take this piece and your queen earlier in the game, so that your second rook could move to take his queen and leaving his king open. Attempting to move his king out of the line of fire from your rook only placed it in harm's way at the hands of your bishop.
“Checkmate” you declared. Jeonghan sat quietly, you saw the math he was doing in his mind by the way his eyes were flitting around the board, calculating his mistakes. You gathered your things and swiped them into your arms and turned to leave.
Fingers encircled your wrist and pulled you to face him. Judging by the look on his face he did not think before he acted for once, “If it means so much to you, I won’t tell anyone I beat you,” you offered, rolling your eyes.
“You’re infuriatingly irritating” was the last thing he said before pulling you closer and pressing his soft lips to yours. You stood perfectly still, shocked at the sudden development, Jeonghan didn’t push until you parted your lips. With this he deepened the kiss, his mouth tasted of tobacco, the expensive kind. His skin was warm against yours, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t entirely hate this exchange.
Tentatively, you placed your hands on his hips, your notebook falling to the floor forgotten. Jeonghan swiped his tongue into your mouth and you let him. He felt your fingers grip for dear life and tried to ignore the fact that the gesture caused his head to swim. He had the faintest idea of why he kissed you and even less of an idea on why you let him but he would not complain. He tangled his hands in your hair.
He pulled your lip between his teeth and it snapped something in you, you pressed your thighs together and sighed. When Jeonghan moved to plant kisses just below your ear you realized what was happening and pushed back against his chest.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You seemed to enjoy it.” he sighed pushing a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know what this is,” you picked up your notebook, “but find someone else to help you out next time you get hard over a girl beating you”
You shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of the fraternity house as Cami was informing the poor boy working the door who she was and who the two of you were intending to meet inside. Finally, after what felt like an eternity out on the porch, he stepped aside and the two of you shuffled past him. The inside of the house was nothing special, it smelled of smoke and sweat. There were groups of people scattered about talking and drinking.
Cami put a hand on your arm and began to pull you further into the house, “Come on!” she shouted over the noise, “I’m meeting him in the kitchen!” and she began weaving her way through the house, as if she had done this a thousand times before.
The kitchen was open and frankly dirty. There was a couple making out against the counter closest to where your roommate dragged you.
“Y/N, this is Mingyu, the guy I told you about,” she smiled up at him, “and this is Y/N, my roommate”
“Nice to meet you,” Mingyu smiled at you momentarily before turning his attention back to the girl he actually invited to this party. You were surprised, you figured it would have taken longer than five minutes for you to start wondering why you came here in the first place. You were starting to feel boxed in, the couple on the counter was getting dangerously close to exposing themselves to you, and Mingyu was whispering close to your roommate's ear. You could only imagine the filthy things he was surely saying to her, judging by the scarlet blush rising up her neck and the giddy smile playing at her lips.
“Take this,” a familiar voice cut through the panic, a small glass being pressed into your hand. Looking up, Jeonghan had a matching glass up to his lips, looking down at you expectantly. You followed suit and the two of you tipped the glasses back together. The liquid burned your throat and you sputtered a cough as you felt the heat settle in your belly. “Woah,” he stifled a laugh, “Never had a drink before, noted,” he filled up his shot glass with water from the sink and traded it for your empty glass. He guided it to your lips and disappeared down the hall, just as quickly as he approached.
The water dulled the burn in your throat. During your exchange with Jeonghan your roommate and Mingyu disappeared somewhere, sighing you left the kitchen to find them or somewhere quiet to sit down, whichever came first.
As it turned out, at a party there are few places unoccupied by people. You took to walking laps around the bottom floor of the house looking out for anyone leaving or a room you missed. On lap one thousand (give or take) you heard your roommate’s laugh cut through the dull thrum of the music from the turntable in the living room. You looked toward where you heard her, your shoulders slumped seeing Mingyu lead her up the stairs, cursing under your breath you stomped through the kitchen and into the first door you came across.
You plop to the ground and cross your arms over your chest, if anyone were to be looking at you right now you’re sure you would look like a petulant child. You’re not even sure why you’re angry, you knew she would end up hooking up with this guy tonight. Walking home could be an option, however it’s getting cold…and do you even remember how to get back? Don’t parties like this typically have sober drivers? But I’m not drunk…I only had whatever Jeonghan gave me, you thought, Jeonghan! You could find him, but how embarrassing would it be to crawl to him for help right now? He would use it against you forever and you are as good as kicked out of the chess club after this! What would have been the point of any of this if you can’t play chess? This stupid situation with Jeonghan would have been for naught.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you scramble to situate yourself in this damned skirt to have any semblance of appropriateness for whoever is coming through that door.
“What are you doing in the laundry room?” you could hear the smirk in his tone before you even looked up. Jeonghan slipped into the small room, which when looking around you realized it was in fact the laundry room. He closed the door behind him with the hand not occupied with a bottle of liquor and a cigarette perched between his pointer and middle fingers. Scooting back you pressed your back against the washing machine and stretched your legs straight in front of you. Jeonghan grunted while sitting down on the floor next to you, his back up against the dryer. He set down the bottle and two of those little glasses from earlier on the floor in front of him.
“There was nowhere else to sit…” You offered quietly. “My stupid roommate went upstairs with some guy and she is the only reason I’m even at this fucking party! I wanted to stay home tonight, but she dragged me out here and–and are you trying to get me drunk?” you interrupted yourself, eyes flicking between the contents on the floor and Jeonghan. He cracked a smile, not a smirk, a smile, at your question.
“No, Dove,” he chuckled sticking the cigarette between his lips, “I’m trying to get you to loosen up for once,” he brought his hand above your thigh, hesitating in the air for only a moment before placing it down slightly above your knee, kneading the flesh there. Jeonghan had kissed you last week, but this felt…intimate, not angry. Before you had the chance to yell at him he brought his hand back to his lap, “You’re tense.”
“Yeah, not a great night,” you pointed out, “And it seems like it is getting weird now,” he rolled his eyes at your addition and began pouring the liquid into the two glasses.
“Take another shot with me, will you?” he attempted to hand you the glass, “before I decide you’ve annoyed me too much for one night”
“No”
“Y/N please, don’t be so insufferable for once,” he moved his glass to his lips and removed the cigarette, which admittedly was distracting enough for you to almost give in. You held strong. Jeonghan clicked his tongue disapprovingly and threw back the contents of the glass. He brought his free hand and scrubbed his face, “Fine, let’s play a game.” he poured himself another shot.
“What kind of game?”
“Really that’s all it took?” he looked at you, his eyes starting to shine with the alcohol, “Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.” he taps the glass with his fingers, a habit that manifests when he’s thinking, you’ve noticed throughout his chess matches,
“You’re making a game up,” you point out nonchalantly,
“What?” the drumming stops for a moment, “No, I’m remembering the rules”
“No you’re not, tell me about your made up game, Yoon”
“It’s a real game…anyway, rules are simple, you ask me a question, I answer, then you answer. If you don’t want to answer, you take a shot, if we both answer, we both take a shot”
“Those rules don’t make sense” “Yes they do, who was the first LP you ever got?” you were taken aback by the tameness of his question, but you figured he was just getting started.
“The Blues and the Abstract Truth by Oliver Nelson”
“Jazz?” he scoffed, “Have you ever thought about not being boring?”
“Have you ever thought about being a decent person?”
“Don’t get unglued,” he rolled his eyes, “mine was Nice’n’Easy by Frank Sinatra” With that he tipped his glass back and emptied it, you followed suit and tried not to cough this time. He gestured to you seemingly inviting you to ask a question of your own. You thought for a moment,
“Why do you play chess?” you asked.
“My dad figured it would be a good skill to have” he shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the fact that the world chess champion was, and still is, a Soviet. I don’t really care about that though, I just like to play, I’m good at it.”
“You only play chess because you’re good at it?” you said flatly
“Ah ah” he tsked, “You already asked your question, so either answer or drink up”
“Fine,” you sighed with a pointed look in his direction, “My grandpa taught me, I always watched him and his buddy play when he babysat me. I learned by watching and then eventually playing, and beating, both of them.”
“Learning chess just by watching,” he mumbled and shook his head. “Gimme,” his lithe fingers took the glass from your hand, set it on the floor next to his and poured another round. You both drank the shot with no complaint.
The game continued like this for a while, Jeonghan never asking anything that stumped you, and in return he answered every question of yours. You weren’t sure what being drunk actually felt like but if someone told you this was it you would believe them. Your muscles relaxed more than you can remember in recent months, your vision was slightly blurry, and you felt a pleasant buzz in your brain. Jeonghan was slumped against the dryer and his head leaned on your shoulder.
“When’s your birthday?” Jeonghan asked, playing with your fingers lightly.
“January 2”
“Coming up,” he noted, “Mine was October 4”
“How old are you now?”
“22” he sighed, “graduating in May” You knew Jeonghan was older than you, but you hadn’t thought about the fact that he would be actually graduating, leaving. Something about that made you sick to your stomach in a way, but you weren’t sure why, don’t you hate him?
“I’ll be 19 next month” you mumbled. He shifted his body to sit up and look at you. His eyes were glassy and heavy, physical evidence of the alcohol thrumming in his system.
“Are you drunk?” he asked
“I have no earthly idea, Han” he smiled at the nickname. He reached over to cup your cheek in his hand, unconsciously you melted into him.
“I might be,” he mumbled, and even in your intoxicated state you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flicked from yours to your lips, only for a moment. After what felt like ages he connected his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, his lips were warm and he didn’t rush it. He held you as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, requesting entrance. Once that entrance was granted it was as if the floodgates opened for him. Both of his hands were in your hair and he was licking into your mouth. Jeonghan tasted of the alcohol the two of you had been drinking the entire night, different from the taste on his lips last time. Jeonghan curiously tugged at the hair around his fingers.
Butterflies, or something like that but infinitely more intense, erupted in your stomach. The suddenness of it all allowed a whine to escape your lips. With that Jeonghan pulled back from you but stayed close enough for your noses to still be touching.
“I think you should start coming to meetings early,” he panted. The only response you could muster was a nod, and an attempt to bring his lips back to yours. He pulled back against your request, and much to your dismay the wicked smirk was back on his face, “Y/N, are you a virgin?” You were taken aback by the question, you backed away from him and grabbed the bottle on the floor. You forwent the shot glass and just took a long pull from the lip. He watched you down the burning liquid before nodding, “So that’s a yes,” he settled back against the dryer and watched you flounder.
“You don’t know that!” you stood up, feeling wobbly on your feet, “Maybe I’m just being a lady”
“Woah,” he stood up and wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to steady you, “but it doesn’t really matter, I trapped you, even a nonanswer would have told me what I wanted to know, I won and you know it.” You attempted to hit his chest but the way he was holding you proved it impossible. He maneuvered you to sit back down, “Sit right here, I’m gonna go find your roommate and get you home.”
The walk back to your dorm was quicker than you thought it was, but that could be on account of the alcohol warming your skin. Jeonghan informed you that your roommate had decided to stay the night with Mingyu back at the house so the responsibility of getting your drunk self home fell on him. Serves him right, he’s the one who got you to this state in the first place. Your arm linked with his and his arm around your waist he walked the short trek very carefully, because he truly was not sober himself.
He fished your room key out of your pocket and let the two of you into your room. He blinked to adjust to the lower light, the room was only illuminated by the lamp on your desk that you must have forgotten to turn out before leaving earlier in the night. Moving further into the room he helped you sit down on the bed. On the desk there was a chess board with a half finished game set up. He smiled to himself moving closer to see that the pieces of paper strewn about were the notes you always take during matches with him. You’re replaying matches between the two of you he realized.
“Y/N” he called, tearing his eyes away from the pretty way your handwriting captures his name, “You gotta change.”
“Tired,” you grumbled from the bed. He moved towards you and attempted to pull you up.
“Come on, you can’t sleep in this” he begged, “Fine! Where do you keep your pajamas?”
“Top drawer”
He moved the short distance to your dresser and opened the top drawer. He flushed seeing your undergarments being housed in the same space as your pajamas but he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. He pulled out the first nightgown he found and moved back to you.
“Okay, undress” he was met with protest noises. He sighed and moved to the hem on your shirt, “I’m going to help you and then leave, okay?” he waited for your approval and then began lifting your shirt up over your head. He felt perverted in a way as he watched each inch of your skin come into view and then the clothed swell of your breasts. The situation was in no way sexual and he had no plans to take advantage, but he had never seen you in a vulnerable state before. You were softer than you often let on, something he almost didn’t believe.
He removed the shirt completely and moved to unclasp your bra. He hesitated only slightly before taking the plunge. He removed the piece of fabric and quickly, and unceremoniously shoved the nightgown over your head. Finally, you were dressed for bed and he helped you under the covers.
Soon he heard your soft snores and took this as his signal to leave. Turning out the lamp he pressed his lips to your forehead, hoping it didn’t hurt too terribly in the morning.
“Goodnight, Y/N”
The gentle sting of teeth against your neck paired with the vice grip on your thigh under your skirt almost sent you into a frenzy.
“Jeonghan” you shied away from his mouth, he grunted and chased you in response, “Jeonghan!” you hissed and pulled his hair until his lips separated from your neck.
“What?” he whispered, his eyes heavy and clouded with lust.
“The boys will be here in,” you twisted to check your watch, “Twenty minutes and I would rather not have them distracted by fresh hickies on my neck for the entire meeting.”
“And why not?” he attempted to connect to the spot below your ear again, “They might respect you more if they know you’re getting some”
“They respect me just fine!” you shove against his shoulder, but there weren’t many places for him to go in the small closet. His hand stayed gripped on your thigh.
“Okay, okay” he conceded, taking back his place crowding you against the wall behind you. “You’re tense again” a squeeze to your thigh, “let me help” his hand slowly traveled higher, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
All you could do was nod.
A flash of a smirk and he is wedging his thigh between your knees, “Keep ‘em spread” he commanded. His hand continued up and up until - oh - his thumb pressed that delicious bundle of nerves, separated only by the thin cotton of your underwear. He watches your face as you bite your lip, if he was a better man he wouldn’t be doing this in the supply closet, but the promise of seeing you unspool was too delicious. He’ll make it up to you someday, he promises himself.
He started with slow torturous circles, refusing to move the barrier. The touches are too feather light, you resist the urge to rut up against him in an attempt to increase the friction. This didn’t stop the pathetic whine from escaping your lips. “What was that?” Jeonghan teased, increasing the pressure on your clit.
“Please…” you screwed your eyes shut.
“Is this what you want?” he slid your underwear to the side and gathered your arousal on his fingers. Nodding you felt him slip in a finger experimentally. You bucked your hips to meet him, “Eager” he commented nonchalantly. The tightness in his pants reminded him that time was of the essence and he slipped in another finger.
You bit your lip to keep quiet, no matter how much Jeonghan encouraged you to let him hear you. His long fingers reached a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed with ease. You rocked on his fingers, feeling a tightness in your stomach begin to gather.
Jeonghan pulled aside the neck of your sweater to access a new swath of skin untouched by him until now. He sucked a deep bruise just below your collarbone as you felt the snap in your stomach.
The euphoria washed over you in waves and Jeonghan continued his ruminations until you came down from your high. Once you were more lucid, you noticed the gaping neck of your sweater. Your hand flew to where the top two buttons once were and gasped.
“You ripped the buttons off my sweater, you ass”
“Right like I meant to!” he began to scan the cluttered floor for the buttons.
“Well I don’t have the time to go back to change” you gritted your teeth, “This was my favorite sweater” you stormed out of the closet, leaving Jeonghan’s apology to die on his lips. What you didn’t expect was Minghao sitting at the table closest to you, reading. You clutched your sweater, careful to cover your new mark. He tore his eyes away from his book and just looked at you, it felt like he was looking right through you.
You open your mouth to explain yourself but the sound of Mark bursting through the door with Yunho stole the moment away from you. Minghao gave a curt nod of understanding and snapped his book closed. Jeonghan entered the room, clearly trying not to look flushed. You shot him a pointed look and proceeded to sit in front of an empty chess board.
“Pair up,” he mumbled, “scrimmages today” and throws himself into the chair across from you. “Take that look off your face, Dove” you blinked at him, not realizing there was even a look, you were just surprised he was willingly choosing you, in front of everyone. However, if he was going to act like this, you could make the meeting Hell too.
His timer clicked, he made his first move. Jeonghan was going to lose this match, you stretched your legs, leaving your foot next to his. You felt his eyes boring into your skull as you were making your opening. Your timer clicked. Jeonghan laced his fingers under his chin, it would look like he was thinking, but you knew better, he was trying to figure you out this time. He reached to move his knight and you trailed your foot up his leg, disrupting his trousers. Placing his knight down with a definitive thunk he looked up at you with widened eyes.
“Your timer, Jeonghan” you smirked. Click. Jeonghan watched your subsequent move, trying desperately to ignore the tightness in the crotch of his pants. You played it safe for a majority of the game, letting Jeonghan believe that you were the one distracted by your nonsense. You let him have some meaningless captures.
His fingers weren’t drumming on the desk, he felt confident. You captured his bishop. You could easily have a checkmate within four or five moves. You brought his bishop to your lips and hit your timer. You looked at him from under your lashes and waited.
Jeonghan watched the white piece rest against your pretty lips, what was wrong with him? You were doing next to nothing but the hardness in his pants was almost painful at this point. His hesitancy was evident,
“I know” you whispered against the bishop, “It’s just so hard” Jeonghan had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering. He made a quick careless move and hit the timer. Smiling, you set the bishop aside and moved your queen into position, “Checkmate.”
“What is wrong with you?”
The only sound in your room was the soft drag of the white bishop you moved across your chess board. Cami was out, probably with Mingyu, as she is most nights nowadays. The game you were playing against yourself was almost finished and you were planning to retire to bed or to do some reading afterwards. Even you had your limit on the amount of chess you could play in a day.
You picked up the black knight thinking to capture a white pawn when there was a knock at your door. Untangling yourself from the position that was comfortable until you thought about it you stretched your legs and padded to the door. You don’t tend to get visitors unless Cami is home so you’re not sure who this could be.
Swinging the door open you see the familiar shape of Jeonghan standing in the hallway, illuminated by the fluorescent lighting. He was dressed more casually than you’d ever seen him, clad in an oversized t-shirt and pair of shorts with the faded logo of what you guessed was his high school hanging off his hips. You fold your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of your lack of bra.
“Are you stalking me now, Yoon?” he blinked at you a couple times before pushing past you into your room and uttering,
“Do you really not remember?” he sits at your desk in front of the almost finished chess game, “Can I sit here?”
“You already are,” you raised an eyebrow as you took a seat across from him on your bed. Seeing Jeonghan comfortable and relaxed in the low light of your room was strange, but not entirely off putting. Almost as if he belonged here in a way. “Remember what?”
“I brought you home after Seungcheol’s party when Cami ditched you” he studied the remaining pieces on the board. Jeonghan doesn’t know when he started remembering things, like the name of your roommate, about you. He didn’t mind having you in his head, but he wasn’t aware just how often you were on his mind until this moment, seeing you bathed in the lamp light of your room.
“Wait,” your cheeks grew red and you felt the heat in them rise.
“Yes, I changed your clothes, no I didn’t look, but at this point does it matter?” His brown eyes gazed up at you before they trailed down your body, he realized that this is the first time he has seen you in your casual attire since that night.
“Maybe not…” You mumble, “But it certainly did at the time.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes and settled them back on the chess board in front of him. You watched as he moved the rook into position,
“Checkmate” he smirked smugly,
“I played that game myself, don’t think you’ve beaten me because you finished it.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at your comment and stood up from the chair and moved toward you. He stood in front of you and tapped your knee, you spread your legs so he could stand between them, you mentally cursed yourself for the automatic response. Moving in between your knees he ran his hands through your hair, he looked down at you, his face softer than you’d seen it in a while. His features were beautiful when he was concentrated and vengeful during a match but the soft moments between were quickly becoming your favorites.
“Hi,” he whispered, he could almost laugh, he felt so boyish. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Han,” you laughed, “you don’t need an excuse to kiss me, if that’s what you’re looking for”
“Okay Ms. Smarty Pants,” he ducked his head to press his lips to yours. What felt like lightning crackled between your lips and into your stomach, he hadn’t touched you let alone kissed you since that day that you teased him at the meeting in front of everyone. Partly because you stopped showing up early, and partly because he was clearly mad at you for the spectacle you caused. He had never anticipated Wonwoo of all people to ask him what that was all about.
A hand trailed from your hair down to your chest. You whined as Jeonghan took a handful of your breast and kneaded it underneath his fingers. He deepened the kiss at the sounds you were making. His teeth grazed your lip as he pinched your nipple between his fingers. His other hand was gripping your bare thigh.
He broke the kiss and grabbed the loose fabric of your nightgown and pulled it up around your hips. Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties he mutters,
“Can we try something?” All you could do was nod in response. He swiftly shimmied the fabric down and onto the floor. “Let me know if it’s too much for you, okay?”
Jeonghan sank to his knees in front of you, his mouth level with your bare cunt. He takes his time sucking deep bruises into your thighs, he was only going to do it once but the sweet noises you made in response were too beautiful to ignore. You felt the sting of teeth on the last bruise, and then the soothing sensation of his tongue. In an attempt to get his long hair out of the way he raked his hand through it and leveled himself with your heat.
He licked the first fat stripe up your cunt, the warmth of his mouth on you was a new and spectacular feeling. He felt all encompassing, you were surrounded by him, and you couldn’t imagine anything better in this moment. He flattened his tongue against you and dragged it through your folds slowly. Your eyes screwed shut at the overwhelming sensation.
His lips wrapped around your swollen clit and began to suck. Jeonghan felt absolutely high on the sounds he was eliciting from you. Slowly, he moved from your clit to your entrance and experimentally dipped inside. You filled the room with quiet moans as he began to pump his tongue in and out of you. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, you bucked your hips up searching for stimulation on your clit. Jeonghan pulled away from you and you shivered at the lack of warmth. He blew lightly into your cunt, a whine getting pulled from your throat.
“Just wait, Dove, I’ll take care of you.” He stood and helped you out of the nightgown the rest of the way. You sat up slightly and reached for his shirt. He looked beautiful with the flush of want on his cheeks and the sheen of you on his chin. He smiled down at you and allowed you to peel off his shirt, “Lay down all the way” he whispered as he pulled off the rest of his clothes. You readjusted on the bed. He crawled on top of you, “Are you okay with this?” You nodded, you let your eyes wander down his body and caught a glimpse of his stiff cock, leaking and angry. The tension in your thighs returned, nervous for this next step.
“Hey,” he whispered, “look at me”, your eyes finding his, “Relax for me, Dove. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”
“I want to,” you whispered. He smiled softly at you and pressed his lips to yours. He reached down and stroked his cock a few times before lining up at your entrance. You took a deep breath.
“I’m serious this time, you need to relax,” his eyes were dark with lust but ultimately serious. He reached to knead the muscle of your plush thigh. You nodded to show him you understood and tried to release some tension you were holding.
You felt the head of his cock push past your entrance. The feeling was entirely different to what you were used to with his fingers. He moved slowly, scared to overwhelm you. He stayed still for several agonizing minutes, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.
“You can move now,” you breathed out quietly. He nodded and slowly began to rock his hips. It was almost as if you could feel every single vein dragging against your walls. The feeling was nothing short of intoxicating, you felt so full.
“Oh Dove,” his voice was deeper than you have ever heard it, “you feel so perfect, like you were made for me.” His praises went straight to your core and you couldn’t help but moan. “If you keep,” he grunted, “sounding perfect like that I won’t last.”
He doesn’t. Neither do you. He didn’t expect you to, you don’t last long on his fingers, his cock was a different story entirely. What he didn’t expect was how fast he was spent. He thinks he meant it when he said you were perfect, he fit inside of you just right. Thinking about how perfect you were had him releasing hot white spurts of himself inside of you.
He leaned forward to move the sweaty pieces of hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss to your temple.
“You okay, Dove?”
“I’m fab,” you breathed. Jeonghan laughed and slowly pulled out of you. He took a moment to look at your spent cunt, leaking with him.
“Uh, let me get you cleaned up,” he stumbled out of the bed and moved toward your collection of bath towels. He returned with one and helped clean you up.�� He rummaged through your drawer, retrieved a clean set of underwear and sent you to the bathroom. He got himself dressed and sat on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair.
When you came back you laid back down together. You draped your legs over his. The two of you stayed this way for what felt like hours. You talked about everything, he asked you about your classes, how you’re adjusting to being away from home, and your impressions of the guys in the chess club.
Talking to Jeonghan was easy, much easier than your first impression had led you to believe. Eventually, you fell asleep mid sentence. Cute, Jeonghan thought. He was starting to realize he found most of the things you did cute.
He slipped out of your bed and covered you with the blanket. Before he left he slipped your ruined sweater from where it was draped haphazardly over the foot of your bed. With that, he was out of the room and bounding down the hall.
“Y/N! Wait up!” Turning around you see Minghao jogging to catch up with you. You smile at him as he joins you, “Where you headed?”
“The teaching building,” you jerked your head in the direction of the building.
“Let me walk with you, I’m going to the art building, but I need to ask you about something.” he gestured for you to keep walking. You nodded and began the walk, “So what on Earth are you doing?”
“What?” you raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to class?”
“No” he shook his head, “With Jeonghan” you had to force yourself to keep walking and not stop right there in the middle of the sidewalk and gawk at him, “Oh come on, Y/N I’m not stupid”
“I never said you were,” you shifted your gaze to the ground, “But I have no idea what you’re talking about”
“Yes you do” A telling silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes before you reached the front of the art building. Minghao stopped walking and put a hand on your shoulder, “Listen it’s not my business, but whatever game you’re playing better have a good reason.” he sighed, “I don’t know if you actually like him or what this bullshit is, but be careful,”
“Careful?”
“You’re a threat to him, Y/N” you must look as confused as you feel because he continues, “I’m good at chess, Wonwoo’s good at chess, Jeonghan is great at chess, but Y/N, you’re phenomenal at chess.”
“So?” you protest, “It’s just a club, this doesn’t mean anything does it?”
“The competition season is coming up,” he offered, “You’ll be asked to be on the team by the faculty supervisor, so will Jeonghan, and hopefully me and Wonwoo, but there’s the individual tournament to worry about.”
“Okay?” you huff, “And?” you try to see the point Minghao is making.
“Just…” he sighs, “I’m worried he’s using you. He’s never lost the collegiate division, Y/N” you nodded, taking in what he was suggesting, “You’ve painted yourself as a threat to him winning that title for his last year. That’s why it matters, that’s what he cares about.”
“Isn’t he your friend?”
“Well, yes,” Minghao blinked at you, “Doesn’t that put me in the exact position to know what he might be capable of?”
“If I’m selected, I’ll try my best, win or lose” You assured him.
“I know you will, just be careful, don’t get distracted” He turns toward the entrance of the art building, “And stop using the supply closet, you have more dignity than that” you feel your face heat up and you turn on your heel toward the teaching building.
If anyone could see the great asshole, Jeonghan Yoon right now Mingyu could die happy. He bounded down the stairs and took in the sight of the man himself with a sewing needle snug between his teeth, instead of the usual cigarette.
“Oh you couldn’t be more keen on her, huh?” Mingyu plopped down on the couch next to the sweater Jeonghan had carefully spread over the cushion between himself and the younger man.
“Shut your fucking trap, Kim,” Jeonghan mumbled around the needle.
“She has you sewing,” Mingyu stifled a laugh.
“As if you have room to talk,” Jeonghan ripped the needle from his mouth, “Cami has you just about as tied up,” Mingyu blinked at him, “Oh come on! You don’t need tutoring, let alone from Wonwoo, you’re not in any of the same classes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mingyu attempted to insist but avoiding Jeonghan’s eyes gave him away.
“Obviously you do, Y/N was mad about not being able to play, so you and Cami decided to take matters of my club into your own hands,” he began to thread the needle.
“You could’ve let her play,” Mingyu shrugged watching Jeonghan struggle to find the simplest way to put the thread through the hole.
“She could’ve earned her spot like everyone else” he muttered, “Besides there’s nothing between her and I so there’s no need to compare”
“You made the comparison…” Mingyu pointed out, confused.
“No I didn’t,” the thread made it through the hole in the needle. Mingyu opened and closed his mouth, not sure what his friend was getting at. Jeonghan claiming that there was nothing going on between you and him was almost laughable, but Mingyu knew better than to voice this, as he valued his life. So instead he settled to watch Jeonghan skillfully sew the pearlescent buttons back on to your sweater.
Mingyu also knew better than to ask what happened in the first place. He knew that Jeonghan had his own way about things, and this was more than likely an apology of some kind. If Mingyu Kim was a far stupider man he would point out the fact that Jeonghan never denied that this was your sweater.
You could hear the other members of the chess club before you even saw the door to the meeting room, there was an excited buzz spilling out into the hallway. As you closed in on the room you saw a paper hanging up on the closed door.
“1963 Collegiate Chess Championship: University of Michigan
Yoon, Jeonghan
Xu, Minghao
Jeon, Wonwoo
Y/L/N, Y/F/N
Congratulations and good luck!”
That’s your name, you’re on the team. You thought Minghao was potentially exaggerating when he was predicting the team but he was right on the money. Something akin to anxiety bubbled in your stomach, what if you lose? What if you win?
Walking into the room Minghao smiled at you, Wonwoo gave you a thumbs up, and Jeonghan was simply staring at you He couldn’t deny that he was scared of your placement on the team, when it came for the individual matches you potentially have him beat, he needed to play his best set of games in his career.
You took your usual seat at the table you share with Wonwoo and Minghao. Jeonghan’s eyes bored into your skull as you set up your board. Was Minghao right? Did he do all of this as a distraction? Were you really that big of a threat to him? You knew the answer, but that didn’t stop the seeds of doubt from sewing in your mind.
“Congrats teammate!” You heard the smile in Wonwoo’s voice before you saw it.
“Congratulations, Y/N.” Minghao smiled at you as he took his seat next to Wonwoo, “A force to be reckoned with, as always.”
“Thank you both,” you smiled, “congrats to you as well.” You stole a glance in Jeonghan’s direction, he was still staring. He was quick, he saw your eyes, and knowing he got what he wanted he slowly licked his lips and turned back to the board he was setting up with Mark.
Your blood boiled in your veins, Minghao had to have been right, he’s so cocky even with no wins against you under his belt. He must have been banking on you losing your composure, now and at the competition, so you determined right then that you would not allow it. You began to slam the white pawns into their places, earning you sideways glances from your tablemates.
Wonwoo pulled the black pieces out and tried to match your pace, knowing that your patience has run out, for Jeonghan Yoon related reasons he’s sure. The meeting is spent by you beating the boys in a variety of ways and shooting angry glances at the back of Jeonghan’s head. Jeonghan was stealing his own looks in your own direction under the guise of “keeping an eye on the games”. A few times he catches you looking at him, he attempts to soften your face to no avail.
After watching Wonwoo deliver a final checkmate to Minghao, you shot out of your seat and attempted to flee the room as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Jeonghan had other plans. He caught your arm and pulled you to face him.
“Congratulations,” he said softly after he made sure everyone was out of the room.
“Likewise,” you bit, “is that all?” Jeonghan blinked at you, clearly confused.
“What’s wrong?” He asked earnestly, “Aren’t you excited?” You couldn’t tell if he was truly confused or if he was acting again.
“I am,” you nodded, “what do you need? Or can I go home?”
“Right,” his lips pressed into a tight line, clearly no longer in the mood for whatever you decided you were mad about. He pulled his messenger bag to his front and pulled out a bunch of fabric. “I fixed this for you,” he held it out in front of him. You took it gingerly and unfolded it so you could look at what it actually was. The sweater he ruined a few weeks ago. A swooping feeling in your stomach took hold, something between tenderness and anger. You chose anger.
“Oh so you’re stealing from me now?” You snapped.
“What?” He hissed, “I fixed it for you!” He pointed at the top two buttons he carefully sewed back on. He looked like a petulant child if you weren’t seething you could laugh.
“You still stole from me!”
“Y/N you’re missing the point on purpose!” He whined at you, “I wanted to fix my mistake!”
“By making another mistake.” You turned and walked out the door and all Jeonghan could do was stare after you. For once he was at a loss for words.
You’re in over your head, you have to be. You have never felt so unprepared for a set of matches in your life. The day was going to be full, only breaking for lunch and then your schedule thinning out God willing that you get to participate until the finals.
You smoothed your hands over the new outfit you scrounged up money to buy for the occassion. The blouse is pretty, but the main focus is the new trousers. You have never worn pants to a big event before, and you’re nervous for the reactions of the men downstairs. Determined to exude confidence even when you were scared out of your mind you took deep breaths and practiced looking tough in the mirror. You could not, however, forget how out of place you felt at this moment.
You check your watch and mutter a curse under your breath. Snatching your notebook off the hotel bed you tossed and turned in the entire night you bounded out the door. Once downstairs you snaked through throngs of people, picking up bits and pieces of conversations about chess strategy.
You spotted Wonwoo’s head above various members of the crowd and made your way to him and where you assumed Minghao, Jeonghan, and your faculty advisor were as well. Your fingers wrapped around Minghao’s arm and he turned to you quickly.
His eyes lit up seeing it was you, “Y/N, hi” he smiled down at you.
“Hi Hao,” you wiggled through the last of the crowd and up next to him, “did I miss anything?” you look around at the people, trying to spot Jeonghan.
“No, we’re just waiting for table assignments,” he pointed toward the window, “he’s over there.” You followed his gesture and saw Jeonghan talking with the faculty advisor. He looked almost ethereal silhouetted against the window, cigarette delicately perched in between his fingers. You watched them talk for several minutes before you saw an official post a list on the wall opposite you. Jeonghan noticed as well, extinguished his cigarette, and excused himself to look at his table assignment.
The competitors funnelled into a line to check where they will be starting the day. You shuffled in behind Minghao, Jeonghan tucked in behind you. He was trying his best to ignore the new outfit and how good you happened to look in it as the line slowly moved. Minghao quickly found his name and moved out of the way for you to scan the document. You felt Jeonghan pressing against you slightly, clearly impatient and looking over your head. His hand hovered awkwardly over your hip, he ached to touch you even just casually.
Locating your name and your table you exited the line, leaving Jeonghan’s hand hanging in the air before he dropped it. He followed after you silently. Several other competitors were whispering about your outfit, he could hear them plainly even if you couldn’t.
The thing about Jeonghan Yoon was that his reputation proceeded him. Every person in this building knew who he was and what he came here to do today. This type of reputation comes with a healthy respect and a bit of fear. So the dagger-like glances he shot these stupid men were not to be questioned. To their knowledge it was because you were his teammate, none of them were aware of the affection he held for you.
You broke away from your team in order to find the first table, your opponent already sitting on white’s side. Holding your hand out for him to shake you could tell he was cocky, he rose to take your hand. His handshake was firm, an obvious attempt to scare you. Only you weren’t scared anymore, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The environment was different but the game was the same, and you were one of the best.
The officials signaled for the beginning of the round and you watched as your opponent contemplated his first move. He selected a safe opener; for the first round and knowing nothing about your opponent this was a respectable choice. You tend to play it safe as well, opting for your classic attempt at a queen’s gambit. The match went uneventful for the first several moves, the only sound in the room was several timers clicking at different times. Some players were faster than others, and you were attempting to take your time and not get cocky.
The same could not be said about Jeonghan across the room. He was the epitome of confidence, as he has been every year since he won the first time. Freshly 19 and on top of the world. He always felt like the first win was some unbelievable stroke of luck and then he just continued to win. He realized quickly that he enjoyed winning, almost more than he liked playing the game itself. Maybe that makes him cocky, but he didn’t care. He was making quick work of his first opponent, he was confident and playing defensively. He clicked his timer and watched the man on the other side of the table panic under his gaze.
Jeonghan watched as the man moved his rook across the board. He leaned forward, seeing now that the opponent’s king was unprotected. Jeonghan moved his knight.
“Checkmate.”
Your timer clicked as you gently pressed the button. The man across from you looked perplexed as the board was dominated by your pieces. He figured that this would be an easy win for him, figuring that your university stacked the team so that Jeonghan would have an easier time winning. He was wrong, and everyone else in the room would soon find out if he didn’t find a way to save his own ass and soon. He moved his bishop across to prevent you from queening your pawn on your next turn. His timer clicked. No matter, that bishop was the last piece protecting his king from your rook.
“Checkmate.”
Your name was on everyone’s lips as you moved to your next table. It was almost annoying, all you did was win one game against someone who needed a lot of practice in your opinion. They could start whispering when you were at least in the semifinals. If that first game was any indication on how the rest of the day would go it would be easy to get there. You knew Jeonghan was faring well, because once people were done talking about you they were talking about him.
You took your place on the white side of this board as you were at the table far before your next opponent. Jeonghan watched you from his side of the room, smiling to himself that you won your first match. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and brought his lighter to the end. He dragged on his cigarette as he watched his next opponent take his seat.
Jeonghan lost track of you at some point over the next several hours, as the matches became a bit more difficult he felt the need to focus. While he wanted more than anything to know how the rest of the team was faring, he had to win. This was his last chance, what no one knew was that he was declining the faculty advisor’s offer to continue his career after graduation. He was getting his degree for a reason, and for him the reason was to move on from this part of his life. So finishing with four consecutive collegiate championships under his belt would be great. Only problem here was, unfortunately, you.
You beat Minghao again right before lunch. Things were going incredibly well, much to your surprise. Minghao shook your hand, his smile almost cracking his face. The two of you walked toward the conference room where the complimentary lunch was set up. Jeonghan and Wonwoo were already seated at a table in the corner.
“The sophomore from Clempson” Wonwoo mumbled as Minghao and yourself joined them at the table.
“What about him?” You asked as you reached for the water in the middle of the table.
“Beat me in round four,” Wonwoo sighed, pushing his food around his plate.
“Oh so you’re both out?” You looked between Minghao and Wonwoo, “What about you?” You asked, turning to Jeonghan. Jeonghan shook his head,
“I’m still in,” he turned to Minghao then, “Who got you?” In response, Minghao smirked and pointed a finger at you. Jeonghan’s eyes followed in the direction he was pointing. He tried not to smile and pushed away from the table. You don’t miss the roll of Minghao’s eyes as he watches Jeonghan walk out of the conference room.
“I’ve heard about you,” your first opponent after the lunch break spoke over confidently as he sat down across from you. “A girl at this competition is asinine.”
“Well, I made it just as far as you so far,” you opened your notebook, “and I have heard nothing about you so might as well get this over with.” You brought your eyes up to his, refusing to back down. The man across from you scoffed at your bold reply.
“God are all of you people from U of M like this?” He rolled his eyes, “A bitch and a bastard, you and Jeonghan.” You could punch him, him and his smug face. You bit your tongue to avoid getting yourself in trouble, if you didn’t beat him, Jeonghan certainly would.
The match was quick, he was careless and sloppy, letting the delusion of confidence brought on by sexism carry him to a loss. You thrusted out your hand for him to shake.
“Thanks for the practice,” you smiled, glancing down at your hand. He walked away without taking it. You let your hand drop to your side, trying and failing to hide the fact that you were upset by his words.
“This is my next table,” you heard Jeonghan’s unusually timid voice at your side.
“Oh,” you shuffled to the side, “I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” He blinked at you, “Did you lose?”
“No, obviously not,” you looked toward him.
“Okay,” he chuckled, “then what happened?”
“He called me a bitch, and you a bastard.” You mumbled.
“He called you what?” Jeonghan’s eyes wildly searched the room.
“A bitch, but he also called you a bastard.” You reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he gestured vaguely, “that’s not the point.”
“Drop it, no big deal, I knew this would happen,” you shook your head, “it always does.” With that, Jeonghan watched you walk toward another table. He sighed and sank down into the chair that you just vacated.
Jeonghan was distracted for the rest of his matches, did he make you feel that way? He was sure he did, that first meeting you attended. The difference was that he seemed to light a fire with his comment, whereas this asshole dampened your spirits. Jeonghan could rip his face off, your confidence was one of the best parts of you.
He sighed, moving his bishop across from his opponent’s king.
“Check.”
The man moved his king one space to the left. This allowed Jeonghan to move his rook to trap the king.
“Checkmate.” He muttered, raising from his seat, ignoring the other man’s outstretched hand. He misses being challenged, namely by you, but he won’t admit that to himself just yet. He wandered toward the front of the room, trying to waste time before his next table opened. He caught sight of your concentrated face. He leaned against the wall across from your table and watched the end of your match.
You won, of course you won.
“So your semi finals match against Ms. Y/L/N will start in 20 minutes at the table towards the front.” An official interrupted his thoughts.
“What?” He tore his eyes away from you. “Semi finals is this round?”
“Yes, you and Ms. Y/L/N will begin in about 20 minutes,” he repeated gesturing to the table. Jeonghan didn’t stick around to chat.
“Y/N,” he snaked through people, “Y/N!” He caught your arm, and placed his hands on your shoulders. He was smiling.
“Jeonghan,” you nodded trying to ignore the feeling of electricity coursing through you.
“We’re paired for the semi finals”
“I am aware,” you smirked. Your last match had given you the confidence to let your smug attitude reemerge.
“Dove, please, nothing funny, just a straight up and down match,” he searched your eyes.
“Oh, Jeonghan, this is too important.”
“Thank you, I agree,” he exhaled.
“I need you to lose all on your own, not because I turn you on”
You watched Jeonghan fiddle nervously with his fingers from across the table. He was trying, and failing, to keep cool. On the other hand, you kept eerily calm, you always prided yourself on your ability to seem unaffected by the situation at hand. The breakdown earlier was a mistake you made in front of Jeonghan, one you wouldn’t be making again now.
Once you were given the go ahead you began your opener. Jeonghan felt his stomach drop watching your first several moves, you ditched the queen’s gambit, you weren’t playing safe. He had no idea how to handle this. You watched his fingers falter just slightly, you knew he was freaking out. He might know your game well, but you knew him. He was absolutely out of his depth.
The two of you were well matched, eliminated participants gathered around your table. People who didn’t know your name before today were watching in awe as you made moves that stunned even the man who’s name was on everyone’s lips before he even entered the building that morning.
He knew you could play circles around him, that wasn’t the question anymore, he knew you were better than him. That fact made him furious, and he had to figure out a way to beat you, and quickly because you pressed the button on your timer after claiming his second rook. His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge to make an uncalculated move. He could get a check right now, but he knows it’s flimsy and you could get out of it easily. He settles for capturing your first bishop. You always liked to use your bishop.
You calculated possibilities in your head, and then you saw it. You dragged your queen to the center of the board, leaving Jeonghan no choice.
“Checkmate,” you whispered, you weren’t sure if anyone but him heard you. The moment seemed to freeze, you didn’t dare breathe, just in case Jeonghan shattered in front of you. After what felt like an eternity he dragged his eyes from the queen to your wild eyes.
He rose to his feet and walked out of the room wordlessly. The crowd was silent as you watched him go. Jeonghan Yoon, the reigning champion, was just defeated by a freshman, on his own team. No one knew what to say. You didn’t know what to say, in all honesty. You just sat there, watching the door, willing him to come back, but he never did.
Minghao broke through the crowd and grabbed your shoulders.
“You did it,” he breathed, “Come on.” He pulled you out of your chair. He congratulated you profusely as he held your hand and dragged you back to your room upstairs. “Rest, recuperate, finals begin in a few hours.”
“Make sure he’s okay, Hao,” was all you could muster before closing the door and flopping yourself onto the bed.
“Stop pacing, you're going to wear a rabbit trail into the floor,” Minghao muttered watching you continue your ruminations back and forth.
“What if I lose?”
“Then you lose, that doesn’t take away the fact that you made it this far, beating the reigning champion to do it.” He sighs. You nodded, still not sure if you were okay with coming this far and losing. Minghao watched your opponent approach finally and wrapped you into a hug, “Good luck,” he whispered into your hair before letting you go and taking his place in the crowd next to Wonwoo. Jeonghan was still strikingly missing.
You shook your opponent’s hand and took your seat. The match started quickly, and rather unceremoniously. It almost put your nerves at ease that there was no fanfare, just a straight up and down game just as you had been playing all day.
The match quickly sucked you in, it was as if the rest of the room melted away. The man across from you was good, almost as good as Jeonghan. He was lucky that Jeonghan was paired with you in the semi finals, because you would have a different opponent right now if that weren’t the case. However, this would end up working in your favor, you’ve never lost to Jeonghan, so why would you lose to someone worse?
When you captured both of his knights he knew it was over, he didn’t let it show, but he knew. He knew that you had dissected his game as you were playing him, which was the smartest strategy a player could use. If you were smart enough to watch, learn and adjust as you were playing, you knew exactly what you were doing.
He was almost honored when he heard you squeak,
“Checkmate.” He held out his hand and you took it.
“See you next year, Y/N” he smiled. “Don’t expect it to be an easy rematch.”
“I would never assume anything would be easy,” you smiled back at him, “thanks for the game.” You turned back to the crowd for the first time since the match began. Immediately you zeroed in on someone that wasn’t there when it started. He was smiling widely. The officials prevented you from leaving your table. They spoke to you but none of it registered with you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jeonghan.
“Smile,” he mouthed to you. Camera flashes explained what he meant quickly, and you turned to smile at them while the officials were talking with reporters. Eventually, everything settled down and you were able to find Jeonghan leaning against a wall near the window. He once again had a cigarette lazily perched in his fingers.
“You came,” you called to him as you approached. His eyes lit up as he saw you and he reached out to smush the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.
“Of course I did,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Girls not only can play chess, but they absolutely should, they’re smarter than all of us anyway.” You couldn��t help but laugh, the most freeing feeling after the insane day you had.
“Finally, you see it!”
“Oh shut up, we both know I’m stupid,” you didn’t even have time to agree before he was tilting your head up to give himself access to you. He pressed his lips to yours, a continuation of the apology, showing everyone in the room how proud he was of you and not caring at all who sees anymore.
#svthub#diamond life network#yoon jeonghan#yoon jeonghan x reader#yoon jeonghan x you#yoon jeonghan smut#yoon jeonghan fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#seventeen fics#svt fics#svt jeonghan#seventeen jeonghan#seventeen x reader#seventeen hard thoughts#seventeen hard hours#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan smut#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan fanfic#bennie’s works
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NERD!MIGUEL X QUEENBEE!READER. NSFW DRABBLE - ‘Study night’
Miguel should’ve known it wouldn’t be a regular study night with you. He should’ve known it would’ve been something more than a study night like you said it was.
Books, pencils, clothing on the floor. You’re in your pink lingerie set in between his thighs. He’s naked on your bed, legs are spread wide open as you give him a handjob, edging him for what seems like forever.
He’s a whiny, sobbing mess. His glasses nearly falling off on his face as his face is flushed. You look at him, seeing him biting his bottom lip to muffle his whimpers and moans as tears fell down his face from his beautiful eyes.
You quicken your pace suddenly and he chokes up a loud moan, he throws his head back and closes his eyes as he moans out “I’m-I’m coming! ¡Oh-oh Dios! ¡joder! ¡Ya voy!” his hips thrusts up. Smirking at this sight and deciding he can hold on for a little bit more.
You stop your pace immediately, removing your hand from his overly sensitive dick and chuckle seeing his dick twitch. After a couple seconds after another ruined orgasm he looks back at you and whines more “why…” with a little pout you can’t help but feel bad for him.
You chuckle at him, “be patient, just wait until I tell you to come. you can do that right migs?” You coo at him with a small grin on your face. He pouts but nods. “Goood boy” you praised him and he let out a whimper, his dick twitched at it too.
You want back with your relentless pace but on his sensitive tip instead. His eyes shot open as his head immediately threw back, He was holding back whimpers and tried to hold on but the more you went. the more he couldn’t do it. He moaned out loudly, his hands grabbing the bedsheets tightly, his thighs tensing up, mouth open and his eyes rolling back as his hips starts thrusting up into your fist as he moaned out breathlessly “¡Joder-joder-joder!”
Before you can stop he came all over your hand and his lower abdomen, he groaned after his release and let out a whimper when you slap his dick for not coming when you said he could.
“You couldn’t even wait.” You scolded him as you get up from your bed he watches you with a pout on his face “lo siento…”
Tags! @ultravioletrayz , @safixiovi , @syler-griffin , @jadeloverxd , @rxckstarss (i figured you’ll like this!)
(nerd!miguel credit @nymphomatique )
Reblogs help a lot! Thank you and goodbye!
master-list _ guidelines/rules _ abt me !
#pxtch writes !#sub miguel o'hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel smut#miguel ohara smut#miguel x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara smut#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman atsv
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On the Horizon (1/?)
Summary: You've been pining over your coworker for a while now. He might not have realized but someone has. Pairing:Tyler Owens x F!Reader (with minor Scott x F!Reader) Word Count: 2.5K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, flirting, and asshole!Scott. Future chapters will be smutty. Not all themes are tagged. A/N: Thanks to @writercole for the summary and @ryebecca @mermaidxatxhear @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for their beta help. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.
Masterlist ♡ Glen Powell Character Masterlist
It’s sweltering in the midday sun and you wipe the sweat from your brow as you surreptitiously watch Scott work beside you. He doesn't seem bothered by the heat, typing away on his computer despite the stagnant air. It makes you yearn for the cool, controlled environment of the labs you used to work in before Javi recruited you. Although he'd likely tell you this weather was perfect for a storm, you're miserable. Meteorology isn’t even your specialty; you’re here for your engineering skills to manage the specialized equipment the team relies on for their data collection.
Perched on the tailgate of the Storm Par truck, you have a clear view of the other storm chasers clustering around Tyler Owens' red truck. The man in question emerges with a brilliant smile, and beside you, Scott scoffs, annoyed. He hates Tyler, and you're pretty sure the feeling is mutual.
"Ass," Scott mutters, returning his attention to his computer.
When you look up again, you catch Tyler watching the two of you. You know he’s more than likely looking for a chance to provoke Scott, but to your surprise, he offers you a wink and pulls down the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. Before you can react, he's turned to speak to one of the young women on his team, giving her his full attention. A hand rests casually on her shoulder.
You wish Scott would acknowledge you like that. You thought things would be different after the night you shared weeks ago, but he quickly dashed those hopes the next morning, ignoring you completely. He only seemed to look at you when he needed your tech skills or when you made a mistake. Your cheeks still burn from his last reprimand in front of the team, the sting of his criticism lingering.
Clearing your throat, Scott’s eyes briefly land on you before returning to the computer screen.
"What?" he demands.
"I was going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?”
"Yeah, you know what I like," he says dismissively.
When it's clear that's all you're getting from him, you push off the truck onto the dusty road with a soft exhale and head into the gas station. The air conditioning inside practically makes you groan with relief, and you take a moment to appreciate the cool air.
"You're not melting on us, are you, city girl?" You jump at the unexpected voice, surprised to see it belongs to Tyler. "MIT got you all wound up, huh?” He questions, amused.
"What?"
"Your boss," he clarifies.
"Oh, he's um...he's not my boss. Javi is."
"No?" he asks, brows raised. "Well, he certainly barks at you like he is."
Heat rushes to your face as you realize Tyler must have overheard Scott reprimand you yesterday after you miscalibrated one of the sensors.
"If you worked with my team, I'd be a lot nicer," he says.
You stare at him, unsure how to react to his comment and the suggestive tone. Before today, you’d barely spoken to him, although you get the impression that his flirtatious nature is just a normal part of his outgoing personality. Thankfully, you’re spared from having to figure out how to respond when the doorbell jingles and someone calls your name.
It’s Scott.
"Owens," he bites out.
Your lips part in a surprised inhale as he places a hand on your shoulder and stands so close that you can feel the fabric of his shirt brushing against your arm. Tyler's gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your face with a knowing smile.
"Well, I enjoyed our chat," he tells you, not bothering to acknowledge Scott. "We should do this again, sweetheart."
Once he’s gone, Scott moves to stand in front of you "What did he want?" he demands.
"Oh, nothing. Just...saying hi."
Scott tenses, and he steps into your space, cupping your elbow. "You shouldn't talk to him," he advises.
When he tilts his head to stare down at you, something flickers in his blue eyes that looks an awful lot like jealousy. You glance over your shoulder at Tyler, only to have Scott say your name again, more forcefully. Turning back, you find his intense dark blue eyes locked onto yours. For the first time since that night in the hotel room, you realize you have Scott’s full attention and that sends a thrill of excitement through you.
You bite your lip, the beginning of an idea coming together.
An opportunity arises to put your plan into motion later that night. Nearly everyone has descended on the only motel in town, but no one seems interested in staying in their rooms. Music pumps from Tyler’s red truck and another group grill burgers nearby. Alcohol is flowing freely as different teams mingle.
You spot Scott busy inside the Storm Par command van, completely absorbed in his work. From experience, you know any attempt to pull him away would be pointless, but spending time with Tyler just might. You linger at the edge of the parking lot, trying to muster the courage to approach the Tornado Wrangler crew. They’re sharing beers and laughing, but when you look closer you realize a lot of them are still working in some way or another. Lily has the inner workings of her drone exposed, tinkering while Dani and Tyler look like they’re securing something to the side of his truck.
Suddenly what felt like a great idea earlier now seems silly. So does your sundress and the time you spent making yourself look nice. Any attempt to enact your plan would mean intruding on their little bubble. Besides, you’re not even sure this hairbrained idea would even work on Scott a second time.
You turn to head back to your room when Tyler calls out, “Hey city girl, you want a beer?”
You freeze, eyes closing briefly as you realize there’s no turning back now. You’ve been spotted. When you face him again Tyler is watching you with a casual, expectant smile. He leans against the hood of his truck with one arm draped over it.
“Come on, we don’t bite,” he encourages.
“Not unless you ask us to,” Boone chimes in, earning a collective groan and playful slap to the back of his head from Dani.
Someone tosses you a beer, and you fumble to catch it. It’s icy and slippery. Tyler watches you with a raised eyebrow as a slow, amused smile spreads across his face. You’ve never felt less cool in your life and you end up looking anywhere but him.
“Hey…you’re an engineer right?” Lily calls out. “You wanna take a look at the wing here? She’s giving me some trouble.”
You glance at the Storm Par van, half expecting Scott to come to scold you for even considering helping the enemy, but he’s still inside.
“Tin Man seems pretty tied up with his work,” Tyler observes. “I think you’re safe to join us, Dorothy.”
You blink, both surprised and a bit embarrassed to realize just how obvious you must be. “Uh, yeah, I can take a look,” you tell Lily.
She grins, shifting back on her heels. You follow her over to the truck to examine the drone. Lily talks you through everything she’s already tried so far with Cairo and you ask her a few questions in return. After a bit of trial and error, you identify the issue. Thankfully it's a quick fix.
Boone lets out a low whistle, impressed. “You know, if things don’t pan out with the corporate overlords, I bet Ty would offer you a spot on our team.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, watching Tyler round the truck and draw closer to you.
“I’m a much nicer boss than Scout,” he promises.
“He’s not my boss,” you remind Tyler. “And his name is Scott.”
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he intones, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes it hard to focus on anything but the way he’s looking at you.
You let out a nervous little chuckle, realizing that you hadn’t actually planned for anything beyond capturing Tyler’s attention. Glancing down at the beer in your hands, you fiddle with the label until Tyler takes the bottle. He twists off the cap and hands it back without a word.
You offer him a quick, “thanks,” and take a sip. The lukewarm, hoppy flavor tingles on your tongue. You make a face.
“Not a beer girl?” Tyler asks, drawing back to give you a thoughtful once-over. He hums consideringly. “No, you strike me as a rosé-all-day type.”
“Actually, I’m a whisky girl,” you lie, grinning at the surprised blink you get in response.
“I must be losing my touch,” he confesses, leaning into your space and letting you catch the faint scent of his cologne or deodorant—something sharp and clean like the ozone that lingers in the air after a storm. “Unless, of course, you’re just messing with me,” he continues. “But you wouldn’t do something like that, would you, city girl?”
The way he stares at you suggests that he’s not just talking about your choice of drink. Before you can stop yourself, you look over his shoulder, searching for Scott. Tyler doesn’t turn to see what has your attention. He doesn’t need to, you realize.
“A lesser man might take that as a blow to his ego.” His tone is teasing as he uses two fingers under your chin to gently guide your gaze back to him. “Lucky for you, darlin’, I’m a big boy.”
A prickling warmth spreads across your body, and your jaw muscles tingle with a mix of embarrassment and anxiety. You must have been horribly transparent in your attempt, you realize.
“I’m not…I didn’t,” you stumble over your words as Tyler’s smile grows.
“The decent thing to do is ask,” he encourages. He cranes his neck behind him and you see Scott’s finally noticed the two of you together. “Better make it quick, he’s on his way over here now.”
“What?”
“You know what,” he replies, tapping your nose.
Panic settles in, your reluctance to admit what you were trying to do warring with your desire to get Scott’s attention. “Okay, okay, fine,” you relent. “I’m trying to make Scott jealous.”
You can see Scott over Tyler’s shoulder now, his expression dark. He’s second away from being in hearing range. “Tyler. Please.”
“Well since you said the magic word.”
He turns and in one smooth motion throws his arm over your shoulder to draw you in close. That seems to surprise Scott whose pace slows as he approaches. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest as you gaze up at him, acutely aware of Tyler’s body pressed firmly against your side.
“Hey, Scooter,” Tyler greets. “Want a beer?”
Scott’s cheek ripples in annoyance. “No,” he says curtly.
“Suit yourself.” Tyler shrugs. He grabs the bottle in your hand and takes a long drink from it before handing it back to you. “Nothing better than a cold one after a day of chasing storms.”
Scott’s nostrils flare and he utters your name in a clipped tone.
“Uh, I better go,” you tell Tyler. “Thanks for the beer.”
“Well, I hope to see more of you later, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink.
The second you’re within reach, Scott’s hand is on your upper back and quickly moves to rest at the base of your neck. You feel a little like an errant school child with the way he guides you past the rest of Tyler’s crew, whose goodbyes are decidedly less enthusiastic than their welcome. Boone glances between you and Scott, making a face that you can’t quite decipher.
“I thought you were headed to bed early,” Scott accuses as soon as you’re out of earshot of the crew. He’s tense beside you, fingers flexing against your skin.
“I was but then the Wrangler crew invited me to join them for a beer.” He doesn’t need to know you sought them out for your ill-conceived plan.
Scott scoffs, moving in front of you. He stares down at you. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time with those hillbillies.”
“They aren’t so bad,” you defend until he pins you with a quelling look. You know Scott well enough by now to drop the topic, even if his words don’t sit quite right with you. Tyler and his friends were nothing but kind to you tonight.
“Storm Par can’t be seen spending time with those amateurs. It’s bad for business. You should know better.”
You realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not jealous — he’s just angry. He’d probably be just as upset if another member of your team was seen mingling with the so-called enemy. How could you have been stupid enough to think talking to Tyler would make him want you again?
“Come on,” Scott urges, seemingly intent on walking you back to your hotel room.
At the door, you wave the card over the keypad and shoulder the old, warped door open. Before you can turn to bid Scott a good night a hand on your hips pushes you forward and he follows you inside. The door shuts and he plucks the keycard from your hands, thoughtlessly tossing it on the bedside table.
His mouth is on yours before you can speak, his hands grabbing at the hem of your sundress. The shift in his mood is enough to disorient you and you don’t resist when his tongue invades your mouth. The back of your knees hit the bed and then he’s on top of you, warm and solid. He pulls roughly at the strap of your dress, his teeth nipping at the exposed skin. When you feel his hand land on your inner thigh you push at his chest.
“Wait, Scott,” you breathe. This feels nothing like your last time together.
He pulls back, a tick in his jaw as he stares down at you. “It's been a long day,” he says, “and we both know you want this.”
You do want him, more than anything, but there’s something about his tone and words that dredge up an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. It makes your skin prickle, and you avert your gaze, suddenly uncertain. Above you, Scott sighs, and you feel his fingertips gently touch your jaw. You think of Tyler suddenly, his teasing tone and the amusement in his green eyes. When you look back at Scott, his unreadable blue eyes meet yours.
The bed creaks as he shifts back. “I can just go,” he offers.
“No, please don’t.” The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve spoken. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. Scott’s the kind of man you always dreamed about, handsome and intelligent – one of those Ivy League boys who never looked twice at you in college.
“Good answer,” he says with a smile.
You pull him closer, and as his lips find yours once more, the lingering discomfort fades away. You’re finally getting what you’ve wanted.
Aren’t you?
Part 2
♡
I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.
#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens x you#tyler owens#twisters#scott miller x reader#scott miller x you#scott twisters
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🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs
This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.
I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨
Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers
@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore
@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy
@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world
@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again
@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up
@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!
@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it
@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done
@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!
@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn
@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now
@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹
@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??
@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine
@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩
…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read
@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader
~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson au#eddie x reader
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△ . smiles . △
synopsis: You're a dashing citizen of the Xianzhou, and a frequent customer at Jiaoqiu's noodle stall. Although you're used to spice, you aren't prepared for how heated things get when a certain blue-haired con man enters the scene. Alternatively: Jiaoqiu and Sampo fight over you. tags: fem!reader, jiaoqiu/reader, sampo/reader, jing yuan/reader but he comes at the very end, no smut, 2k words a/n: teehee, they have such similar smiles. dangerous men with disarming smiles. comments and reblogs are appreciated!
ao3 link here!
You watch as the pink-haired Foxian in front of you stirs his ramen pot, his movements graceful and practiced. Jiaoqiu ladles the broth into a deep bowl, then collects some cold rice noodles from another bowl to the side. He stirs the noodles into the bowl gently, letting the broth heat up and cook the noodles, then slides the bowl of noodles across the counter to you.
"Just as you usually enjoy it, m'lady." He bows, smiling charmingly at you as he does.
"Thank you, Jiao," you say, pulling the bowl towards yourself. The steam of the broth wafts up to you, hot and heavy, giving you a taste of what’s to come. Just as you raise a clump of noodles to your lips with your chopsticks, someone slides into the seat besides yours. Someone dangerously familiar.
"Well, well, well. Look who we have here!"
"If it isn't Sampo Koski," you say, lowering your chopsticks.
"The one and only! You know it, baby." Sampo grins. "And don't you look absolutely ravishing today, miss." He picks your hand up and kisses the back of it, earning himself a giggle from you. "How has this beautiful lady been?"
You shrug, giving him the usual answer. Fine, good, nothing much has happened in your life. And Sampo isn't the type you'd share juicy gossip with anyway. He’s prone to selling that kind of information off if it suits him.
"I didn't expect to see you here in the Xianzhou," you say.
"My business takes me places. You know how it is." He winks.
Just as you’re about to mention how thick he’s laying it on, a loud crack startles you both. Jiaoqiu has slapped his hand fan on the counter.
"And will you be ordering, sir?"
"Oh, yes, of course. You wouldn't catch old Sampo Koski loitering around, bringing bad business."
The two men grin at each other, charming smiles all around, although you can feel a charge in the air. Their smiles are a little colder than you've seen them before.
"I'll have what she's having," Sampo says, pointing to you.
"Oh, be careful Sampo," you say, "his noodles are really spicy."
"Oh don't you worry your pretty little head," Sampo chuckles. "I'm a man, I can handle a little spice."
"And besides," he continues, leaning in and whispering, "this guy doesn't scare me one bit. He might be all bark but I doubt he's got a lot of bite, even in his food."
The two of you chuckle, but you watch Jiaoqiu's ears flick in annoyance. Sampo’s digging himself a deep hole.
In fact, one could call it a grave.
"Here you go, sir," Jiaoqiu says, passing a bowl of noodles to Sampo. "Please enjoy as much as you can."
"We'll take a bite together then," Sampo says to you, as the two of you raise your noodles from your bowls. "Three, two, one."
You slurp up your noodles, and let out a small moan. Heavenly. You expected nothing less from Jiaoqiu, of course, but the taste of his noodles never got boring. It’s rich, sweet, and deep, with a tingle of spice, as you always prefer. Jiaoqiu only kept his noodle stall open for a few hours a day but you made sure to mark the times and get yourself a helping whenever you felt like it. You smile up at him.
"Amazing as always, Jiao."
"You flatter me too much," Jiaoqiu says, fanning himself.
You hear sudden coughing at your side, and you turn to find Sampo hacking away, his face red.
"Sampo! Are you okay?" you ask.
"I-I'm fine, miss," he wheezes. "It's just a little...spicy is all."
"Oh—" you turn to look at Jiaoqiu, who’s hiding the lower half of his face behind his handfan, watching Sampo flounder with slitted pupils. You look back at Sampo, making no remark.
"This—" Sampo coughs again, "—this is a lot of spice."
"Only as much as hers," Jiaoqiu says, gesturing to your own bowl. "You asked for what she had and I gave it to you."
You slurp up your own noodles, and Sampo watches as you swallow with no reaction.
"If you're as much of a man as you claim to be, I think you should be able to handle what she's eating with no problem," Jiaoqiu continues.
"I can, yeah. This is nothing." Sampo grins at you, although you can see his eyebrows furrowing together. You only nod at him, then glance at Jiaoqiu as if to say how could you? Jiaoqiu only winks at you as Sampo musters up the courage to take another bite.
The rest of lunch you enjoy in silence, as Sampo is too busy wrestling with the spice he was given to make any further conversation, and Jiaoqiu isn't one for small talk. To Sampo's credit, he manages to finish the bowl, and by the end of it he looks as though he’s been through war. The two of you leave the stall together as Jiaoqiu closes up, and you notice Sampo giving the Foxian a dirty look.
△ △ △
It was only a few days later you found yourself in Aurum Alley, perusing the wares. A flash of soft pink catches your eye, and you turn to find Jiaoqiu wandering towards you, fan in hand.
"Fancy seeing you here," he purrs.
"Jiaoqiu? I thought you'd be managing your stall," you say. It isn’t yet the time for him to close.
"I would be, yes." Jiaoqiu flaps his handfan rapidly in front of his face, a sign of irritation.
"Apparently my supplier for the peppers I use in my cooking ran into a bit of an issue. They made a… ‘bad trade.’ All of their peppers are inedible. Therefore, I have nothing to make my noodles with."
"I see," you muse. The situation he described rings a bell, yet you can’t place your finger on it. "That's unfortunate."
"They'll have a new shipment by the next week. I trust they won't make the same mistake again." Jiaoqiu stares off into the distance, anger bubbling under his lidded gaze. But the show of annoyance is shrugged off almost as fast as it came, and he turns to you with his trademark smile.
"Anyway, I won't bother you with unpleasant details." He offers his elbow to you. "Shall we take a stroll?"
You hook your arm in it, smiling at him.
"Where are you going?" A voice comes from behind you, and both of you turn to find Sampo standing as though he'd been there the whole time, hands behind his back.
"Sampo!" you exclaim. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Jiaoqiu flatten his ears.
"Sorry if I scared you," Sampo smiles apologetically. "I was just too excited to see you."
"And look!" He brandishes a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, handing them to you. "I got these for you~"
"Oh, you shouldn't have," you say, taking them. Behind you, Jiaoqiu's tail thrashes from side to side.
"Oh, but who could resist giving such a lovely lady as yourself equally lovely flowers?" Sampo bows, then straightens.
"I see your companion has yet to give you anything.” Sampo turns towards Jiaoqiu. "Not very thoughtful of you, I must say.”
"I was about to take her on a stroll when you so rudely interrupted us." Jiaoqiu glares—glares—at Sampo.
"Really? That reminds me, aren't you supposed to be managing your stall right about now? Run into any... mishaps?" Sampo leans in, a challenging look in his eyes that is at odds with his placid expression.
"It's none of your business." The way Jiaoqiu waves his fan makes you worried he might break his wrist.
Sampo puts his arms up in mock surrender, then turns to you.
“Well, since I got you the flowers, you wanna go out on a walk with me?”
“I asked her first! And she accepted,” Jiaoqiu protests.
“But clearly I have more merit behind my offer,” Sampo argues.
“How about the two of you go out on a walk with me,” you say, getting in between them.
The two men look slightly miserable as they walk you down Aurum Alley. Of course, they don’t want to both be walking you but they can’t say no to your face, so here you all are. Being sandwiched between two attractive men, however, you can’t complain.
“Oh!” you gasp, breaking away from them to look at a food stall. “I’m really craving some skewers right now.”
“Consider them bought,” Jiaoqiu smiles. As he moves forward, Sampo stands in his way.
“I’ll buy you two,” Sampo offers you.
“I’ll buy you as much as you want, m’lady,” Jiaoqiu says, but it feels like he isn’t talking to you directly. The two of them are locked in a death stare with each other.
“Err… you can buy them for me Jiaoqiu,” you say. “I’ll make good on your offer later, Sampo.”
Jiaoqiu smirks at Sampo as he moves past him, but thankfully Sampo seems placated enough by your words to let him pass. You keep a laugh to yourself. Out of all the things, you didn’t think you’d ever have to stop Sampo from spending money on you.
Jiaoqiu comes back with the skewers, and you eat them quietly, savoring their sweet taste. The three of you keep walking down Aurum Alley, with you trying to keep the peace between the two men at your sides. They’re proving to be a lot more trouble than you had bargained for.
As the three of you come to the end of Aurum Alley, Jiaoqiu produces a small box from his pocket.
“You know, I don’t want us to continue on bad terms, Mr. Sampo. Accept this as a peace offering from me.”
Sampo raises an eyebrow at him, scrutinizing the box in his hands. Carefully, he decides to open it.
“You don’t trust me? I’m heartbroken,” Jiaoqiu puts a hand over his heart in mock shock.
“I’m sure you can forgive me for my suspicion,” Sampo says, pulling a small bottle out of the box.
“It’s only perfume. A gentleman of your caliber must be interested in such things.”
“Of course,” Sampo says, pocketing the bottle. “I appreciate your act of goodwill. Consider our slate cleaned.”
They smile at each other, and you’re certain that they’re now amicable.
△ △ △
The next day, however, you hear a knock on your door. You open it to find Sampo. You aren’t sure how he knows where you live, but your immediate concern is less on what he knows and more on how his eyes are red and tearing, and the expression on his face of deep anger.
“Where is that fox?” he asks.
You shake your head, letting him through. He splashes water on his face, and on his neck.
“What happened to you?” you ask.
“It’s that damn ‘perfume’ he gave me. Or rather, pepper spray.” He splashes water on his face again. “Peace offering, my ass.”
You move your hand up to your face in shock. After a lot of washing and rubbing, he removes enough of the spray, and stands up. You hand him a towel to dry off with.
“Now, darling, if you’d be so kind to tell me where he lives.”
“I honestly have no clue,” you say, and you’re speaking the truth. You only ever see Jiaoqiu either at his stall, or throughout the Xianzhou. With him being unable to sell ramen for the next few days, you don’t know of a place where you’d be able to find him reliably.
“That’s okay, I’ll find him myself. You wouldn’t want to watch us anyway. It’s going to get real nasty.”
Sampo smiles at you, and then walks out of the house, the door clicking shut behind him. You groan, putting a palm on your forehead.
△ △ △
For the next few days, neither man interacts with you. Whenever one gets close enough, the other would immediately sabotage him, leaving you to witness a fight out of the corner of your eye. For two non-confrontational men, it surprises you. You didn’t expect them to behave this way.
Regardless, you go on about your day, ignoring them. You aren’t one for ungentlemanly behavior.
One day, you receive a knock at your door. You open it to find both Sampo and Jiaoqiu standing behind it.
“Miss, we need you to decide,” Sampo says.
“Which one of us would you go out with?” Jiaoqiu finishes.
You look between them.
“Well, you see—” you start.
“The young lady is already spoken for tonight,” a deep voice rumbles behind them.
Sampo and Jiaoqiu turn around to find Jing Yuan. Immediately they straighten.
“Oh, I see.” Jiaoqiu says, fixing a peaceful smile on his face and bowing. “My apologies, general.” Sampo, not to be outdone, bows as well.
When the two stand back up, the general nods to each of them, smiling politely.
You observe all three men with deceptively gentle smiles on their faces, and realize that you have a very strong type. With a sigh, you step out the door and take the general’s hand, and the two of you walk into the night.
dividers by @cafekitsune !
images by daily sampo, daily jiaoqiu, and daily jing yuan
comments are appreciated! <3
#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail fanfiction#hsr jiaoqiu#hsr sampo#honkai star rail sampo#honkai star rail jiaoqiu#jiaoqiu#sampo#sampo koski#honkai star rail fic#hsr fic#sampo honkai star rail#jiaoqiu honkai star rail#jiaoqiu hsr#sampo hsr#jing yuan hsr#jiaoqiu x reader#sampo x reader#fem reader#honkai star rail#hsr#sampo fanfiction#jiaoqiu fanfiction#fanfictions. ✧
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PRINCE GOJO LOVES WHO?!
tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), NEW MALE CHARACTER!, bully!gojo, gojo gets so jealous, love (ish)-hate relationship, gojos so confusing, ANGST, royalty, arranged marriage, forbidden love, lots of tension, smut-ish (intense kissing + grinding), cheating (guys don’t ever cheat) mdni.
w.c: 2.7k
a/n: sorry for the late update 😥 got lazy 🫣 but thank u guys so much for the support! It means a lot! + likes/ reblogs are very appreciative 💆🏽♀️
read part 2 here!
you wake up in an unfamiliar room, the soft mattress beneath you swallowing you deeper as you open your eyes. your body aches, you look under the cover to see the formal gown from last night’s dinner.
oh. the dinner.
your heart sinks as you recall the events. ayana had set you up, and gojo... he had brought you to his room and kissed you.
how could gojo treat me like this for years, kiss me, and then continue to torment me? you shift on the king-sized bed, relieved to find you’re alone.
you wince as you get up, the tight corset beneath your gown causing discomfort. you walk to the balcony, the view similar to yours but from many floors above.
opening the double balcony doors, you step closer to the railing and look down. you recognize your parents and gojo's among the guests. there are a few others, can’t seem to recognize their faces. who could they be? did my father invite them?
“how did you sleep?”
you close your eyes in annoyance, he’s the last person you want to see right now.
“i slept fine,” you say, not turning around to look at him. he can sense your irritation. “i shouldn’t overstay my time here, so i will go back to my room.” you turn around to finally face him. his eyes soften as he sees your puffy eyes from last night.
“no, please stay. i-i don’t mind how long,” he says, his voice with desperation, reaching to grab your hand to reassure you.
“i’m not sure ayana would appreciate me staying in the room she shares with her partner,” you say, hinting at her words from last night. gojo seems taken aback by your words and lets go of your hand, his expression faltering.
“so you think she’d appreciate us kissing?” he retorts, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.
“i- no. but she is someone you will potentially wed. out of respect for the future princess, we must stop.” with that, gojo’s entire aura shifts. his eyes darken with anger at the mention of marriage. without waiting for his response, you exit the balcony and head towards the front door.
“i explained everything to your parents,” he blurts out, desperation seeping into his tone.
“thank you,” you say softly, a mix of gratitude and sorrow in your voice, as you leave his room.
���. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
as you make yourself look more presentable than you did in gojo’s room, you’re too scared to face your family. you don’t know what gojo said to them, but you assume it’s good.
“hi, dear, we have an important meeting you must attend,” you hear your mother's soft voice from your doorway.
“mother, if this is about last night, i will explain—”
“it is not. satoru enlightened us all, it was just a mere childhood feeling,” she reassures as she walks closer to you. “I deeply regret not hearing your side, but the past is behind us. We must discuss more relevant matters. join me in the drawing room when you're ready.”
tears almost fill your eyes as relief washes over you. finally, your family is hearing you out. you nod as she embraces you with a warm hug before exiting the room, giving you more time to prepare yourself.
⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
as you make your way toward the drawing room, your nerves intensify. your mother hadn’t given you any details about the meeting, and the presence of more guards than usual, dressed in different-colored uniforms, only heightens your anxiety.
standing close to the drawing room doors, the guards open them to reveal a room filled with your parents, gojo’s parents, and a few unfamiliar faces you noticed at the balcony. the mothers and other women sit on the couches, while the men stand on the other side, deep in discussion.
abruptly, your mother and the queen stand up, acknowledging your presence. “perfect! dear, we have someone who would like to meet you!” your mother says, her voice brimming with excitement. your nerves spike as an unfamiliar woman calls over someone to meet you.
too nervous to turn around, you hear footsteps approaching behind you.
“hello, my beautiful,” a voice says, making time feel as if it has stopped. you turn around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back blonde hair and a single curled strand. his hazel eyes gaze down at you, and you are in complete shock, struggling to respond.
“i- hi,” you manage to say, shamelessly checking him out. he chuckles at your response.
“i’m kento nanami. i’ve heard a lot about you,” he says smoothly. you’re starstruck by his beauty, still struggling to find words. your mother stands beside you, her hands on your shoulders, urging you to act proper.
“he is also a prince—soon to be king,” your mother whispers in your ear, but nanami definitely hears.
“i hope you don’t see me merely as a king. i’m here to leave the weight of royalty and simply be myself,” he says, as your mother apologizes for her rudeness. if anything, his humility makes you more attracted to him.
“well, we shall leave you two alone to get to know each other on a deeper level,” the queen says, and everyone quickly exits. your mother gives you one last look before leaving, reminding you to be on your best behaviour. for what, though?
“ugh, finally the parents have left. i was getting bored of hearing about royal duties and nonsense,” nanami says, exhaling a long-held breath as you both settle on the couches. his boldness stuns you. he doesn’t want to be bombarded with royal duties... hot.
“i wouldn’t know much about royal duties the way you do, kento. i bet our fathers chatted you into boredom,” you say, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.
“my father? no, that was my mother’s brother. my father passed years ago from an illness.”
great. he hates me.
“oh my—I-I’m so sorry, your majesty. i truly didn’t know,” you quickly say, but he gives you a warm smile, reassuring you that you simply didn’t know.
“i would also hope that you would address me without honorifics. i’d hope for my soon-to-be wife to call me by my first name.”
what?
“sorry what? wife? no offense, but i don’t know you or anything about any marriage!” you say, heart racing, realizing you were kept out of the loop.
“your parents haven’t told you? they’ve been stressing my family for years that you were waiting to meet me,” he says, very confused. you shift your position on the couch, fully facing him.
“i’ve had a few conversations about marriage but nothing about us... i-i mean i’m definitely not ready,” you say, starting to freak out. he notices and holds your hand, his much larger and radiating warmth.
“i may not understand being left out of important conversations—especially regarding your future,” he says, drawing circles on your hand. “if you are not ready to marry, i will use my royal duties and call it off.” his warm smile makes your heart feel whole. maybe he’s the one for you; he’s patient, kind, and handsome.
“kento I—”
“i will not let you marry her!” you hear as the doors burst open.
this cannot be happening.
you and nanami quickly stand up, startled by gojo’s sudden interruption.
“satoru, you cannot be—”
“get your guards and get the hell out of my estate. you are not welcome here—nor are you welcome to marry her!” gojo yells, angrily walking towards you both. nanami looks at you, just as confused as you are by gojo’s crazed state.
“excuse us, kento. i need to have a talk with him,” you say sternly, grabbing gojo’s arm and leading him out of the drawing room.
⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
after what felt like an eternity dragging gojo to the library, he stubbornly refused to move. finally, you arrive and shut the door behind you, locking it firmly to ensure privacy.
“what the hell is wrong with you? you can’t act like a child and barge in like that!” you say angrily, turning to face him.
“what is wrong with me? how dare you marry someone you don’t even know!” his glare intensifies, his bright blue eyes darkening with rage. “whoever i choose to wed is not your decision—nor shall it be your problem!” you retort, matching his tone.
“it is my problem—especially if you’re making reckless decisions without my presence,” he yells, causing you to scrunch your face in utter confusion. “you’re seriously unbelievable! i can’t believe it,” you say, slowly putting pieces together.
“why are you so against me being married? it shouldn’t matter to—“
“i cannot bear to lose the one person i’m deathly in love with to another man!”
what?
you look at him, wishing he had never said those words. if anything, you wished for him to torment you than confess his love for you.
“that is not fair—it is not fair and you know that,” you say, walking away from him breathing heavily as you go deeper into the library, with him following you.
“i am madly in love with you—since our childhood—“
“satoru, stop. you do not love me. you’ve been making my life a living hell. my stay here—is beyond hell,” you say as you turn and look at him with teary eyes. “the one time i have a chance at life with a loving man and you—you try to ruin it,” you say.
“would he ever love you the depths that i love you?” he questions, and you're taken aback from his words. “love? do you consider ruining my life, my reputation, humiliating me as ‘love’?”
“that was the only way i could block you out of my head—my feelings, my thoughts. i hated the fact your own parents planned to wed you off during our teenage years! i love you so much i pushed you away!” gojo confesses as you watch him pour out his deep feelings.
“so you simply ignored my feelings all those years? all the torment i endured? you only cared about yourself?”
“do you love me?” he says, ignoring what you said. you stammer at your words as he continues to repeat his words, walking closer to you as you slowly walk backwards.
“you were my first love,” you quietly say as you shake your head, your mind all jumbled up. he smiles at your words that he’s been dying to hear. “but you have proved to me over and over that i am not yours. you cannot say you love someone then treat them like shit!” you say as his smile slowly fades.
“i will marry kento and that is the end,” you say. he looks at you angrily.
“is that really what you want? to be with someone who won’t drive you wild like i do? to live a dull life, lacking the connection we have?” he steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“you know, i could show you just how much i love you. how every night, it’s your face i see, your name i whisper. just one touch, one kiss, and you’d remember why you were mine first.”
you feel your breath hitch as he leans in, his lips almost dangerously close to yours. “i bet he would never know how to make you tremble with a single look, how to make you ache with a single touch.”
before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a desperate and passionate hunger. his hands find your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens, his mouth relentless and demanding.
lust once again takes over your body, igniting a fire as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss more. moans escape into each other’s mouths as you both lose yourselves in the moment. his tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part willingly, tasting the sweetness of desire.
as you two are mindlessly kissing, you stumble backward, gojo’s strong arms steadying you both until you collapse onto a nearby couch. your gown drapes around you, the fabric crumpling as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. his hands remain on your waist, gripping possessively, refusing to release you from his embrace.
heat radiates between you, his body pressed against yours, a desperate ache building in the pit of your stomach. the intensity of the moment fuels your movements, his hands are guiding you as you’re shamelessly grinding on his bulge. feeling him throb beneath you.
moans and gasps escape into each other’s mouths, the air thick with tension and desire. your bodies move together instinctively, as if trying to merge into one.
you break the kiss, your lips parting from his with a soft, lingering resistance. his darkened eyes plead for more, hunger burning in their depths as he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a silent plea. but you resist, causing him to whine and pout at your refusal. what a baby.
“i-i will marry kento,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with the intensity of your emotions. it’s a final decision made in the heat of the moment.
gojo leans his head back with a frustrated groan from hearing another man’s name. he releases his hold on your waist as you rise from his lap, smoothing out your gown to look more presentable. his whine of protest goes unheard as you walk away, the sound of your heels against the wooden floor echoing as you walk away.
the tension hangs heavy in the library as you leave him behind—your heart racing, your mind reeling, and the taste of him lingering on your lips.
⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
you walk through the grand halls, your footsteps echoing softly as you make your way to the garden, seeking a moment to clear your mind from what happened in the library.
as you step into the garden, you notice two figures standing near a fountain. it’s ayana and nanami. ayana is giggling, her hand rubbing against nanami’s arm as she leans in closer to him. she looks up at him with adoring eyes, her laughter bright and flirtatious.
you stop in your tracks, feeling a jealous at the sight. she always finds a way to ruin something.
nanami notices you walking in and turns to gesture you to join them. ayana looks over to see you and scoffs, wrapping her arm possessively around nanami’s as you approach.
“i see you’ve already met ayana,” you say bitterly, shooting a disdainful glance at her.
“met? oh, kenny! you haven’t told her about us!” ayana fake pouts, her tone dripping with insincerity. you look at them in confusion. “who do you think was his stress reliever, hmm?” she confesses, and a pang of jealousy courses through you.
“i’ve told you many times that whatever happened in the past stays in the past, ayana,” nanami says firmly, removing her arms from around him and creating space between them.
“but of course, that was before i met ruru! we’re now happily in love—expecting to be engaged soon,” ayana chirps cheerfully, her words stoking your anger. little does she know what happened a few minutes ago…
“but poor you, would any man truly desire a future with you?” she taunts, walking closer to you, her hand brushing your cheek. you shove her hand away, infuriated by her audacity.
“i intended to announce our engagement at the gala, but we are also planning our marriage,” nanami declares calmly, causing ayana to whirl around in horror. for once, she is speechless, no vile words escaping her lips.
nothing.
“so instead of belittling my wife and your future queen, i’d advise you to show her the respect she deserves,” nanami says in a low, threatening voice. you’re shocked at his words, feeling his soft touch as he takes your hand to lead you out of the garden. not waiting for one of her snarky response.
turning back, you see tears filling ayana’s eyes as she remains frozen in place. seeing her like this brings a small, satisfied smile to your face. but as nanami guides you back into the castle, you notice gojo rushing out of the library towards ayana, her sobs echoing loudly.
you watch as gojo softly comforts her, his actions mirroring those he once showed you. you start to feel enraged at the sight, but your view is cut off as nanami turns a corner, and they disappear from sight.
why am I feeling this way?
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojou satoru x reader#gojo angst#gojo satoru#jjk smut#jjk fanfic#gojo smut#jujustu kaisen
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Just Friends: How It Began
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Bucky Barnes
masterlist
Summary: You make a new friend.
It's giving
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
There’s more people than you expect. The book club is more of a book crowd. Not exactly what was advertised online. Instead of a circle of only about ten people, there are tables set around the room to seat as man. Each.
“Find your name tag,” the woman at the table near the entrance explains, “and your table. Everyone has a number.”
You thank her and find your name tag, sticking it onto your cardigan, right below your collar. You clutch your copy of The Good Earth. It’s well worn. A used copy you found on a thrift shop shelf. You search the room, lost as you take in the other listless faces.
You check the list of names and find your table number. This isn’t what you were hoping for. You want to make friends. Everyone here is older than you. Noticeably so. And there’s so many. It’s going to be so loud, you won’t be able to focus. You doubt you’ll make any sort of real connection.
You think of leaving but you’ve come this far. Besides, there’s a spot waiting for you. You find your seat at Table 12 and swing your feet nervously. You tap your fingers on the cover of your book and smile as a pair of white-haired ladies sit down across from you. They don’t acknowledge you as they chatter. You sit back, disappointed.
Other tables are a little livelier. Several attendees sit at the next table and garble loudly on. It seems like they’re already talking about Pearl S. Buck’s narrative from what you can make out. An older man sits down and you try to think of how to greet him. Oh, no, he seems to know those ladies. All three of them block you out as they ignore your tiny wave.
“Twelve,” the deep voice gristles over you. The chair next to you scrapes out. An even more worn novel lands on the table next to yours. The man sits. “This everyone?”
He looks around and you do too.
“There’s a few more seats,” you say as trace your finger over the spine of the book. You turn to him and pause. He’s familiar. Do you know him? “Um, hi...” You introduce yourself, trying not to cringe.
He’s younger than the others but still older than you. The silver strands threaded into his dark hair and patched along the edge of his jaw suggest at least a full decade, likely more. You offer your hand stiffly, not sure why you do. You’re not one for shaking hands. He accepts the gesture and your lashes flick in surprise. His fingers are... metal?
“Bucky Barnes?” You blurt out as he squeezes your hand firmly.
He drops his chin as if he was hoping to stay covert, “uh, yeah. You beat me to it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you retract your hand and slap your cheek, “I didn’t mean to. I only... I thought you looked... familiar and then I worried I forgot you from somewhere. But you’re too old to have been in my classes. But I mean... not too old. We had lots of mature students. Mature... just students. Age isn’t... well...”
He chuckles, “don’t worry about it. More than a century in, I can handle being called old.”
“I wasn’t-- I didn’t mean... that,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry.”
“Really, it’s fine. It’s... cute,” he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. Another duo sits down and make no effort to engage beyond their pairing. He sighs and looks around. “Not very social for a social club.”
“Mm, no, but maybe once we get started...” you shrug.
“Maybe,” he sits back and drops his hands onto his lap. “You... don’t have somewhere less... geriatric to be?”
“Oh, um, well, you know, I have some friends but they only want to go drinking and I get all bubbly in my stummy—stomach, when I drink. So, yeah. I thought maybe I could meet a few tamer friends here.”
“Huh, well, I assure you, the old ones really aren’t that much different,” he scoffs. “And I get it. Alcohol doesn’t do much for me. Don't like the taste either. It’s all people ever wanna do. Always ‘let’s go for drinks’.”
You nod.
“Besides,” he continues, “don’t feel like hanging out with a bunch of dudes who can only talk about fighting the next bad guy. I need a friend who isn’t enhanced or magical.”
“Right, that sounds...”
“I know. I'm a grumpy old man complaining about saving the world,” he snorts. “Sorry, I just—I'm like you. Wanna expand outside my circle.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” you agree. “Looks like you’ve read that a few times.”
You point to his copy and he peers down. His blue eyes find you again, “first edition. Read it before I shipped off. My sister Rebecca still had it when she passed... she left it behind. It was just sitting in a storage unit.”
“Oh wow, I... yeah, er--”
“See, the whole friends thing... tough when there’s only one other guy in the city the same age as you,” he says.
“It’s nice of her to hold onto it for you,” you finally get your thoughts in line.
“Yeah, she was nice,” he agrees. “My best friend, but don’t tell Steve I said so.”
A man sits on your other side and jars you from the plucking of heart strings. He’s balding and thin. “Hi,” you turn to him and give your name, “nice to meet you.”
He glances at you, “Didn’t know this was open to kids.”
“Kids?” You echo. You’re well into adulthood. Almost twenty-five.
“Lay off, she’s being friendly,” Bucky leans over. “It’s a club. We’re supposed to talk about the book.”
“Yeah, I'm sure she has great insight into the battle between wealth and tradition.”
Your eyes round. You crane to see around you. You really are the youngest person in the room. You should have known.
“I’d love to learn,” you say and the man harrumphs.
Bucky growls, “you sure act like a jackass for putting on airs. She’s being polite.”
The man sneers, “some idea for a date, boy.”
“I’m not--” Bucky puts his metal hand on the table, between your books, balling it to a fist as the man gapes.
“I--” the man begins.
“Save it,” Bucky says. “Think you may have missed a few themes... you know, about women and oppression.” He drags his hand from the table. “Hey,” he nudges you softly. You almost can’t believe he can be so gentle with the metal limb, “how about we get outta here? They’re showing It Happened One Night just a few blocks down at the old cinema.”
“Yes! I know. It’s one of my favourites. I was going to go but everyone said it was boring and I didn’t wanna go alone.” You chirp, shying away from your own rambling.
“Same. So, how about it. Wanna make me look normal?”
You laugh, “sure. I love popcorn.”
“Alright, I might save you a few milk duds,” he stands and you do the same.
You think you’ve made a friend after all.
#bucky barnes#just friends#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#series#drabble#mcu#marvel#avengers#winter soldier#captain america
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.. 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 ( 박.𝐒𝐇 )
( 六月 ). ──you and sunghoon were too much alike in a lot of aspects, especially stubbornness 박성훈 &fem!rea. ⟡ one shot, suggestive warn. language, argument wc : 616HUN 노트 n/a
"Sunghoon," Your thumb and index finger pressed to the bridge of your nose in an attempt to ease the tension coursing through you. "You're not listening right now."
Truthfully, neither one of you wanted to hear the other out—and that's resulted in an argument. One that seems like it won't fizzle out no matter how much the two of you raise your voice.
You both had too much pride to give the other the last word. You were too much alike; your friends and family only confirming your hard-headedness. But, you had to admit that he was pretty when he was mad.
"No, y/n," He laughed, humor twisted with frustration and disbelief, "You're not listening. I have to do this, it's not something I can just skip—believe me!"
You rolled your prettily-done eyes, which only furthered his annoyance, slumping into the wooden chair you paired with your pine table. "I don't care that you made other plans—we decided months ago. We have to go, Sunghoon, we've already canceled...twice!"
"And now I'm saying that I can't go. You can go by yourself, can't you? It's not a big deal, is it?"
Your mouth practically hit the floor at his audacity, "It is a big-fucking-deal, babe! I need you there, you know this!"
And despite being mad at each other, the love was still there. He drove you up a wall, but at the end of the day, there's no one else you'd rather have push your buttons. Yes, it was a hostile environment right now, but it was bound to break…it always does.
"Well, i can't go."
Your head met your hand, elbow pressed to the table. "Fuck," You were going around in circles, neither one willing to compromise. "Sunghoon, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't care? You promised the last time we canceled that that would be the last time. So, you just lied to me?"
It seems like fuel to the fire was the only thing you both could throw at it, poisonous words with a twisted tongue. "Oh my god, are you kidding me? You're really going to fucking hold that to me, baby?"
Your eyes widened, hand hitting the wood with a smack. "Well, when I promise you shit, I actually mean it. So, yeah, I’m going to hold it over your fucking head."
"We're getting nowhere." He stated the obvious, making you huff, "Let's talk later."
He wasn't asking, but you honestly didn't have a care in the world for it. To you that was just as good as a suggestion. You got up, approaching him with a calm demeanor. You didn't want to back down, but you knew you'd be here for a lifetime if you didn't let the dust settle—even if only a little bit.
As you were passing, you mumbled out a defeated, "Fine, Hoon. Do whatever you want."
You felt a firm grip on your wrist, him pulling so you'd face him again. And before you got the chance to angrily-question his intentions, his lips were pressed to yours, a firm, yet gentle, hold on your cheek.
You both felt the wire snap, your bodies relaxing into each other.
Between alternating sides, he whispered a confession of love to you; reminding you that despite the attitude, he was made for you.
You pulled back momentarily, still prideful enough to not let him have the last word, "I'm still mad at you."
"You know i'll make it up to you, baby," He smiled, hoisting you onto the wooden surface carefully, and slotting between your parted knees. "I promise."
But he was just like you, wasn't he?
reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!
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#(˚ ༘ 🦕𖦹) soph’s fics ᡣ𐭩#kpop#kpop writing#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#kpopidol#romance#enhypen scenarios#enhypen#enha angst#enha#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha imagines#sunghoon#kpop requests#enha sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#park sunghoon#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon fluff#park sunghoon x you#park sunghoon angst#park sunghoon imagines#engene#enhypen suggestive
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Did you lose her? (Lando Norris)
Maybe it was never a change of heart
Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty with a happy ending, and it's also the first piece that's I've written that's based of a song, Stick Season by Noah Kahan. I hope I did it well enough! 🫶 also, it has smut, and if you have followed me for long enough, you know I don't usually do it, but I think it's these AUS pics 😮💨😌🥵
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
my masterlist
Cw: curse words, previous break-up and themes related to that, smut (mentions protected sex, hormonal contraception, praise kink if you squint at the whole thing)
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog
And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed
Doing the food shop was one one of the mundane adult life tasks you actually enjoyed doing. You had some music on your ears and walked along the supermarket, making sure you weren't buying too much outside of your list.
Tomato sauce and two packets of the instant noodles for when you didn't feel like cooking or were in a rush, you told yourself as you browsed through the aisle.
The scent should've been the first give away, but lots of people wore the same perfume. However, not all of them had the characteristic underlying scent that to this day meant comfort.
"Y/N! I wasn't expecting to see you", Cisca said as he placed the item she took from the shelf on her shopping cart, "goodness, how long has it been since we've seen you?", she smiled sadly.
Five months, you thought. One hundred and fifty two days since you and Lando parted ways and you shipped your belongings back to England. You told yourselves it was amicable and that you'd still be there for eachother, but you had published your first article and he had started his season without the other by your side.
"It's been some time, yes. How are you?", you wondered, "we've been good, you know how busy it gets around this time of year. But Savannah had their little girl, Athena - let me show you a picture!", she scrambled her phone out of her bag.
"Oh, how cute!", you cooed at the little baby bundled up in a pink blanket, "Mila is such a good big sister, too!", she showed you a picture with the two of them in Lando's lap, the baby tucked safely into his chest as Mila seemed to be showing him one of her toys.
Gulping and swallowing the tears that threatened to fall, you looked up at her and smiled, "I'm glad everyone is doing good - send Oliver and Sav my congratulations!", you nodded, hoping she would get the hint.
Storing her phone back in her bag, Cisca smiled, resembling the smile that you woke up many times to, "I will, darling. All the best for you, hopefully we'll see you around", she said before rubbing your back soothingly.
You found an aisle without people and allowed yourself to cry. Just for a little bit before you had to go back to pretend it didn't hurt still.
And I'll dream each night of some version of you
That I might not have, but I did not lose
"I'm on the podium, dad!", Lando yelled as he hugged Adam, cackling in excitement as he hugged the team who were there to celebrate and congratulate him.
"Congratulations, baby!", you yelled as Lando turned to hug you, arms going around your waist and pulling you as close as the safety barriers allowed, clicking open his visor so you could look at your favourite eyes in the world.
"I love you so much, Y/N!", he yelled back, winking before he went up to get weighed in.
On the podium, he looked at you like you two were the only people there, smiling up at him as he blew you a kiss.
"I knew you'd be on the podium, baby", you smiled once you were back in his driver's room, "How are you so sure?", he wondered, kissing your neck soflty.
"The development they're doing, your talent, Lando, I knew it was going to happen, and from now on, you better get used to being up there every single weekend", you smirked, kissing from his throat to his jaw and up to his lips, humming when his tongue poked at your lips begging for entrance.
It was hot and he was sweaty. His phone read 4:30am as he stood up against the headboard, finding the light switch so he wouldn't walk around the hotel room in complete darkness.
It was the third night in a row you showed up in his dreams. The first time, it was subtle as he dreamed about flying on plane and he was sure you were there. The past two, however, had you in there as a main character. He dreamed of walking in the paddock with you, of having you there to comfort him and knock some sense in his head when his P4 in qualifying didn't feel enough, and now you were celebrating his podium.
It's weird how his brain went there, how his arms and face felt like they had truly been holding you despite not having done it in months. Muscle memory betrayed, he thought as he poured himself some water and took little sips of it as he looked outside the window.
Fuck, he missed you. And not just for these big moments where he was on a high and wanted to share it with you or when he was do low you were the only person that could make him crawl out of the dark hole he snuck himself into. It's when he's making his bed back home and the other pillow remains fluffed because no one's using it, it's the mug you left behind and he doesn't have the courage to send back to you or give to someone else or when he sees something that reminds him of you and he gets it, hoping one day he can get them to you.
You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back
Lando sighed again as the call went to voicemail. It was the third time it happened in the last couple of hours. It was media day at Suzuka and they were having lunch.
"You know it's 3 am back in England, right?", Oscar asked bluntly, "when we were having breakfast, sure, you might have got hold of her if she was doing a late night, but I think you should wait", he reasoned.
Oscar was right. He didn't want to risk it waking you up even though he was sure your phone was on silent since you loved your sleep dearly.
"I hate this", Lando muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Oscar was aware of some of what had happened between Lando and you. The start of the season always came with new gossip and this one's was filled with rumours and conspiracy theories about the paddock's sweetheart and young couple.
Lando started driving in Formula One when he was nineteen, so they had seen his grow up through the years along with your relationship. At first, you were pinned down as his sister, then a best friend when they realised you didn't share genetics, and then you were his girlfriend. The lingering touches and big smiles they caught never rushed you to admit your feelings or put a label on your relationship, but everyone was there when you walked hand in hand on the paddock and confirmed the suspicions they had for months. Lando Norris and his best friend were in love and they all felt like proud parents as they watched you support him unconditionally every time you could.
"Did you lose her?", Oscar quesioned his team-mate as he picked on the food on his plate.
"I don't have her with me, have I?", Lando snapped and regretted it almost immediately.
Oscar put it down to tiredness, jet lag and the fact that he seemed a bit lost on how he was navigating the situation, "What I'm saying is, did you lose her? Did you do your absolute best to keep her with you?", he said sternly, "Used all of the options and possibilities and it still didn't work out? You don't lose someone because things fell apart in a stressful situation", he reasoned.
He was young but not dumb, truly.
"Feels like I have though", Lando added.
"What I'm saying is if you really want to know how she is and if you want to have an honest conversation with her, you have to make an effort. Not just calling and asking your mother to see if she's spotted her lately, or your sisters to check in your circle of friends whether or not she has moved on", Oscar lectured.
"Do you think I can do it? Do I have what it takes?", Lando confessed his doubts out loud. One of the reasons he had yet to act on it was because having a second chance wasn't for everyone and he needed to make sure it went perfect. You deserved that.
"You're a Formula One driver with deep pockets and a massive heart that still belongs to someone. What can't you do?", the young australian driver mused before he got up, taking his plate with him and leaving Lando pondering about what to do next.
I hope this pain's just passin' through
You sang loudly as you dusted the living room shelves, windows open to let the autumn air in. While cleaning wasn't your favourite thing to do, you had woken up with an urge to clean and given that it happened very rarely, you were taking it in stride.
So far, you found a receipt of a pair of jeans you were meant to return but gave your friends instead, a concert ticket and a bigger amount of dust than you'd like to admit. When you pulled the fabric strap, though, you knew that you wouldn't want to get rid of it. The lanyard belonged to one of the passes for one of the Grand Prix weekend you went to see Lando. Inspecting it closer, you realised it was his second home race, the Polaroid picture attached to it confirming the date.
It started with you joking about the fact that the pass was not the prettiest, so Lando hunted down the paddock to find a Polaroid camera, snapping a picture of you two and pinching a hole on it so you could carry it around and cover the supposed ugly pass. The photo was still intact, just a little dusty as you wiped it with your sleeve. Lando was kissing your cheek as you smiled impossibly big, eyes squinty and smile beaming because of the guy whose lips were on your cheek.
A single teardrop fell on the plastic covered paper before a few more followed as you sat down, looking at what you had once been and how things were right now. The missed calls on your phone led you to believe that maybe he still felt something too, but the potential heartache of trying again and it not working would hurt more than it already does.
The vibration from watch caught your attention as you read the two notifications. One from your e-mail with Qatar Airways written in bold and a text from Lando.
Qatar Airways
Thank you for choosing to fly with Qatar Airways!
Lando ✨️
I need you here with me, Y/N, please
I made the flight reservation for you, they will hold the ticket until two hours before the flight leaves, you just have to confirm with your passport ❤️
You promised me that I was more than all the miles combined
Heathrow Airport, 7th October 2023, 6:30 am.
You couldn't back out now, that would mean Lando would lose the money he spent to get you here in the first place. It wasn't by all means quiet, but your thoughts were loud enough.
You shouldn't be here. Why were you here? Why did you accept this, Y/N?
Because Lando needed you there.
Simple as that.
Boarding the flight, you smiled and thanked as the flight attendant pointed to the area where your seat was and where you would spend the next six hours and a half.
"I'm sorry, our seats are by the window", a woman in her thirties said as she bounced a little girl on her hip, making you get up so she could get to it, "thank you", she smiled, sitting down and buclking herself and her daughter to her body.
"Lyla, you can't go pulling on other people's clothes - I'm so sorry", she apoligised as the little girl pulled on your shirt's detailed button buckle.
"No worries, I know how restless they can get. You do the best for your baby. You're only responsible for yours and her emotions, no one else's on this plane", you offered her, remembering the times you would take flights and fully grown adults would go up to a stressed parent to let them know they could hear their crying child as if the parents themselves didn't know.
"My husband is somewhere in there, too", she chuckled, sometimes I feel I'm responsible for his too - accountantable in a way at least", she chuckled.
"You weren't able to sit together?", you wondered.
"My husband planned the weekend to go watch a race and come back, but we found some holiday days and we decided on a spontaneous trip. This was the only seat left they had", she explained.
"I can change seats if you want", you offered, "I'm flying on my own and I'll get to the destination all the same", you giggled.
"You wouldn't mind?", she asked, relief settling over her as she tried to see her husband, waving at him to come closer as you touched the button to call the flight attendant as the passengers were all sat down on your section.
"This lovely young woman says she doesn't mind switching seats with you", she said to her husband as you spoke to the flight attendant.
"No, there's no problem with that if you both agree", the flight attendant smiled as you got up, ignoring the frown on the man next to you who had to get up so you could swap, "bye bye, Lyla!", you waved at the little girl before her parents thanked you once again.
Finding your new seat, you put your bag under the seat in front and sat down, excusing yourself to the older couple next to you, "I just swapped seats with the gentleman that was here, I'm sorry", you smiled, hoping they wouldn't be too mad.
"Oh, he was able to sit with his family after all - I told you, Harold!", the lady winked at her husband, "I'm Francesca, you can call me Fran", she said sweetly.
Despite the early flight, they both seemed to be full of energy as they started telling you stories of their life and family, showing pictures of their kids and grandkids.
"One day you'll have all of that with the person you love, darling - if that's something you want, of course!", Harold peeped in, "our granddaughters are always telling me not everyone wants the same things!", he chuckled softly.
"It's okay - I would like that, actually", you smiled sadly as Francesca landed her hand on top of yours.
"Why does that sound like a confused heart, dear?", she commented, reading you like a book. The flight was closer to be three quarters of the way to the destination, so you still had some time to kill.
"A little bit; I'm actually flying over to see the person who still has this confused heart", you mumbled.
"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, dear - something tells me he's going to 'unconfuse' your heart", she smiled, "tell me about him".
"Godness", you chuckled, "He's kind, respectful, honest, goofy, cute, charming, loving, he's all that is good. We just lost our way, I think", you recalled, smiling at the thought of him.
"You'll find it back, dear. Life has mysterious ways but it has the right ways - I like to believe it does, anyway", the older lady assured, squeezing your hand in hers.
Waving goodbye to Harold and Francesca when you found the taxi bay, you requested to be taken to the paddock.
When you got there, you payed the kind driver before he helped you take your suitcase from the boot, "enjoy the race!", he smiled.
You were thankful all eyes were on the track already, making you cross the whole paddock and step into McLaren's hospitality quickly after collecting your pass.
"Y/N!", Zak said as he was the first person to spot you, "you're here, you came!", he smiled, hugging you tightly, "we're all very happy you're here", he said as he asked one of the team members to store your suitcases somewhere appropriate before leading you to the corridor to the drivers' rooms.
"Lando is inside, and the race starts in less than ninety minutes, so you won't talk all you need to, but it's a good start", he said, knocking on the door before he left.
When Lando heard the knock, he hoped it was you. Sophie and Oscar were great people, but in the last hour, everytime he opened the door, theirs were the faces he saw instead of yours.
"Y/N", he welcomed you into his room before closing the door, "I hope it's okay that I flew you here, thank you for coming", he said as he hesitated on giving you a hug.
Taking a step forward, you laced your arms around his waist as he did the same around your shoulders, inhaling eachother's scent and feeling like a weight was lifted off both of you, "I missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered before you pulled apart.
"It's not the first time you've done that for me", you fumbled with your hands, "although I was very surprised. We haven't spoken to eachother in some time, Lando", you sterned.
"Not because I didn't try", he bit bat with an ironic chuckle, "Why did you come here then?", he defended, taking your words as immediate offense and not taking a second to process them properly.
"Because even though we're not together anymore, you matter to me. I care about you! I'm not sure what monster you depict me as or that you imagine I've turned into, but I wouldn't dream of wishing you misery! If you call me and tell me you need me here, I'll be here because I care about you!", you snapped, "you have no idea how many times I wanted to give up and cancel this! Why am I here, Lando?", you asked.
You didn't expect him to react that way, not that you had a much better reaction anyway.
"Fuck, this is not how we do this", you took a deep breath as Lando held your hands in his, mimicking your movements as he did the same. Three long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that", Lando began, hands laced on yours still, "thank you for bring here, I needed you here because there's no one else in the world that can make me feel comfortable like you do, and I need that. I need to feel like myself - and I know it's a selfish ask to make you get up and drop your things to be here with me but-", you interrupted him.
"It's okay, Lando, you're okay", you cooed, searching for his eyes and hoping you'd get the message your mouth was failing to say through.
You pulled him to sit in front of you in the massage table, "I've been seeing all the podiums you've been getting - the team have done such a great job developing, and your talent and skills have brought it to the podium", you tried a lighter subject even though you were 99% sure of his worries.
"Oscar still qualified above me", he began, "He's a rookie and he's managed to do in months what I haven't done in five years", he allowed himself to express his feelings. After all, it was you.
"Oscar is not driving a tractor like you were", you shrugged your shoulders as Lando laughed.
"For someone who was invited last minute and got a pretty good pass, I'm not sure how the team would feel about you talking like that", he smirked, hand finding your own as he rubbed his thumb on your palm.
"I'm only telling the truth", you smiled, "and I mean it. I know how this sport works, but you shouldn't compare yourself to your teammate when the circumstances are so different", you mused.
"The team have been great and they still haven't said anything", he reasoned.
"Of course they haven't because it's something that happens, Lando. I was watching the highlights and so many drivers went over the limits because that's how this track goes", you stated, "there's only so much you can do and you shouldn't put all that pressure on yourself", you tsked, "I know you do, but you shouldn't", you smiled.
"You always know what to say, don't you?", he chuckled, "I have an inkling on how this here works", you winked and tapped his head with your free hand.
A knock on the door interrupted your moment as Jon opened it right after, "Lando, we need to start prepping for the sprint", he said before he turned to you, "Hi Y/N, good to have you back!", he smiled before he let you finish what you were doing.
"I should go, then", Lando trailed off, "are you going to browse around the paddock? I bet a lot of people miss you and your face here", he nudged.
"I came here for you, I don't care about anyone else", you smiled as you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek for a few seconds, smiling against his warm skin before grabbing your bag and walking out.
Most of the team must've known you were coming since not many of them took a second look whenever you greeted them or entered a different area.
One of the media girls got you a set of headphones as she stood next to you, Oscar and Lando getting ready to go to the track.
His routine hadn't changed as your eyes followed him while he got dressed appropriately and safely for the race.
Before Lando put his helmet on he looked back at you, winking and smiling when you winked back.
When the gap wasn't closing in, you knew Lando would be disappointed with P3, not because of the place itself but because his team-mate had done better.
As you moved to a better spot to watch the interviews on the media pen, your heart felt like someone was using it like a trampoline, jumping and stomping on it as Lando spoke about himself with such a negative tone.
Surely, the interviewers were fishing for answers with biased questions and his mind took him there.
As you waited for him to be back to the hospitality, you got yourself something to eat, realising you hadn't done it since the plane.
Lando was beating himself up and he couldn't shake the bad mood he was in even when he thought you had travelled to see him and be there for him.
As Sophie gave him a quick debrief about his interviews, he stepped into his driver's room so he could have a quick shower and then head to the team debrief.
"It wouldn't hurt going up to her, you know?", Jon told him, ready to take any harsh words first if it meant you didn't hear them.
"I know it wouldn't, I'm just going to eat something and then I'll join the debrief with the rest of the team", Lando mumbled as he walked up to you.
"Hey", he said sitting down on the sofa next to you.
"Hey, Lando", you said, testing the waters and approaching his body until you rested your head on his shoulder.
"You are going to get your win, Lando. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it's going to be your first. Surely important, but you'll be a race winner and go on to the next race", you said as he seemed to be unsure of the tone you were going for, "as that will be a big moment in a long career - because it won't define it - this doesn't define you either, as a person and as a driver", you concluded, hoping to bring a little bit of his confidence and self-esteem back up a little.
"And you're going to be there?", he asked. He was feeling like shit and needed to know. It wasn't fair, but he needed to know.
"I can't make promises like that, not before we speak properly", you remarked, looking up at him from where you were, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours, "do you want me to stay here or should I go back to the hotel?", you asked. It wasn't the right time or the right place to talk about it.
"Could you stay here, please?", he said as you took your book out of your bag, knowing it would run long and you'd need some entertainment as there was only so much catching up you could do with the team when they're suppose to be working.
"I will, then", you said as Lando took the plunge and kissed the top of your head.
Ten chapters and a tea later, Lando tapped your shoulders, "I'm finished, are we ready to go?", he asked as you got up accepting his hand to hold as you walked out of the hospitality, grabbing your suitcase from the storage room and bidding goodbye to the team.
"I couldn't get a separate room for you, but the room I'm staying in has this living room area and the sofa opens into a bed, they said it's really comfy and they also left an extra mattress topper and some blankets", Lando said as he drove, "in case you didn't feel comfortable, I- I just want you to feel comfortable", he emphasised nervously.
"Lando, you don't need to walk on eggshells, okay? It's me", you smiled reassuringly as he stole a quick look at you before focusing back on the road, "sounds like a nice solution, fine by me", you reassured him.
Leaving the car to the valet and taking the lift up with you, you stayed silent until you were inside the hotel room, "That's the bedroom area, bathroom's here - and it has a double sink - and then the living room", Lando patted the extra linen folded on the sofa.
"Thank you", you assented, "would you like to talk now or is it bad timing? You must be tired f,-".
"Yes, please", he agreed immediately sitting on the sofa and making room for you to sit in front of him.
"I don't know where to begin", you observed after a while, "it's been tough being without you - I have been so used to having you there for me and to be there for you that nothing quite has the same meaning. I can live without you - barely, but I can -, that's not the question, but I don't want to", you manifested.
"We ended things because we had to, and it did us both well to see from another perspective - that's what it felt for me anyway -, but I want to be with you and to have you with me", he elaborated, "I don't care if you have to spend more time back home because of the distance, or come with me to the races because of the distance, too, I-".
"It was never about the distance, Lando", you interjected. You both used that excuse way too many times but deep down you knew it wasn't because of it.
"We'll work it out then", Lando suggested, "we'll work on us because knowing eachother doesn't mean we don't have to put ourselves first and keep investing on our relationship. I value you so much Y/N, I love you so much and I want to do this right", he whispered as if he spoke any louder would disturb the moment.
"I love you too", you smiled as you laced your hands together, "we'll work on it, together".
It was already late so Lando offered you the bathroom so you could shower and do your night routine first and then make the sofa bed to your liking while he did his night routine.
"Good night, angel", Lando said after you hugged him goodnight, kissing the top of your head before letting you lie down first since the light on his bedside table was the only one illuminating the room.
After you cocooned yourself in the sheets comfortably, you spoke up, "Lando, I'm sorry I didn't answer back sooner", you apoligised.
"It's okay, love, you don't have to worry about that", he cooed softly and you could hear the smile on his voice.
"I know it's not, but thank you for making me feel better about it, goodnight", you smiled, feeling hopeful about it.
The next morning, you were woken up by the noise coming from the bathroom, assuming Lando was showering inside as you stretched, surprised at how well you slept. Maybe the bedding was genuinely nice, the sofa bed wasn't bad to begin with, especially considering the hotel you were staying in, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep knowing the person who your heart belonged to was more than happy to let you keep his, too, and he was in the same space as you.
"Good morning, beautiful", Lando smiled as he noticed you were awake already, "did you sleep well?".
"Good morning, Lan", you yawned, "I did, really well, actually. At what time do we have to be at the track?", you wondered. It was a night race, so the call up was later than usual.
"I'm leaving after breakfast, but you can stay and head there later if you want", Lando declared as you walked up to him, "I just need to freshen up and get ready", you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading for the bathroom with your clothes.
As soon as you arrived at the track, you took one of the back entrances as you knew Lando would spend some time with the fans and other drivers he bumped into, finding a nice spot on the lounge and going back to your book.
"I'm going to start race prep", Lando stopped by you in the lounge after a quick meeting, "I probably won't talk to you much until afterwards so I just came to check on you", he reasoned.
Getting up, you moved to one of the corridors, leaning up to kiss his forehead softly, "Good luck, my love, you're going to do so well, I know it", you smiled against his skin.
"I have my lucky charm with me", he smirked, kissing the top of your head before he got back to Jon.
From P10 to P3, Lando had an eventful race. Fortunately, and compared to the rest of the grid, he seemed to be doing fairly well as he stood in front of AC Units while replenishing the water he lost during the fifty-seven laps.
"I'm so proud of you!", you cooed as he got back to the garage, shaking hands with all the mechanics and engineers before he got to you. You hugged his sweaty body, not caring about it as long as you felt his close to you.
"They're postponing race debrief so I'm going to shower quickly and then we can get going, beautiful", he smiled, kissing a spot on your cheek very close to your lips.
Smiling giddily, you went to the bar area to get a bottle of water for yourself as Sophie walked last you, "seems like we will be seeing a lot more of you again soon - maybe Zak can also hire you as our lucky charm!", she winked as you shook your head, blood rushing to your cheeks at her words.
Back in the hotel room, it was your turn to freshen up and get ready to sleep. The spirits were high and you were feeling like the wait time was over. Your heart was healed enough as you sat on Lando's bed, "I'm so proud of you, you had an incredible drive tonight", you smiled as you moved closer to him as he sat on the edge, back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress while the other hung beside the mattress.
"It felt so good", he smiled, "thank you for supporting me", he cupped your cheek as he silently asked you for permission to kiss your lips. Lando couldn't waste anymore time as he pulled you to him so he could kiss you properly, your legs on either side of his as you straddled him, revelling in the feeling of being in eachother's hold as your hands played with his hair while his held your waist.
"As much as I'd love to continue this, I'm exhausted, baby", he rubbed your thighs, "it's okay, my love, I wasn't thinking of letting you do anything else anyway", you smiled, kissing his nose softly before you got on one knee so you could flop to the side and land on the mattress.
"Sleep here, yes?", he mused and you nodded, undoing the bed and getting under the sheets, his arm holding you to him and making sure he didn't let go.
As if you'd leave anyway.
4.30am and Lando woke up again. This time however, the sight he longed to see was right there. The you he had and had got back, cuddled up to his chest as your leg was hoisted up on top of his own and very close to his aching cock.
As he tried to change the angle so every time you moved, your smooth skin wouldn't pratically tease him, you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening as he tried to adjust your knee.
"Is everything alright, baby? Am I hurting you?", you said as you recoiled from his body.
"No, angel, no!", he quickly guaranteed, "I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just that your knee was very close to me and I was having a hard time dealing with it".
"A hard time indeed", you snickered as you felt his hard-on strained on his Calvin Kleins. Dating after being friends for so long brought an easy joking side to your relationship so much easier and funnier as you wouldn't get offended with most of what you said to eachother, "need help with that?", you smirked.
"But I wanted to treat you", Lando pouted, "Can I, gorgeous girl?", he whispered as he kissed up your neck once you whispered "yes", hands roaming on your body as he pulled up your nightshirt, finding your nipples and twisting them slightly to work your body up the way you did with his.
Your sighs and whimpers let him know he was doing a good job as undressed your torso, littering small kissed from your throat to your tummy, "you're so gorgeous, Y/N, I can't believe you're mine", he said as he blew a raspberry on your tummy, earning giggles from you before he licked up a stripe near your panties line.
"You know how much I like it when you wear your pink panties", he voiced as he touched you over the cotton fabric, feeling you pulsate already, "Do you like it when I tease you over your pink panties, baby?".
"Yes", you scrambled out betwen moans and deep breaths, "Oh my Goodness, princess", he cooed as you squirmed, "You want me to fill this pussy up?", he wondered as you let out a yes followed but a deep mewling sound.
"Let me take a little peek, then", as his fingers pushed the fabric down, a string of wetness caught in the material as he smiled, "Oh my Goodness, look at this pretty little pink pussy", he kisses your clit, "all of you, you're se beautiful, baby".
Rubbing the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, pressing the soft skin as he got rid of your underwear, "Are you going to let me fill you up?", he asked as he wouldn't do it without consent.
"Yes, please do it, Lan", you moaned, hand looking for his own to hold.
"You don't need to say please, my love - here", he whispered as he laced your hands together, "you'll always have me, you hear me? I'm yours, sweet girl", he smiled.
His hand that wasn't securely laced in yours helped you take his underwear off before he came back up to kiss your lips softly.
"Does it feel good when I tease your clit like that, gorgeous?", he smirked as he ran the tip of his cock in your sensitive bud, "Yes - uhg, baby", you gasped, looking into his eyes and swearing you could get lost in them had you not been in such a state of arousal as you were.
"You look so pretty like this, my beautiful, sweet girl", he praised as he saw your twitches and heard your moans at his words, "we need protection, though", he stated.
"I'm good, didn't see anyone else - you?", you wondered as he shook his head, "didn't see anyone else either - condom?", he asked, making you nod and separate so he could get it from his toiletries bag. Hormonal contraception left you feeling worse that it made your life easier, so you and Lando always used condoms.
Rolling it down his shaft, Lando climbed back in the bed and kissed your lips, adjusting himself before he entered you.
You whimpered as Lando slid inside you, a low groan escaping from his throat as he gently slid, taking your hand back in his and resting them next to your head on the pillow.
"You feel so good for me, sweet girl, so wet so warm, so good - aah", he breathed out, "so tight, my sweet sweet girl", he squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your walls squeezing him.
You stretched your arm out enough to pull his face closer to yours, kissing his jaw and then his lips before whispering "you can move, love".
Lando pulled back slowly, thrusting in gently to begin with and savouring how you felt around him.
"I love you", you muttered into his neck between moans as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you faster, harder and deeper.
"I'm close", Lando groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, his hand crawling between your bodies and drawing lazy circles on your clit to get you to your release.
"Me too, feels so good, I feel so good", you moaned out, a high pitch one particularly when you felt the band was about to snap.
“My sweet girl, my beautiful sweet girl, are you going to come for me?”, Lando worked you up as your body started to show signs of it, "let go, my love, I'm here, I've got you”, he soothed, still gently rubbing your clit with one hand and keeping hold of the other.
Your back arched, sensitive nipples rubbing against his skin, as you came with a high-pitched whine, nuzzling your face on his thick neck as you came undone around him. Lando came soon after, his hand that was not holding yours groping your waist as he groaned.
“Good, sweet girl, that was good, you did so well for me. I’ve got you, it's okay", he assured as he felt you flutter around him, probably from overstimulation considering neither of you had been with anyone else and you hadn't slept a full night yet, the tiredness he felt also a cause for how quickly he finished.
Lando kissed your forehead sweetly before he pulled out, getting up and throwing out the condom on the bathroom bin before he cane back to you on the bed.
"Let's put this on, yeah?", he whispered soflty as he helped you put on his linen shirt, buttoning it enough to let you breathe but still feel hugged by the fabric, and then a clean pair of underwear he got from your suitcase.
Before he laid in bed with you again, he put on his own underwear, pulling you to his arms and then pulling the crisp white covers over you.
"Do you feel good, baby?", he asked once you were cuddled up to him, "yes, I do", you smiled, a mixture of post sex glow and being back in his arms.
"Thank you for not giving up on us, I love you, sweet girl", Lando said as he played with your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss every single one of them, "you're the best thing in my life", he mumbled, letting you drift off to sleep.
#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 fanfic
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₊˚⊹。here, just for you | bakugo katsuki
wc: 1.0k summary: you give bakugo flowers, and he can’t figure out why. contains: implied f!reader but i don’t mention anything specific, talks about flowers and a kind of early established relationship, just fluff and bakugo getting flustered while going through the motions of a relationship! a/n: this is aged up to when bakugo is a pro! i envision him maturing a lot and mellowing out a little so hopefully this captures that!
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
Bakugo doesn’t know what to expect, stepping into his office after a long day on patrol—actually, scratch that. Bakugo doesn’t expect anything, really, besides his office to look the exact same way he left it this morning: pristine and orderly.
And it is, for the most part—save for a small bouquet of flowers sitting delicately on his desk.
It isn’t uncommon for him to receive some; companies and politicians often send them to express their good graces. But those usually go through PR first, along with the many other trinkets and letters received from fans.
So, it shouldn’t really be a big deal, except, flowers have never appeared in his office, on his desk, with a note written in your handwriting, until now.
Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he remembers holidays, birthdays, and since being with you—potential anniversaries too. But there’s nothing, complete zilch that comes up when he tries to recall what today could be.
He furrows his brows, looking for your contact on his phone. Most of his hero costume is gone now, all of the chunky pieces stored away to reveal the plain black jumpsuit he wears underneath. Clunky boots replaced by rubber shoes he wears more and more these days.
He reaches for the bouquet while his phone rings, fingers sliding through the leaves softly. It’s a simple arrangement: a few gerberas and tulips standing out in pink and orange against small bunches of baby’s breath and cocculus. There’s a homeyness to it he can only attribute to you.
“Katsuki?” you pick up, warmth and affection coming through.
“Y’got me flowers?” he asks gruffly, thumbing the note you’d written.
There’s nothing on it but ‘For Katsuki’ in your cursive. No indication of what it’s for, or why you’d given it in the first place. He’s confused and maybe a little nervous; did he forget a date or something?
“Oh, yeah!” you exclaim, a string of ‘pings’ sounding your request at a video call.
Lately, calls with you end up this way. For the longest time, Bakugo’s been a text-mostly-and-call-but-no-video-only kind of guy; it’s quick and efficient, gets things done with minimal fuss. But since getting together with you, texting’s begun to feel a little bit insufficient without your voice accompanying it. Regular calls suffice, but you know how harsh his words can sound despite his face saying otherwise.
Your relationship is kind of old but still kind of new—a few months before you celebrate one year, and he still rolls his eyes (at himself) whenever you do this, lips quirked up as he clicks ‘accept’ (as if he can’t believe how you’ve single-handedly changed his phone habits just like that).
You wait for him to adjust his phone, portions of his office in blur before he props it against the All Might paperweight on his desk. You continue, “Do you like it?”
He shoves the bouquet into the frame, smothering the microphone until all you hear is muffled noise.
“Sorry, baby, I think you’re covering the mic.”
He tuts and you laugh as his face comes into view a few seconds later. His eyebrows are bunched together in the way they characteristically are and you see remnants of his black eyeliner smudged across his eyelids. Even at the tail end of his day, tired and just a little bit grumpy, Bakugo still looks pretty illuminated by the light on his phone.
It’s unfair, you think.
“S’nice.” he murmurs, fiddling with the petals, “Thank you.”
You catch his gaze and smile, “You’re welcome.”
There’s an uneasiness to Bakugo’s eyes that you can tell comes from uncertainty, and you give him the silence to sort through it before he lets you know eventually, just like he always does.
“I–”, he looks to the side, away from the camera. The crease between his eyebrows grow deeper before clearing his throat, “–M’not forgetting anythin’ today, am I?”
You tilt your head, puzzled, “I don’t think so, unless I’m forgetting it too.”
“So why’d–”, he looks back to the bouquet, sighing, “–why’dya give me flowers?”
Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he knows your favorite food, and your usual order from that café you both go to down the street. He remembers that one sunday, during a hike, when you told him in passing that it was the best day of your life. You don’t like fuzzy socks because they make you sneeze, and you’re allergic to dust but continue to tend to him even when he’s covered entirely in it.
Bakugo knows all these things and makes it a point to because a relationship–this relationship with you–is new and kind of hard, and this is one way he knows he can be good to you.
“Oh,” you blink, before answering so casually, so honestly, “I just wanted to.”
Ruby eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher swirling in them. His fingers slip through the leaves of the bouquet once more before his gaze softens.
“Ha.” he huffs out, almost chuckling to himself in relief.
“Yeah, ‘ha’,” you tease, laughing, “they’re just for being you, Katsuki.”
The look you send him is fond, but the feeling it gives him is anything but. Every time you laugh, and smile, and speak to him as if he is every bit deserving of the love you give, there is a battle raging in his ribcage. He doesn’t know when it’s ever going to stop feeling that way–if it ever will. The sides of his neck begin to flush red, and you giggle, finding it every bit endearing.
He clears his throat again, trying hard to hide how flustered he feels, “D’you make it?”
You nod, “Been trying flower arranging lately.”
“S’pretty.” he supplies, turning the bouquet around to show you. You grow shy, Bakugo knowing full well how terrible you are at taking compliments.
“You should get going, it’s getting late.” you mumble, snuggling into your blanket, the one he’d left in your apartment months ago.
Bakugo grunts in agreement, “Tomorrow, 7am?”
You hum, “Message me when you get home,” reminding him, even though this is routine by now.
The next day, just like every other Tuesday, Bakugo will pick you up at 7am for a trip to that café you go to down the street. And maybe, on another day, you’ll get him flowers again, just for being your Katsuki.
#bakugo x reader#bnha x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#mha x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha#katsu#soft#shotorus.writes#writing this as an exercise !!
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teaser: relief switch | jaeyun | m
release date: TBD pairing: switch sim jaeyun x switch female reader genre: smut au: established relationship rating: explicit/18+, minors dni estimated word count: 7k+ // current word count: 4.2k sexual warnings: oral (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, head pusher jake, unprotective sex, non penetrative and penetrative sex, whiny jake, begging, swearing, slight size kink???, thigh riding, hair pulling, lots of praise (praise kink???), spanking, naked dry humping???, pet names (useful girl, sweet boy, good boy/girl,sweetheart, babe, baby etc), marking, edging, overstimulation, forced orgasm, more tbd ♡ a/n: a special thank you to my best friend @sungbeams for all the encouragement and reading over this even with it being unfinished. this one is dedicated to you ♡
“How would you like me to take it out on you?” you question with a lowered voice, tilting your head down slightly to flick your eyes more up at him, batting your eye lashes in a way you know he can’t resist.
His thumb stops moving just below your bottom lip where his eyes also rest. “Well, depends on the type of day you had. Do you need to let out your anger? Pretend I’m your boss and raise your voice, say some absurd things? Or do you need to feel useful?” The more he talks, the lower his tone and volume go, his voice growing softer while his speech slows. To make it worse, at the end of his sentence he releases your lips from his gaze, his deep brown eyes flicking up ever so slightly to meet your own. And you instantly become putty in his hands.
“Useful,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the side to avoid the smirk you know is displayed on his handsome face.
“Oh, I can put you to use, love. Knees. Now.” Jake commands with a snap of his finger before pointing it down at the ground and using his other hand to give your bottom lip a quick swipe with his thumb.
“Right here? What about the bedro-“
“I thought,” he cuts you off, removing his hand from your face to slowly start undoing his belt, “you wanted,” the belt’s on the floor, his hands now unbuttoning his slacks, “to be,” his eyes are locked on yours, “useful,” he growls.
Placing a hand on the back of your head, he leans you forward, giving you a swift tender kiss on the forehead before pushing your head down.
You fall to your knees quickly, your hands sliding down his torso until they rest at his hips where his slacks are barely hanging on by his growing bulge which you’re now eye level with.
Between clenched teeth and a sharp inhale of his breath, Jake commands, “Don’t make me have to ask you twice.”
Your hands move without any further hesitation to push his slacks and underwear down from his hips, his hardened member bouncing at the release of the constraints. How is he already this hard? Jake’s weeping cock is already fully stiff and alert, begging for contact.
Looking straight up at your man, wanting to hold his gaze, you stick your tongue out and give him a long lick from the base of his member to just below the bulbous part of his tip. Jake’s head falls back against the door, his eyes fluttering to the back of his head as one of his hands reaches for your hair. He strokes it gently at first before giving a warning tug.
“Please,” he whines softly with an airy gasp, eyes still closed, “not today. Don’t tease me today, Y/n.”
a/n: ♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist all rights reserved jayparked 09/20/24 do not copy, repost, or translate want to be added to my tag list? click here
#svnet#jake teaser#jake smut#enhypen jake smut#jake x reader#jake x you#jake x y/n#jaeyun smut#sim jaeyun smut#jaeyun x you#jake hard thoughts#jake hard hours
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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)
Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.
Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so
WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox
A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.
“Hello?”
It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.
“-visit?”
“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.
“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”
“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”
“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”
She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.
“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”
“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back.
“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.
Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.
One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.
You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted.
Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.
You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.
--
“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.
“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”
He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.
“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.
“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.
“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.
“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”
“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”
He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.
“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”
He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”
“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”
“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”
“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”
“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”
--
When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.
You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.
He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.
Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.
You hope more than anything that promise stays true.
You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.
You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.
You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.
“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night.
“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.
He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.
You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.
“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.
“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.
“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.
“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.
If you’re able to.
Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.
“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.
Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.
“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.
“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”
“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’
Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.
“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.
“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”
“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”
“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”
“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.
“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”
“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”
“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”
“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”
“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”
“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.
“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.
His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.
“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.
“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.
“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.
“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”
“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”
“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”
His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”
“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”
“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”
You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.
“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”
“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”
“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you.
“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”
“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”
“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.
“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.
“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”
“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.
“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”
“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”
“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.
You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.
Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.
“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.
“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”
“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”
“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”
“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.
“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”
She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin.
He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.
“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.
“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.
“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”
“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”
“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.
“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin’ you, Brad.”
“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”
“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”
“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.
You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.
“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”
“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”
He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.
“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”
“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”
“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”
The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.
“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.
“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”
True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes.
“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”
While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.
“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”
“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.
“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.
The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.
“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”
“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.
“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”
“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.
“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”
“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”
“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.
You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.
“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”
“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”
“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”
“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.
His gifts!
You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.
“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”
“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”
“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.
“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.
“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”
“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”
“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.
“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”
“No.”
“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”
You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.
“What is it, baby doll?”
“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”
“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”
“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.
“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”
“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”
“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”
“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”
“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”
‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”
“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”
“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”
“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”
“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”
You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”
He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”
That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”
He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.
While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger.
“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”
He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”
“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.
“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.
“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”
“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.
“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.
“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.
“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”
You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.
“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.
His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.
“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach.
You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you.
At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair.
“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”
You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it.
Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.
“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.
You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there.
Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.
“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other.
“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”
“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”
His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.
“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.
“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.”
He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.
“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”
You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.
“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”
“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.
“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”
“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”
“It’s-”
“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley.
He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.
“Yes?”
“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”
From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.
He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.
The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.
“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”
“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.
“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”
“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”
“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair.
He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”
“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”
“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”
You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”
“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.
“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.
“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.
“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.
“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.
“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”
”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.
He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.
“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”
“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.
“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.
“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”
“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”
“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side.
She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”
She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”
“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”
“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”
“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”
“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”
“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”
She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”
“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”
“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”
“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”
“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”
“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”
She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.
“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”
“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.
You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.
“Hello?”
“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”
It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”
“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”
“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”
He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”
“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”
He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”
You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.
“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.
“When are you guys coming back?”
“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”
“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”
“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.
“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”
He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”
“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”
“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”
“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.
Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.
You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.
Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.
“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”
“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”
“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”
“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.
Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.
When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.
“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”
“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”
“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”
“What if he doesn’t want me back?”
For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you.
She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”
“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”
“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm.
“What?”
“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”
Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.
“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”
“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.
The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.
When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.
“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around.
“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”
“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.
“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”
You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.
You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.
“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.
A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.
You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.
The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.
You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you.
You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.
That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo.
The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.
You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.
Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.
- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?
That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.
- What’s she doing?
Can’t tell you ;)
- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(
Tell him I said to leave you alone!
- He says you’re not the boss of him.
Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.
- He says she’s not the boss of him.
Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.
- My dad’s eating one too :(
Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤
- I love you best. ❤
I love you too baby ❤
The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.
By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.
“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”
You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”
She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”
“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”
“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”
“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”
“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”
You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”
“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”
“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”
True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.
However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.
You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.
“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears.
He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”
You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.
“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”
“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”
“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.
His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”
You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”
“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”
“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”
“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”
You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.
He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”
“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.
Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”
“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”
“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”
You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.
You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”
“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”
Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.
“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”
“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”
“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”
Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”
“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”
“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”
He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.
“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.
“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”
You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.
“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”
“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life.
There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Burger?”
He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”
He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.
“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.
“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”
“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”
“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.
Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”
“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”
He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”
“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”
“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”
“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”
You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.
“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”
“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.
Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’
Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.
- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.
I know. I’ll tell him.
- ❤️
“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”
You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.
All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.
“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”
You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”
“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”
True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.
“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”
“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.
Or until you know the truth.
“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”
“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.
“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”
“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”
“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”
“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”
“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”
“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”
“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.
“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”
“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”
“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.
“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”
“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”
You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.
Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.
Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.
He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.
“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”
There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”
“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”
“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”
“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”
“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”
“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”
“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”
“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”
“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”
He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”
“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.
“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”
“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”
You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.
When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.
“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.
“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”
“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”
You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.
“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”
“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”
He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”
Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips.
His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.
“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”
“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.
Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.
“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”
“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.
“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.
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